The Raging Hounds VII: Disciplinary Action
#7 of The Raging Hounds
The universe this story takes place at, the characters and all that are copyright to Rhazagal and are not to be used without explicit permission. This story contains homosexual themes, so if that isn't your thing you are obviously in the wrong place. to those who enjoy reading about the Hounds... Have fun reading!
Vincent chuckled, a small, confident grin on his muzzle as he sat, firmly cuffed, in the small, slightly dank and poorly lit interrogation room of the local law enforcement force's base. The building itself, Vincent had seen as he had been taken out of the van prior to being summarily stuck into the interrogation room, was nothing but a big, ugly concrete cube with window slits and the occasional larger, bared window.
Vincent had no idea how long he had been kept in the room, but it surely had to be several hours by now, because he had been questioned more times than he could keep count of. The interrogator, Balthazar Voldok, was every bit as morbid in appearance as befitted a man of his position. The brown cat's scalp was a criss-crossing map of scars, leaving nasty hairless trails, much like his face in which the left eye was milky-white with a ragged, torn scar crossing over it.
The cat, too, was grinning, adjusting his leather gloves in his paws before clasping them behind his back. Dress pants, shining black shoes and a great coat all contradicted starkly with his otherwise so mangled looks; a thing which must have been carefully thought out in order to cause confusion in the ones being interrogated.
Balthazar rubbed his knuckles gingerly, his grin widening a bit as Vincent spat a goblet of bloody saliva onto the floor where it joined a dozen or so similar splatters.
"My, my, my... Still trying to get me to speak by roughing me up? I was expecting something else, hot brands at the least, but police brutality? I'm disappointed, Balthie." Vincent said defiantly, his grin turning lopsided and gleeful despite his whole face aching.
Vincent's witty retort was greeted with a backhanded slap across the cheek, Balthazar's grin flickering just a little between the hyena's words and the blow that followed soon after.
"I know for sure it was your own unit whom you helped to escape, gutterfilth. Confess and you'll get away much easier!" Balthazar preached on, ramming his palms onto the surface of the table after circling around behind it.
"You knowing it won't be enough... Since you only managed to catch me, you need solid evidence to bust whoever I was working with. Well... I'm not going to squeal, no matter how hard you knock me around. It might've been just a random bunch of marines that I was working with instead of my own unit, after all." Vincent said calmly.
"Oh we shall see... I've got more than enough time to break you and make you talk. I can keep you incarcerated for a week, plenty of time to crack you open like a peanut."
"I'd give you a rude hand gesture, but what with my paws sorta tied..." Vincent retorted with a grin, earning himself another slap across the face. He knew full well -or more likely hoped from the rock bottom of his soul- that the Colonel wouldn't leave him behind. Nobody gets left behind, the pack protects its own. The third rule of the Hounds was Vincent's best bet at getting out.
As the rest of the Hounds landed into one of GFS Triumphant's hangars, the Colonel was already waiting for the boys to come out, looking outwardly calm save for a very fine frown, visible only to those who had known the Colonel for a while. For a change he didn't have his great coat on, wearing this time only the olive-green officer's uniform.
In a steady little stream the Hounds flowed out of The Saint's Rapier and, upon seeing the Colonel standing there with paws on his hips, formed up into two lines.
As the last Hound was out of the gunship and on the grating of the hangar, the Colonel made a quick head-count and found out one was missing. Another sweep over the troops confirmed it to be Raikov.
"I heard you lot decided to incite a riot... for a change. I also can't help but notice that Raikov is missing. Anyone care to explain where our licensed pyromaniac is?"
Hall stepped forward from the line, the black wolf standing in stiff attention, not meeting the piercing brown eyes of the Colonel "Sir. Long story made short, Raikov decided to guard our rear as we made our way out of the nightclub in which the incident occurred. He... He wasn't quick enough and the law enforcers caught him. There was nothing we could do, Sir."
Schaefer fixed Hall with an outright glare, those chilling eyes of his boring through the black wolf like a hot knife through butter, searching to see if what the wolf had just said was true. As Hall didn't flinch too badly under his sheer presence, the Colonel nodded curtly.
"I see. Once more our fresh corporal is proving his loyalty to the pack. I'm short on men as it is, and thus I need to go and get Raikov out. I'd also like to point out, that I was having a pleasant evening which, thanks to you, ended far sooner than I would've preferred." Schaefer said, turning then around and marching away.
