Carnival of Rust [Fell & Noodle]

[»Rie]

Like all good shows this one would have a plot twist, here and now the audience would be expecting the final blow to be struck. Perhaps the 'hero' would fall, and the 'comrade' would leap forth to avenge him and bring an end to the villain. After all, the comrade was still rather fresh looking, and surely this violent villain would charge in just like he had every other time in this parade of terror. This was the height of the act, the only thing left was defeat or victory and then the finale; maybe something to show them what had happened to the intrepid characters whose lives they had witnessed for a blink of time...

Junius swayed slightly eyes following the black shepherd as he began to pace like an anxious lion in it's cage. He could smell the stink of fear and urine as the dark dog, half witless with his own terror. The Doberman could nearly taste the unease that scorched through the other male, and his tongue lapped slightly at the air, as thought he very well could feel it crawling over his taste buds like fetid flesh. The dog knew he was beaten, he could read it in his stance; but he was a brave fool, and like all brave fools would stand until the end. His sacrificial words made Junius want to laugh, and vomit all at once. He gave a low soft laugh, his head turning side to side as he considered the dark dog, like a clock work doll. Blood and mud stained him from head to toe turning him into some nightmare creature that had crawled from the depths of dreams to entreat the world of light to feel it's terror.

The Doberman's muscles bunched, and he gave himself a swift shake sending ribbons of blood, saliva, and mud flinging from his saturated hide, and as he shed the grime it almost seemed he shed his fatigue and pain as well. Raise the bar higher, catch a second wind. Let them tremble. He sucked in a breath of the fouled air, smelling the scent of renewed rain approaching, and the sky grumbled a low dark chorus. The storm refusing yet, to relinquish it's heavy burden of rain. Lightning flickered in coruscated patterns on the purple-black undersides.

The stage was set for the ending, the plot seemed straight forward now, and as the villain seemed to rise again from the ashes of exhaustion the music would change from the tone of battle to his personal theme. A chilling tone that would set the teeth of the audience on edge with apprehension; it couldn't be! the hero always wins! Surely, any second now a heart lifting score would begin, proof of triumph for the side of good.

Junius tensed his muscles, preparing to charge forward and end this fight now, after all the silly fool couldn't hope to continue to delay the inevitable end. His terror was to poignant, his wounds to great; and he had no skill to continue enduring. This match was Junius' and the Doberman knew it with a certain arrogance. Then, however, a flicker of motion caught his attention, and he noted with some amusement the flickering, faltering, of the other dog. This dog, he realized, had instincts coiling like asps just beneath the surface. Well, well, well, now this gave the vicious male a wonderfully wicked idea. Before he could comment on what he had seen, however, the paler dog was moving forward to place himself between Junius and the dark dog; declining the offer Junius had made. To the Doberman it almost seemed as though the hybrid was trying to convince himself as much as Junius.

The Doberman rolled his shoulders, twisting his head from side to side in an almost human gesture as though he were trying to pop the bones in his neck. His paws instead of carrying him into a quick lunge drew him off into a pace, and he began to circle the duo again; eying them over as he strode around them in the churned mud. Somewhere in the near distance a crow cawed loudly, demandingly. He could almost see them now, fractures and weaknesses weaving a target shaped pattern. He could reach out and clasp his claws into the minute holes, wiggle his paws and watch them grow, spread. Pick at the weak points until nothing but a broken heap remained.

Those dark lifeless eyes of his turned first to the dark shepherd and when he spoke his voice was low and soothing in tone, almost hypnotic; it was pure contradiction to earlier, "How very noble of you, dark one." He acknowledge, letting his silver-tongue take the lead, his tone flowing like honey. "So brave of you, to stand against me even as I see you fear me." The Doberman's circle deviated, and he moved in toward the black shepherd, snaking his head out and snapping his teeth at his nose, though not aiming to bite. His pace carried him back to his original path, "So willing to sacrifice yourself..."

Junius let his gaze slid over, marking intense glances across the matting hide of the hybrid, his voice never changing a nuance, "You heard him, pale one. He wishes to give his life for you, why not grant him this; surely you are honorable enough to give a noble fighter his last wishes?" Coercion danced along his tongue like a snake hissing in the ear, and he swung his eyes back to the dark dog, "Or, perhaps, dark one... Perhaps you should take your fleeing now?" He inquired, not unkindly. "Surely you can see your comrade is more or less untouched, would he not have a better chance to stand against me and walk away?" All creatures had self-preservation instincts, and Junius spoke to them now. Dogs, unfortunately, seemed to have had these mostly bred out of them for the replacement of protective ones.

