Elkpelt: On a roleplay site, my friend and I decided to make a story on Fanfiction. Half the story belongs to me and the other half belongs to her. Please review.
Chapter One: The Devil's Mutt
Her paws gave sound as they splashed passed inside the tiny worlds of the muddy puddles that were scattered like many spots across the city's black, concrete streets that stretched as far as the naked eye could see. The bright yellow, white and red eyes of the motorized monsters awoke as the green light perched inside the dome of the street light as it signaled the cars to move or be stopped for many moments more. Fuel, the black-and-white Jack Russell pasted with mud, raced across the streets far from the forest. The stray had no where to go as she struggled to escape from a tall shadow running after her; both dog and human struggling to avoid the wild, metal creatures of the roads as they stampeded passed.
The blood-red van with the silver words that wrote 'Pound' littered across the van's flank. The dogs within... cried. Fuel wouldn't be next. She suddenly was cornered at a wall, the human had a strange wooden device in his palms with a loop at the end. Many dogs called it 'the choker.' The loop was at her throat and pulled the struggling stray to the van with loud begging.
"No! Please! Have mercy Citywalker!" She cried to the man who paid her no heed.
The Jack Russell continued her pointless begging as she was dragged from the throat across the wet concrete, the tips of her black claws making a skid as they skipped across the hard floor as she tried to hold her ground but alas, too small and fragile to keep herself from capture. She felt as if she were suffocating; the device was crushing her windpipe and making breathing an task of agony as the tall human male hauled her to the blood-red van's back where, the giant jail-wall for the stray and lost canines appeared; their faces both cute and ugly pale and dark from despair as they cried and begged like the helpless Fuel. Fuel felt herself drop to her chin as the man kicked the door with an angry snarl at the desperate hounds within. "Shad up!" He snapped.
A skinny whippet pup from within looked at Fuel as he cried. "Fuel! They nearly suffocated us!" Tears streamed down the puppy's blue eyes. Fuel was horrified.
"Get us out! Please!" Begged the voice of an much older canine, a Dalmatian who was at least seven.
With a swoop of the dog's massive paws, it flew, flew at the van, a snarl ripping through the beast. What was this Dane's name? Why, Tod, of course. He landed on the back of the van, growling loudly, clawing at the van's outer edged, which chipped paint off, yet didn't do anything else. "Fuel!" He snapped loudly, as if the name gave him extra strength. He was truly a huge dog, but not enough for the blood-red van.
The usually so strong and head-tough female looked upwards in despair at the tall and tough-shouldered gray Great Dane as he perched like an majestic Hawk on the blood-red van's roof. The very car that put fear into the innocent hearts of the canines that prowled the city's alleys. The cries within the van increased at Tod's epic entrance as they heard the mighty bark of the great Tod. Fuel, brown eyes growing wet from the incoming tears of fear, howled out as the man glared up in anger, rage and surprise at Tod. The dog that was now standing on the van's top. The fatter man who drove the mortised monster yelled as he peeked out to watch his partner who was staring at Tod. "Tod! They're trying to take me! Us! The pack!"
He snarled, eyes turning to the driver, rage flashing through them. He lunged, large fangs ready to kill. He landed, knocking the man out of the car, wrapping his mouth around the head, and pulling, ripping off the flesh from the face, and leaving him. He deserved it, right? Yeah, he did. Turning with rage to the fat man, he growled once more, head lowered in pure aggression. "You wanna try me, tubby?" He snapped, brows raised, teeth bared.
The fat man was forced to release the black, covered wheel with a scream of pain as he was tackled by the great mass of gray fur that was the Dane. The male cried and struggled as the slobbering and deadly jowls lined with angry teeth grappled for his plump skull and chewed, the blood seeping passed the cracks of the injuries the fearsome Tod left behind in his pale skull.
The skinny man outside the jailed-back that contained the unlucky dogs gave a scream of horror and released the captured Fuel who panted to catch her breath. The skinny man rushed to his partner's aid and struggled to grip the loose skin at the back of Tod's neck with desperate pulls; determined to save his fat friend. Fuel watched, looking at the captured strays from within who cheered as Tod tore the man apart.
Feeling the thing grip his scruff, he chuckled, motionless, waiting for the man's reaction. This would be all to easy for the dog. For a long while, he was still. Unmoving. But, in a flash of grey, the male had ripped his scruff away, with a bit of fur, and had his fangs on the pole, and thrusting it at the man who was still holding, pinning him against the van, pole crushing so bad, that it was possible that it might puncture his abdomen. Now, having the man against the van, he barked through the pole: "Come on, guys. Find a way out while I take care of him."
The skinny man cried out as he was attacked; his clothed back meeting the deep red wall of the van he and his partner drove. The human cringed as his stomach bled; the deep injury kissing passed his brown shirt and glossing like lip-gloss in the low light as the red liquid of the body stained his clothes. The fat man lay out cold on the wet city floor with his head bleeding in large amounts. The skinny male of the two glared at Tod and muttered. "The Devil's Mutt..."
Fuel listened to Tod as she shook the device off her skinny neck and pouncing up the steps of the blood-red van to try and unhook the door to free her comrades. They cheered with wagging tails and slobbery jowls. The black-and-white Jack Russell Terrier unhooked the door with a few bounces and a light white-haired forepaw; making the jailed-wall sweep open.
The dogs leaped out with grace and excitement with cries of prays and happiness. The whippet puppy stopped mid-step and turned to Fuel as a nearby city light made his cobalt eyes glint. "Thank you miss." The puppy was suddenly off again, a blur in the night as he scampered after the others.
The male let go after wrenching it out, turning back. "Lets go." He muttered, walking away casually from the two injured men, nudging Fuel's side softly. "You alright, scrap?" He asked, eyes shining with concern. Scarlet ribbons ran down his neck, from the nipping of the human's pole.
The small Jack Russell Terrier looked up at the Great Dane Tod as he nudged her scrawny side, her brown eyes spotting the blood that dripped down the giant male's neck like the rain drops that were fluttering from the dark sky above; relieved to know it was the two men's blood and not her dear friend. The tiny dog gave a whimper as she looked at the blood-red van and then his silver-lined face. "Shaken but not stirred Tod." She told her friend. The dog stared into the darkness, then the bloody mess Tod had left to save her and the other dogs. They owned the city streets; not those humans.