Schaefer had barely gotten out of the hangar as he ran into, of all the people on board the ship, Ghost, the rodent's armored tail swishing lazily from side to side. Schaefer couldn't help but wonder if the Shade operative ever took his armor off.
"Trouble, Colonel?" Ghost asked in what Schaefer thought to be a conversational tone.
"Nothing serious. Sufficient to say, I'll be personally going planetside first thing tomorrow to retrieve something that belongs to me."
"I see. Federation prevails, Colonel."
"Federation prevails, Ghost." And with that the discussion came to an end, Ghost marching in one direction and Schaefer into the other. He knew he'd have to deal with big and important people tomorrow, which in turn meant he'd have to wear his finest... Truly, another bother he wasn't too happy to have. It was times like this that made Schaefer feel older than he really was. It wasn't helping at all that he could pull practically no strings on this planet to help him smooth out the fuzz caused by the Hounds easily. No... This had to be done the old fashioned way around.
Dan was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. On the table next to him was the injector filled with the dose of medicine he'd need to knock himself out. The sound of the door sliding open caught Dan's attention, his nostrils flaring lightly as he took a small inhale to determine who it was. Musk, cologne, light traces of tobacco smoke and alcohol... It was impossible to tell who it was by scent as the original smell of the fur was hidden behind so many different scents.
Turning his head Dan saw it was Jim, the Dalmatian looking more than a little under the weather in the darkness of the sergeant's room, illuminated only by the light spilling in from the doorway.
"Hey, Jim. You got back early."
After a moment's silence Jim finally spoke, sounding thoroughly miserable "They got Vincent... The cops. We had to leg it and he... He decided to come last, ensuring the rest of us made it safely. That's when they... When they caught him."
Dan closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. That hyena... He had no luck at all, it seemed. Cracking his eyes open once more he looked at Jim, the Dalmatian shifting his weight uneasily from foot to foot, looking as if he was trying to either say or ask something. It wasn't hard for Dan to deduce what was going on in Jim's mind; the dog could sometimes be read like a open book.
"Want to crash in here for the night?" Dan finally asked shuffling slightly to the side to make room for Jim as the Dalmatian gave a nod and shuffled out of his clothes, looking a little cheered up.
After Jim had slipped into the bed and under the sheets, an arm sung across Dan's chest, Dan squeezed the considerably smaller dog against himself in a reassuring way "The Colonel will bail Vincent out somehow, you'll see."
"Yeah... You're right. The Colonel will save Vincent's arse. Even HE owes Vincent one because of what he did during our last mission." Jim spoke softly, slowly drifting to sleep, embraced by both the calming thought as well as Dan's massive bulk.
In silence Dan listened to the Dalmatian's quiet, steady breathing as Jim gradually fell asleep. Dan curled his free paw into a fist and stared at the knuckles of it, seeing the fresh scabs on them. He had managed to get some hairline fractures onto the bones in his paw after his encounter with Jericho when he had slammed his fist into the wall and dented it.
He had gotten angry because of the way Jericho treated Vincent, but why had it happened? Did he really care that much about the hyena? Letting out a deep sigh Dan picked up the injector from the table and shot the dose into his arm, hastily placing the injector back onto the table as he felt the familiar numbness spreading throughout his body as the concoction started to take effect, knocking him out soonafter despite his enhanced physique.
The following day saw Colonel Schaefer boarding The Saint's Rapier in the early hours of Alacast Prime's time, the gunship's thrusters burning like bright small stars as it headed towards the planet once again. The Colonel had decided it best to go alone, the risk of the other Hounds raising hell once more too great to take.
Schaefer had made it directly into the local law enforcement division's headquarters in which Vincent was held, though instead of going to meet the hyena the German Shepherd had opted to start right from the top.
Seated on a luxurious leather recliner, Schaefer rested casually against the tall back rest of the chair, the tips of his fingers pressed together as he looked intently at the toned, relatively young major sitting on the other side of the desk, the lion looking more than a little uncomfortable under the Colonel's stare.
"I will make the assumption, that you haven't cleaned your ears properly, major, and as such I'll say it again: I need you to release Corporal Vincent Raikov. I am short on men constantly and the loss of just one of them, especially since he's a specialist in heavy weapons, hurts quite a bit." The Colonel spoke calmly, watching the major shifting in his chair uneasily.
