Lost? She'd never been lost. In all of her insignificant life, the pretty pedigree poodle had stayed right at home with her empty rooms and hollow voice. Maybe a walk outside would be good, she'd thought. Maybe it would… but it hadn't been. She'd forget where home was the moment she turned a corner. All she wanted was the sense of adventure she'd gotten from Dodger and his gang- that time they'd saved that mangy cat. Now she knew she belonged home; she'd always belong there. For Georgette was not the biggest dog on the streets- in fact…
"Oof!" Georgette nearly peed herself when she slammed into a thick wall of muscle and brown fur, collapsing on her weak paws and cowering beneath an icy grin. Toxic yellow eyes looked sickly at her with an infectious madness, a demonic glee. His blue, jewel studded collar gleamed as well as the shiny burns across his face. "Y-you…" The bitch choked and tried to scramble away. Her muscles locked in fear.
"You bitch," He chuckled, voice deep. "You stupid fucking bitch. You thought you could get away with it. But-"
She couldn't help it. She screamed out "I swear I didn't mean it! I didn't know he was going to die, I just wanted the kitten, and-" A loud yelp and fresh blood trickled down her blue cheek. He wasn't grinning anymore, but showing those unnatural jaws, so wide and powerful. The teeth were perfect white gems and rounded, gleaming in the sick yellow lamp light. Why was no one helping her? Couldn't they here her- didn't they know who she was?
"You shouldn't have cut me off Georgy…" He rounded his body around hers so that he towered over her now, blocking her between the brick wall of a crumbling apartment complex and his own brute muscle. Tears streamed down her face and mingled with blood. "Roscoe died on impact. Electrocuted… but you should've gone back and checked the bodies, Georgy. I fell but I didn't hit the metal. I fell and I hit the ground and all I could smell was my fried brother and no one cared, not you, not any of Dodgers goons, not Sykes. You, you and all your stupid friends… you'll all pay in special ways. I wish you would've killed me. But you didn't, and I don't have the fucking heart to do kill me myself- but that's ok. You'll all just die for me; for him."
"I-I didn't know… I didn't mean to…" the whisper was less than audible.
"Get up," he growled.
"Hu?" She asked dumbly, cringing and curling her paws toward her frail frame.
"Get up!" he barked, baring those deadly teeth again. But he sheathed them quickly. The look on his face was cold and unforgiving, stern but evil... his ears perked up and he locked onto her face, backing up to give her room to stand. She got to her feet, but nearly collapsed at the phrase that echoed before her next. "And stand still… I could use a good fuck."
"Dodge- check it. I found her fur…." Dodger's head looked over at Rita. The sly saluki was sniffing clumps of curly blue fur caught on the gnarly alleyway sidewalk. Fagan was not with them, nor many of the others, but Oliver was laying upon the lid of a gleaming trashcan.
"Georgettes?" he meowed, jumping down. His now lean, young body was agile and substantially larger. Months had gone by, and they'd all thought DeSoto was dead, but his scent here was too strong to deny.