Leaving the dark male to contemplate his words his gaze once more riveted onto the hybrid, the steady wet thump of his walking paws a counter point to the thrum of his dark voice. He knew, staring into the mostly untouched males eyes as he passed by on his circuit; he knew on an instinctual level that the blood of the truly ancient sung in his veins. Junius' dark features twitched with suppressed delight; he kept his visage blank and grim. "I can see in you great instinct, pale one." he murmured, his head tilting a little to the side, and his shark-like eyes sweeping over the deviations from pure bred shepherd anatomy, "You can feel you're ancestors whisper, can't you? They tell you 'This male is weak' don't they? After all, he is not your pack is he? A detriment such as he would be culled. Weakness, breeds weakness; does it not?" Junius watched them, both the stronger stance at the fatigued one with calculating eyes.

Survival instinct was a funny thing, something Junius understand rather well. All creatures carried it in some amount, though Junius fathomed his was about burnt up. He may have nothing to exist for, but exist he did; and on a certain level he quite enjoyed his existence; and this little squabble certainly brought an amount of entertainment into his dreary days. How would this duo react to his devil spoken words, he couldn't wait to find out.

The villain had thoroughly rearranged this script, when the final act should have been drawing to a dramatic climax, he'd let it settle again; playing like a cat with a mouse.

[Noodle!]

Inhale. Nails across a classroom black board signified the metaphor of his rasping breaths. He would inhale, and the sick, deadening sound would echo in Harlow’s Waste Management Center. Ravens and vultures, those harpies of death waiting on his demise, would shiver in delight and send up their broken laughter as they strained forward; waiting for him to fall. Exhale. The rasping would stop, the birds would look for his chest to be still, but instead he exhaled a loud growl; a sound that had grown to become a feral howl that was both desperate and frightened. And he was very frightened at that. The German Shepherd was only a pup, inexperienced in the ways of dog-to-dog war. It was something that he never practiced, never prepared for. He frowned upon it. Now he had regrets for the first time in his life, he wished that he had that prior experience. It would have helped him so much, and perhaps he would not stand here before a beast that could tear him apart. He shook as if cold, body spasming beyond his control. Fur stood on end as if electrified by some invisible static. That concoction of his bodily fluids dripped from his fur and stained the ground a rainbow of dreary colors as he stood there on trembling limbs, his body threatening to give in at any moment.

The Doberman’s words were like honey laced with arsenic, sweet and tempting but holding a deadly quality if you decided to take his advice. Kavok is naïve, and he considers those sweet temptations. His eyes wander over to the wolf hybrid; he was almost completely wholly intact. Unharmed, and untargeted earlier by the demon’s advances. He was willing to help the black dog fight this battle, and he was completely capable of taking over the battle at the point. Kavok could lie down, rest, and let this unrelenting pain go away… Let it fade into hallowed numbness that he longed for so much. The proposition was indeed very alluring. His joints creaked like a rotting pier, and he nearly tumbled to the dirt before looking back up at the Doberman again. In that moment, Kavok grew up a little bit. He wasn’t thinking about those childish desires, those empty things he usually longed for. Survival was gleaming in his eyes, and a passion for life replaced all those items he once held dear. In that slight arousal of maturity, he saw past his adolescent veil and stared into the eye of the Doberman for the first time. He saw the conniving, twisted, malicious devil that was trying to lessen their chances at endurance. He was trying to break this ‘team’ apart; divide the two and destroy the stronger: the wolf-dog. Then would he finish off Kavok himself? He almost hoped so in this moment of time.

His ears twitched atop his head when the ‘pale one’ was being addressed. He was now playing on his thoughts, prying into those wild instincts that came from the feral canines of his past. He taunted him, making him consider giving Kavok his last wishes. Last wishes. He thought dryly, Have I no chance at all? He assured himself no. He realized that the three of them were complete strangers, and they did not know each other’s names. Even the two ‘comrades’ could not address each other properly; and perhaps they never would. The possibility that they would never introduce themselves nor ever carry on a proper conversation was slim. A thin tendril of a concept. His gleaming eyes wandered to the wolf-dog and his stomach churned, wondering if he was considering the offer as well. Nobility, he told himself, had no place here. This was a primitive sort of meeting; no time for niceties or valor. That would equal death, and already Kavok was beginning to see the error of his ways. It was too late to fix things for himself, but this pale dog could still make it out alive.

Go on. He said to the wolf-dog, voice shaking until it was almost incomprehensible, You heard him, go on and leave. Don’t have any guilt, I would rather this monster devour only me than the both of us.