"I assure you, Colonel Schaefer, that I heard you the first time around and my answer still stands. I will not be releasing your corporal. His crimes, inciting a riot, resisting arrest and a full score of assaults, are so severe, that the jurisdiction of them has been taken away from me and instead given to the commander of the planetary defense force, Marshal Reinez." The lion replied, trying to remain as calm as possible, though Schaefer could see the flame of the lion's resolve being nothing more than a guttering candle, kept alive only by the protection granted by the matter being taken out of his paws.
"Fine... I shall be paying Marshal Reinez a visit then. Are you going to give me directions, major, or do I just have to go a-hunting for him?"
"Her... Marshal Reinez is a her, Colonel, and I can give you directions. She can be found from the planetary defense force's headquarters, a garrison about two clicks North from this city. I...I can notify her of your arrival so the guards know to let you in."
"That would be muchly appreciated. Thank you for your time, major. I shall not stall you from you duties any longer." Schaefer spoke calmly, standing then up and the major did the same. The two of them exchanged a brief handshake before Schaefer swept out of the room.
As the door closed behind Schaefer, the major slumped back onto his seat. The Colonel had to be the most disturbing and unnerving person he had ever seen...
The journey through the city and into the garrison's gates was as uneventful as can be imagined on a peaceful planet located far away from any battle zones, Schaefer's eyes staring fixedly into oblivion through the side window of the six-wheeled car the major had given for his use for as long as he was planetside.
The major had been true to his words as Schaefer's car cleared the guards stationed on the gate of the fence surrounding the garrison as well as those standing by the gate of the tall and thick concrete wall that surrounded the entire garrison.
"So the place is built along the standard-issue template. In that case the offices of the officers should be somewhere around the back wall, safe from most artillery." The Colonel thought to himself as they drove along the maze of roads, passing drilling grounds and barracks aplenty.
Within the office building, Schaefer was guided by a second-lieutenant orderly, a young fox who looked every bit as if he had a metal pole stuck up his ass all the way up to the neck. Schaefer knew the kid had never seen live combat and, if his position on Alacast wouldn't be compromised by some misdeed, he probably never would.
The young lieutenant led Schaefer up two flights of stairs and down several different corridors before stopping in front of a luxurious pair of hardwood doors. The orderly knocked twice and then opened the doors, revealing the office beyond which, just like the doors, looked luxurious, almost to the point of decadence. With a brisk salute the orderly ushered Schaefer in and closed the doors behind the dog.
Schaefer ignored the decorations of the square room, paying no real heed to the lush wine-red carpet covering the entire floor either, focusing instead on the copperhead snake seated behind a massive wooden desk. Clad into the usual olive-green outfit of an officer and looking rather stern, Marshal Reinez regarded Schaefer keenly. The Colonel couldn't avoid noticing the obvious bulge on the front of the Marshal's chest, but years of long, hard training, mental discipline and the general preference (though not exclusively so) towards the male gender allowed Schaefer to not stare, rather meeting the stare of the Marshal.
Slowly Reinez extended one of her hands and indicated towards a similar recliner in which Schaefer had sat whilst meeting the major not long ago. Apparently those chairs were a standard in officers' offices on Alacast.
After Schaefer had seated himself comfortably, a brief silence fell as Reinez checked something from the screen of her computer.
"So..." She began and Schaefer could detect the hint of the hissing common to snakes whenever they used the letter S in their speech "I've been told you are here on a matter concerning one of your men... Corporal Raikov, correct?"
Schaefer gave a curt nod, his face a mask of impassiveness "That is correct."
"I am certain, that you are aware of what corporal Raikov is accused for, Colonel?"
"Inciting a riot, resisting arrest and a full score of assaults." Schaefer repeated the litany given by the major.
"It would also appear, that you have requested this marine to be released on the basis of you having a shortage of men." Reinez leaned in closer to Schaefer, her eyes flashing dangerously despite a shadow of a sweet smile curling onto her face "Why should I? Or should I say... How could I? The crimes of corporal Raikov are so severe, that at minimum he should be sent to forced labor for a decade, if not outright hanged!"
"You do have a point, Marshal, and you can believe I'm not too happy about one of my men causing such trouble. However... I need Raikov to be released, because I refuse to leave a single man behind and because his special skills are necessary to the continued efficiency of the company."
