Pistol | Di Trieste Initiation 2/3 | MD

“Why bones?” Pistol asked himself as he trotted through the slums, headed towards the rundown powerplant that was supposedly another pack’s territory. It seemed a sort of odd request to make one do just to be part of the family. “Guess he just wants to see if we’ll obey him for such a mundane task…” He continued to muse to himself. Although he was a brilliant fighter and his mind was strong, his life in captivity and solitude had limited the knowledge he gained about interactions with others and how life really works when you are a free dog. His amnesia made it even harder to remember, forcing him to rely heavily on instincts and muscle memory.

His pace slowed to a crawl as he tread lightly, the smells and territory markers were faint but present. He dropped to a crouch and wound his way around debris and garbage, careful to remain out of sight of the patrols. He snickered to himself as one passed right near him without suspecting anything. The thrills of being caught any second, the feeling of being a secret agent on an important mission, made him giddy with excitement.

Spotting a few pups playing with what looked to be the carcass of some form of dog, he crept forward. There was a patron watching over the whelps as they gnawed on the bones and bounced around. Pistol waited for his opening. He was soon rewarded when a changing of the guard took place. The warden turned to converse with the other and the beau seized his chance at the bones. He darted out from behind his cover and approached the pups. They thought he was just another of their pack it seems and smiled and bounced around him. This was lucky for him instead of having them raise the alarm. He smiled back at them before snatching a bone from the carcass.

“Mind if I take this?” he asked the pups with a wink and a charming smile. They shook their heads saying it was ok before begging for him to stay and play with them. The commotion caused the guards to look over.

Pistol took off like a bullet from a gun, keeping his body low as he propelled himself further and faster than usual. The angry snarls and barks were heard behind them but their focus was turned to the babes, allowing his escape. He could hear alarm howls and he was sure the hunt was on.

Only once he was well out of the territory did he pause for rest, dropping the bone to the dirt. A smirk sat on his face as he panted from the exertion. Oh it felt mighty good to run! “Well that was sure fun,” he said to himself as he licked the drool from his chops after carrying the slim bone for so long. He decided to rest for a spell before continuing on.

~

Dusk began to settle on the outskirts of the city. Pistol picked himself up and shook the stiffness from his limb. An ache settled in his shoulder where the bullet had lodged, causing him to limp to the bone and for the first few strides as he continued his journey. As he moved, he gradually gained speed and his gait became easier and more comfortable. He loped through the land as the setting sun disappeared gradually, raking its last rays along the ground like long fingers.

He soon began to find signs of a pack once more and tread carefully through the alleys. Passing by a cardboard box, he was startled by a low growl coming from the depths within. He struggled to see in the dim light. Eyes finally adjusting, he found a stocky dog sitting within with a large bone in his mouth. Pistol took a few steps back and hid his own bone from sight before facing the other once more.

“I’m taking that bone with me,” he said slyly as he glared at the brute, head lowered, shoulders squared, and ears back. It was a wolfish grin that spread across his features like wildfire as his body started moving of its own volition. “Won’t you please give it to me?” he asked, tilting his head to the side charmingly. The other just laughed and replied by snarling and snapping, calling him a pup and hurling curses and insults. It was obvious the male was quite old. Pistol was not keen on fighting again, but his drive for a family pleaded with him to let his body take care of the mutt.

Pistol skirted to the side of the box where his opponent was unable to see him. He heard the dog stir within and lunged at the box when it sounded like he had stood. The cardboard crumpled inward and he felt his weight come down on the male. Teeth gnashed at the material as he pinned the dog beneath him, aiming to create a large hole for his head to fit through. The dog howled and snarled as it tried to break free of his bed. Ears flicked back at the awful sound of claws scrabbling uselessly.

Jaws finally broke through and he tasted fur. The mutt realized this as well and began to wriggle and struggle harder. Pistol was almost bucked off, surprised by the ferocity with which the old-timer fought, but he was in his youthful prime and was more than a match. He lunged his head down, jaws open and saliva dripping in anticipation. Incisors clamped down around the neck of the mutt, frailer frame allowing his spine to show. With satisfying crunches and pops, Pistol shook his head back and forth violently as he broke the neck and pulverised the bones. The snarls turned to howls of pain, then to whimpers, and finally to silence.

The beau dropped back to the ground lightly after letting go. He spit fur and bone fragments from his mouth while fresh blood dribbled from his jowls. He even tasted weak. Pistol then burrowed underneath the wreckage and mangled corpse to retrieve the bone he had earned. Dragging it free he waltzed over to his other prize and gathered them both in his mouth before taking off before anyone caught him.

Tired from the exertion and feeling the loss of adrenaline, Pistol rested once more after putting a considerable amount of distance between himself and his victim.

~

Pistol awoke to a chilly morning. He blinked a few times as his head had begun to ache again. A yawn split his mouth and he realized his maw and face were caked in dried blood.

What the hell happened this time?

Amnesia had claimed his memory once more. He rose to his feet and sniffed around for clues. He found the two bones he had claimed as prizes.

Ahh, I remember my task…

The images of his travels and first meeting with Vince flooded his damaged mind. August eyes screwed shut against the onslaught of pain that radiated from the scar on his forehead. He lowered back down and shoved his nose between his paws, bringing them up to dab at his sore face and eyes. After a few moments, he still had no recollection as to how he had come in possession of the trophies. It obviously had included bloodshed, though upon inspection he deduced it was not his own.

Grunting, he rose to his feet, unable to put full weight on his stiff leg once more. He felt more and more broken by the minute. He scooped the objects into his mouth and started back to Vince’s territory. It was slow going at first, but as morning came and went, he gained speed. His stomach grumbled at him and the beau realized he had probably lacked a meal in the past few days. The thought of hunting after his task was complete fueled his footsteps and the small hotel was soon in his sights once more.