Finally his legs bent inwards, collapsing like the columns of some ancient building, and he fell. Black fur momentarily flew upwards with gravity as he went down. Ears lay to the side of his head as if the cartilage that pricked them had melted away. That was a light squish as he landed in the mud formed by his own blood, urine, and saliva. As quickly as he had fallen, instinct screamed at him. The voice inside him was shrill and aggressive, it demanded he get up or die. And he hearkened to it, raising his head, and supporting himself on his front paws. His back legs would not obey his commands to rise, so he only half stood before them. He was panting, wanting to give in to this sweet voice that called him to just lay down. He struggled to speak, but no words came out. Inhale. Exhale. He told himself again, the sound of scraping on stone returned. Would this unlikely, incapable hero meet his end here? Indeed, Kavok expected that this scene would be his last escapade in Harlow.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad; all dogs go to heaven after all.

[fell]

The climax had peaked, and now came the slope down towards the ending. Fell could feel it, the battle was almost done with. There wasn’t a lot more that the black shepherd could take, he looked half dead as it was. The Doberman had stopped his physical attacks, and now was lashing at them verbally. His words were twisted and conniving. The dark eyes of the hybrid shifted, looking at the mess of what was left of the black shepherd. Would the dog even survive, if they were allowed to walk away without another word? It sure didn’t look like he would. It seemed the dog had already made the sacrifice.

Once more, Fell found himself being the victim of another verbal attack. An ear twitched, as he listened. The Doberman must have caught his stumble, because now he was playing it to his own use. Fell was wavering, just as the Dobermans words were meant to make him. The black shepherd was already on the brink of death, putting him out of his misery wouldn’t be such a bad thing, now would it? Wouldn’t the shepherd be thankful? Even if they did get to leave, would the shepherd even make it home? Recovering from such wounds might even be more painful than the pain he was experiencing now, too.

Then came the good conscience, and the bad one. Each perched atop Fell’s head, breaking out in an argument to try and persuade Fell. ”Fell, that dog is in pain because he wanted to protect you. There’s a chance he could survive, its your turn to protect him!” The good conscience angel spoke, getting smacked by the devil conscience two seconds later. ”Look at the dog, Fell. It’s as good as dead. He wanted to die for you. Finish him off, and you can go home safe to your family! The Doberman said you could. Just one bite..” A sudden snarl escaped the light furred dog, his head shaking as he tried to rid himself of the stupid consciences that were annoying him. He needed to decide this on his own! The angel was right, he couldn’t just turn his back on the other shepherd. It was wrong and complete betrayal.

Joining in with the consciences, was his feral instinct. The little guy sat between the angel and devil, arms folded and laughing. ”He’s weak, Fell. The world has no room for weakness and failure. Survival of the fittest, Fell. Look at them both, are you not the fit one left?” The words were twisted, Fell knew he wasn’t stronger than the Doberman. The instinct was lying, he couldn’t give in and follow its words. Denial set in soon, and the instinct picked up on it instantly. Why do you protect him, he isn’t your human family. Do you even know his name? Kill the weak!” The devil hugged the Instinct, ”I like you, we have similar interest. Its 2 against 1, Fell. Kill the dog, and walk home free!”

”No. I won’t.” Fell snarled, his paws sinking into the earth as he stood beside the shepherd. It was a foolish thing, not to just finish off the shepherd and walk away with his own life in tack. It would have been the easy way out of a tough situation. The angel conscience, at Fell’s outburst, jumped for joy. Only to get smacked down by the Devil, who grumbled and pouted. ”Wrong choice, Fell. I hope he takes a bite out of you!” Wow, evil, wasn’t he? Instinct snarled and smacked the Devil. ”STUPID, if he dies so do we!”

Fell once again went quiet, as Junius once more directed him with his twisted words. All of which, just had been relayed to him via his instinct not two seconds earlier. Was this dog in his head, too? Sitting along with the devil and instinct, betting how much it would take to turn the dog against his ally, the angel? Another snarl escaped Fell, pearly whites bared at the Doberman. ”Shut up. You know nothing.” Inside, Fell knew though, if this kept up, he wouldn’t be able to keep the evil thoughts at bay. Peer pressure was such a horrible thing.

Ears twitched, his head turning as he heard the other male suddenly speak. It told him to go, to flee. Part of him wanted to, and his conscience and instinct pushed him towards it. Then came in yet another factor, the loyalty and will to protect that came from his shepherds mix of his genes. The same genes that flowed through those of the black shepherd, the genes that had basically sealed his death. His paws shifted on the soft ground, the hair along his back bristling and lifting as yet another snarl escaped Fell.

Fuck the devil, screw the instinct, and to hell with them along with the harassment coming from the Doberman. ”I’m not going anywhere.” He answered, glancing back at the shepherd to see the dog struggling to his feet. Was he going to die, right then and there? No doubt, if he did, Fell would take off before the Doberman could attack him. As long as the other shepherd had the will to survive, Fell would protect it.