Under the Colonel's withering gaze, even the stern Marshal felt herself starting to reel slightly. Shea leaned back and raised her hands slightly into the air, smiling that shadow of a sweet smile still "I can't just let him walk out of this one. For the sake of morale and general discipline I cannot let him slip out of this without consequences. He MUST be punished for his misdeeds lest he inspires others to cause such trouble."
Schaefer went silent for a while, contemplating Reinez's words. She had a valid point, no doubts about that, but still Schaefer couldn't help but feel that Raikov had been already through quite a lot. Still, at the same time, Schaefer felt that Raikov DID need to be punished if for no other reason than for being reckless enough to be caught. In just a few heartbeats Schaefer made the decision "I suggest a standard disciplinary action be taken after which Raikov's misdeeds are to be, as per regulations, considered settled."
Reinez's smile turned into a vicious one and she nodded in approval "I agree, but I insist it be a hardened version considering the magnitude of his crime. Punishment will be taking place at midday tomorrow at the courtyard of the law enforcement headquarters."
Schaefer just nodded, saluting and getting out of the room. Raikov was, by now hopefully, hardened enough to bear the disciplinary action.
Once he was back on board the Triumphant, Schaefer issued a rallying call for all Hounds, waiting in the shuttle bay as the Hounds all came running, falling into two parade ground-perfect rows in front of Schaefer to hear the news.
"Raikov will be released tomorrow." Schaefer began, silencing the rising choir of whistling and cheering as the Hounds couldn't stay themselves any longer by raising a paw in front of him "However, he will have to go through a hardened standard disciplinary action, taking place at midday tomorrow. All those who want to go and watch, maybe helping him by giving moral support, shall be boarding the Rapier with me tomorrow." Schaefer held a brief pause, allowing finally a small smile to curl into the corner of his muzzle "We'll be going to get him out of there, boys. Nobody gets left behind, the Pack protects its own."
With those words said the Colonel swept away, leaving his men to cheer and whistle as they pleased.
"What do you mean 'The files have been either deleted or completely corrupted'? It's one in a billion that a malfunction like that occurs! This is sabotage, I tell you!" Vincent could hear Balthazar shouting into the comms-device, his whole body trembling and Vincent could tell the cat's face was turned into a vicious snarl despite him having turned his back to make the call.
Balthazar had tried to figure out which ships had arrived and departed from the docks around the time the Hounds had escaped in order to gain some evidence, but apparently his last straw was snatched away from him due to, apparently, a malfunctioning computer system.
"What do you mean there are no signs of sabotage, either? Just how incompetent a moron you are anyways? Well fix it, you useless moron and stop giving me excuses or I'll have you sent to a penal legion to clear some mines!" The cat screamed into the device, pressing then a button in the machine that looked very much like the cell phones of the 21st century.
As if that wasn't enough to make the cat angry, the recent news of Vincent getting out tomorrow sure as hell were throwing ol' Balthie way off the cliff. Still, Balthazar had seemed more than pleased enough to hear Vincent would, at least, be getting a hardened whipping before being set free. It wasn't much, but it was something...
"Well...I may not have too much time left with you, corporal, but I guarantee I'll make the best of it." Balthazar said, looking thoroughly malicious "So I'd very much like to know a few more things, the topmost of which is... Who was that mercenary in the nightclub? We had a few reports about a mouse in white denim adorned with a red sash. As far as I know, none of the mercenaries working on Alacast were anywhere near the nightclub during the time of the incident."
Vincent shrugged, having honestly no idea about the identity or the agenda of the mysterious mercenary "I don't know. He just appeared out of nowhere and started bating people up left and right. I can't answer any whos, whys or whats you might ask about him."
"You lie once more... gutterfilth!" Balthazar shouted, this time around swinging a punch across Vincent's cheek and knocking out a tooth, causing Vincent to spit a little more blood onto the floor.
Vincent's face twisted into a grin despite his face aching allover "Nice punch...But how will you explain the multitude of bruises I have? Someone's bound to ask questions about my good looks, you know..."
Balthazar's wicked smile was enough to slightly derail Vincent "You seem to be forgetting we busted your sorry ass after a big fight. Combine that with the 'resisting arrest' part of your charges and nobody is asking a shit about why you're a little roughed up. Don't worry, though, because we will be patching you up enough to make you look presentable in your big show tomorrow."
"I bet you'll enjoy watching someone lashing my hide raw..." Vincent said darkly, spitting a glob of blood onto Balthazar's shoe.
The cat rammed his fist into the corner of Vincent's eye and he could feel it starting to swell shut after a moment.
"I won't just be watching... I'll be the one to carry out your sentence personally. You see...I've had quite a bit of experience in this kind of operation."
Vincent grinned yet again "Really? I think you should let someone else do it, since you look like you've managed to hit yourself more than anything else."
The witty comment earned Vincent a backhanded slap across the cheek, after which Balthazar stormed out of the room, looking like he would wrangle Vincent's neck if he stayed any longer. Vincent was cuffed to the chair and Balthazar had a short temper plus the lack of conscience to beat someone up without a thought. Of course making him angry was the smart thing to do.
The following day, Vincent woke up with a startle as the lights in the cellblock were flicked on all of a sudden, the brightness forcing him to squint as he sat up, half naked, on what passed for a bed in the solitary cell he had been crammed into; another little gift from Balthazar.
A clicking noise heralded the solid steel door swinging open, two guards with electro-batons on their belts marching in. The first had a pile of standard-issue boots, olive-green cargos and a matching shirt folded neatly on his arms whilst the other one simply stood back, drawing his baton and looking at Vincent as if daring the hyena to try something stupid.
The first guard placed the clothes onto the bed, nothing more than a slab of hard concrete with a thin blanket on it, before stepping back.
"Get dressed properly, marine. Once you're done, you've also getting to see your CO before your punishment will be fulfilled." The wolf said quietly, turning then on his heels and marching away, though both he and his buddy remained outside of the cell to keep guard.
In silence Vincent shuffled out of his jeans -everything else had been pretty much taken away from him as a precaution- before slipping on the army clothes. To be honest, the cargos and boots felt a lot better than civilian clothing these days.
Just as Vincent got ready, having even slicked his mane back a little to look more representable, a familiar dog in a great coat -hanging open as always- walked in and Vincent automatically snapped an attention, trying to look as sharp as he possibly could. Balthazar had been true to his words and, before being crammed into the small square cell, Vincent had indeed been patched up, stitched and cleaned. Still, he couldn't open his other eye which was still swollen shut from being repeatedly punched in the face.
"You look like shit, corporal." The Colonel greeted Vincent.
"Thank you, sir." Was all Vincent could come up with after a badly slept night.
"I managed to talk you out of this...Cozy little suite they've given you, but that means you'll be facing a hardened standard disciplinary action. In effect that means two dozen lashes, effective at midday today." Schaefer held a small pause, regarding Vincent from head to toe before asking "Have you ever been whipped before, corporal? In the Boot that is."
"No, Sir, I'm afraid I've never had that particular pleasure, not even in the Boot." Vincent replied.
A grim smile appeared onto Schaefer's muzzle "Then it appears yet another piece of what little innocence you still retain will be stripped from you today...along with a few strips off of your skin. I can tell you it'll hurt like seven kinds of hells, but the scars will at least look nice. Just don't give them the pleasure of hearing you scream too much..."
"I'll try, Sir." Vincent replied, sounding more than a little worried after Schaefer's little speech.
The Colonel could see, and hear, Vincent's nervousness, so he opted to give the hyena a reassuring smile "You'll be fine. Once they're done with you, you'll be in good paws again. I'm sure our medbay 'slave' is more than happy to be treating you. Well...It's almost time, so stay sharp, corporal!"
With that said the Colonel took a step forward and Vincent was sure he was going to be getting a handshake, the hyena's paw twitching a little in preparation to swing up to meet the German Shepherd's paw, but instead the dog did something which made Vincent's eyes go wide open. Schaefer slapped Vincent onto the butt "That's for good luck, corporal."
From his astonishment Vincent couldn't form a proper answer, replying instead with a few gibberish grunts and a dumbfounded nod.
Apparently Schaefer was satisfied with Vincent's response as he merely nodded curtly before sweeping out of the room, leaving Vincent feeling as if he had been hit by a rampaging comet.
A lone drum beating was the only sound aside from the very quiet droning of some furs' hushed conversations on the courtyard of the law enforcement forces' headquarters as Vincent walked along a path lined by railings to keep it clear of onlookers. A small platform had been erected onto the middle of the courtyard on which stood what looked like a huge doorframe for double doors made of steel with chains hanging from it.
Vincent marched parade ground-perfect amongst his guards, two in front of him and two more behind him, over a dozen other guards standing along the railing that circled the platform to maintain order, the entire place filled with curious furs.
In a way Vincent wasn't surprised to see there were so many furs, both in civilian clothing and army greens, gathered to the courtyard. The suffering of others had always been and still was a source of amusement for people.
The guards marched Vincent up the steep flight of stairs, a sergeant shouting for the punishment detail to halt in front of the steel frame.
The two guards who had been standing behind Vincent, in their black uniforms, guided Vincent to stand in the steel frame, ripping his shirt off and latching the chains around his wrists before pressing a button that caused the chains to tighten up, leaving Vincent into a spread-eagle position.
"On charges of multiple assaults, inciting a riot, resisting arrest and behavior unfit for a soldier, corporal Vincent Raikov is hereby sentenced to suffer two dozen lashes." The sergeant read from a piece of paper "Let this punishment be an example for everyone, that the Federation will not tolerate behavior like his. Signed Marshal Vera Reinez, commander of the planetary defence force of Alacast Prime."
The drum had fallen silent as the sergeant had begun reading, a thing of which Vincent was glad. Inside he felt icy cold, fearing the pain that was most certainly going to come soon enough, but despite that he did his best to hide it, focusing onto menial things such as weapon maintenance procedures, theory of tactics and warfare and other such things to keep himself distracted.
As he sensed someone stepping next to him, Vincent slowly turned his head, taking a moment to focus onto the form of the tiger sergeant standing by his side, holding a thick piece of leather out for Vincent to grab.
"Bite onto this, corporal. They say it helps." The tiger said calmly and, after a few heartbeats, Vincent leaned his head down and clamped his fangs around the thick strap of leather, idly wondering if that particular piece had visited the muzzles of other furs too.
Biting softly onto the strap of leather to test how strong it was, Vincent's eyes fell on a bunch of familiar figures standing outside the fence. Most of the Hounds were there as a moral support, including Dan! The massive wolf towered over those around him and, aside from the Hounds, everyone seemed to give him a wide berth.
Much to Vincent's displease, however, Jericho was there too, the wolf standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, looking thoroughly pleased and smug. The leather in Vincent's mouth creaked lightly as Vincent dug his fangs into it, imagining his paws wrapped around Jericho's throat, wrangling the ugly motherfucker's neck.
Vincent was torn out of his thoughts as a searing pain lashed across his upper back, also hitting his flank and chest as the whip's head curled around his body. It took all his willpower to not scream out loud in both surprise and pain, the area where the whip had landed feeling as if someone was pressing a hot brand against his skin.
Vincent gritted his teeth, biting into the leather which groaned under the pressure of his powerful jaws. The second blow didn't feel quite that bad as Vincent was prepared for it this time, feeling how the whip licked at his skin fully across his back a mere inch below the initial hit.
A few scant seconds later the merciless whip bit into Vincent's skin for the third time. The whip struck across Vincent's shoulder blade and its tip curled over his shoulder and down to his pectoral, seeming to add into the slowly rising inferno of pain that was building up around Vincent's body.
Vincent bit into the leather so hard he felt his teeth sink into it until he was sure he had bit at least slightly through the thick piece, his eyes screwed shut with concentration to prevent himself from letting out a sound even as the whip struck him again, and again, and again, lacerating his skin.
Still, despite his bravest efforts, Vincent was no superfur and around the fifteenth or so (he lost count after four) his knees buckled and he started to hang almost solely by the wrists, his head hung low and a light whimper came from his mouth as the merciless whip bit into his skin time and again, the only sign of him still being alive being the spasms he gave every time he was struck.
Blood rushing in his ears, Vincent could only faintly hear someone shouting something, numbers probably, and only barely he picked up someone shouting the number twenty.
A few pain-filled moments later the flogging ceased and Vincent could only hang in the shackles he was bound to, head hung low and ears splayed across his skull. His back felt like it was on fire and dimly he thought he'd probably be bleeding from several places, though he couldn't be sure; aside from the burning pain he could feel nothing else.
Somebody opened the shackles holding Vincent suspended and the hyena collapsed on the spot, though luckily he fell into someone's arms who, after a moment, Vincent realized was Sam, the Doberman looking every bit as stoic as a situation like that demanded.
John's deep, murmured voice drifted into Vincent's ears "You're with us now, Wildfire. Slap-patch and Doc will get you back to shape in no time."
Vincent could only nod in understanding, finding talking to be too much of a strain as Sam and John both took one of Vincent's arms across their shoulders and started to slowly walk, and partially drag, Vincent away.
The gathered crowd was still watching in curiosity as Vincent was escorted into the midst of his own unit which, with Schaefer's lead, marched promptly away at their best possible pace.
Some time later, as The Saint's Rapier was zooming through the relatively small patch of cold, hard vacuum between Alacast Prime and the Hounds' cruiser Triumphant, Schaefer approached Vincent once more.
Only moments earlier, in fact the second they had boarded the gunship, Rey had taken a seat next to Vincent and started to treat the lacerated back of the spotted marine. Schaefer had to suppress a smile as he remembered how Rey had taken one glance at Vincent's back, shaken his head and sprayed then two whole cans of antiseptic fluid across the hyena's mauled back before injecting a hefty dose of painkillers into him. Vincent hadn't reacted in any way at the antiseptic fluid, his flesh still too numb to register anything. After that Rey had started to plaster palm-sized self-adhesive wound patches onto the hyena's mangled back. The sheer amount of the patches -nicknamed by the federate Marines as slap-patches- found from Rey's med-pack was enough to tell Vincent from where Rey had gotten his nickname.
If he'd had the strength, he would've smiled.
Vincent, sitting on one of the chairs lining the walls of the gunship leaning his arms to his knees, slowly lifted his chin up to meet the Colonel's piercing eyes which, for the first time ever, seemed just a hint softer.
Schaefer planted a paw onto Vincent's head and slowly ruffled the battered hyena's headfur "Not a single actual scream... You just made me proud, corporal Raikov." Turning around to regard the rest of the unit, Schaefer gave a lopsided grin that almost, almost, reached his eyes too "Let's give one for our very own Wildfire!"
On that cue all the Hounds -even the sulking Jericho after a collective murderous glance from Sam, Frost, Jim, Dan and Rey- started to howl like crazed feral wolves of old Terra on full moon. Vincent had learned the howling was the Hounds' replacement for the more common "Semper-Fi" and, considering what the unit was mostly made of, it even made sense to Vincent.
"Thanks guys... Mostly for being there as moral support." Vincent replied quietly. He was tired and he wanted nothing more than to get to lie down onto a proper bunk to catch some undisturbed sleep.
On Schaefer's explicit orders -which he personally enforced by herding the other Hounds away despite several audible disapprovals- Vincent was escorted to the sick bay only by John and Sam, who helped the still somewhat strengthless hyena by supporting him. Rey and David "Doc" Hicks had gone beforehand to prepare quarters for Vincent.
As soon as Schaefer was out of ear- and eyeshot John slipped himself away from Vincent. As Sam turned to inquire why the black wolf had done it, John dug out his pack of smokes from the chest pocket of his jacket.
"I gotta smoke, Sam. Haven't been able to do it all morning and I'm starting to get jittery... Think you can handle him by yourself?" John said.
Sam let out a small, knowing sigh followed by a nod and a tiny smile "Sure thing. Go have your cancer stick, I'll lug Wildfire to his suite." And with a wave of his hand John turned around, walking briskly away.
"His addiction is that bad, huh?" Vincent asked wearily. It was only morning and he already felt utterly exhausted.
Sam nodded "Yeah... Once during a mission he ran out of cigs. I can tell you it wasn't a pretty sight."
Vincent raised a brow and turned his head to look at the Doberman, who apparently was lost in thought, smiling at the amusing memory. The remainder of the short walk was spent in silence, Vincent trying his best not to lean too heavily onto Sam, still trying to appear as strong as possible for Machala knows what reason.
After making sure Vincent was resting belly down on one of the beds, Rey nudged Sam to the ribs, saying "Mind if we talk for a moment?"
Looking puzzled Sam followed the Husky out of the small quarantine room -given to Vincent for the sake of privacy- and as soon as the door had closed, Vincent could faintly hear heated discussion starting up. What was being said, however, he couldn't discern.
The muffled conversation went on for five or so minutes before it came to an end with the sound of a slap that Vincent could just barely hear. A moment later Sam entered the room, rubbing his cheek gingerly.
Before Vincent could ask what had happened or why the Dobie had come inside, Sam gave an apologetic grin.
"Rey backhanded me across the cheek... Sufficiently said, I deserved it." Sam said quietly. He hadn't lied, either, as he felt he had fully earned that slap; Rey's way of thanking him for causing such trouble -as in, the trauma- to Vincent. Apparently Jim wasn't the only one who was getting quite fond of the hyena...
"Right..." Was all Vincent could respond. Propped on his belly in the bed, he wrapped his arms around a pillow to shape it into his liking and leaning his cheek against it, simply looking at Sam, who fiddled idly with his fingers, clearly wanting to say something but not quite finding either the courage, the correct words or both to spill it out.
"You obviously want to say something, Sam, so just say it. I'm in no shape right now to bite you for it anyways." Vincent said, offering the Dobie what he hoped was a reassuring smile, even if it took a lot to muster up the energy for it.
"I...You know... I'm just trying to make amends for... for back then." Sam finally gasped out.
"I see..."
Sam fell silent again for a few short moments as he tried to gather himself "I know it won't undo the thing, but I'm still sorry for what I did. I, and most everyone, got talked into it and..." Sam halted as if something had gotten stuck in his throat. He swallowed hard and straightened his back before continuing "No... A soldier won't make excuses, he stands up and suffers the consequences of his actions. I did wrong and you have every right in the whole wide galaxy to hate me for it, but at least I've tried my best to atone and seek forgiveness."
Sam was going to say something else, too, but Vincent silenced him by placing his thumb under the Dobie's chin and his other fingers onto the bridge of his muzzle and pressing the dog's jaws shut.
"Enough, Sam, enough. That's quite enough, thank you." Vincent said, making an attempt to sound as friendly as he could "What's done is done and it's in the past. Sure, I got a nice memento out of it, but just because I can't forget doesn't mean I couldn't forgive."
Vincent giggled in his typical hyenine fashion, managing even a genuine smile as he carried on, still pinching Sam's muzzle shut "You've got guilt and remorse plastered all over your face and that's enough for me. Now stop flogging yourself mentally over this, dammit!" Finished, he let off his grip of Sam's snout, the Dobie rubbing his muzzle lightly to get blood flowing again.
Sam grinned faintly, looking then over his shoulder as he spoke "Smokey...eh, John is also sorry, but he's too damn proud to admit it. You know, he volunteered to be one of your escorts. I guess that was his way of trying to redeem himself, since usually he's too damn butt-lazy to do anything that isn't directly ordered."
"I take sex is an exception to that for him." Vincent said with a grin.
"Oh how did you possibly guess that one?" Sam replied in mock surprise, the dog's act broken by his wide, toothy grin.
The two of them looked at each other for a moment before bursting into brief but hearty laughter.
An hour later Sam was seated in a chair, the Doberman's arms slung across his chest, a faint smile curled to the corner of his muzzle as he looked at Vincent snoring quietly on the bed, the hyena's almost nude form covered from the waist down with the blanket, his patched back bare to cause no unnecessary scaffing.
Vincent's nose wiggled just a touch as if the hyena was sniffing something in his sleep, the wiggling followed by an incomprehensible murmur which, by the looks of it, was part of something pleasant as the hyena's expression looked calm and serene.
Sam was glad. Glad that they had had their conversation. Glad that Vincent had given his conscience peace. Glad that Vincent had been willing to forgive.
The door opened soundlessly and Rey padded in, handing Sam a plastic mug filled with steaming coffee.
"Call it a truce?" Rey whispered and Sam only nodded, not wanting to disturb the sleeping hyena.
"He looks cute, sleeping like that, even if his back reminds B-grade minced meat." Sam whispered in turn after a moment of silence, earning him a sly grin from Rey who wrapped an arm around the Dobie's shoulders.
"He sure is...And a lot more than that. I dare to say he's one helluva Hound."
"Yeah, I agree..." Sam mumbled, standing then up and walking out with Rey to let Vincent get some well-earned rest.
Yet another chapter wrapped up and there's plenty more to come! Stay tuned for the next exciting episode of The Raging Hounds as they return in "Unveiled Warrior!"
Comment, vote and thus let me know you still want more ;3