Feral
Chapter Two
It was a rare time when Cid would take Lightning out during the day. But it was always out that steely back door, and always in the black van.
You see, Cid was a businessman of a very high caliber. Something I'm sure most of you have guessed by now considering the monetary strain of his clandestine activities. Cid Raines was the acting executive of Raines Communications Corporation, and had inherited the business from his father, who inherited it from his father. Several generations back, plenty of time for a once tiny company to blossom into a global presence. They had their fingers in everything by now, from home cleaning products to bank vault locks. Almost every other business in Eden, and all the other cities, were either selling or using their products. With that being said, it shouldn't come as much of a surprise to mention that there was also a banking division of the company.
The banking division mostly dealt with corporation wide payroll and financial management, but it also worked in loans. And like any establishment such as this, it was very wise to be punctual on your payments.
Or else.
And "or else" was sitting quietly in the back of the van, her master with aims on collection of an outstanding payment in the front passenger seat. He was quiet as well, so was the radio, and he propped one elbow on the hem of the window, his hand curled as he rest his chin against his leather gloved knuckles.
They were off to the packing district that was maybe a fifteen minute drive from the harbor. True, his company owned most of what was out there, but there were a few independent complexes, and many of their founders had borrowed start-up capital from him. The client Cid was currently concerned with was a man named Jerome Crast. He was a balding, self-proclaimed body builder that had a thing for jewelry, and the owner of Pioneer Freight. And he was more than two months overdue on a sizable loan. Cid's banks could handle the property loan, but he wanted the money he had given out of his own pocket back. With interest.
Jerome was in his office when Cid arrived, on the phone with someone or another, his thick, gold adorned fingers clicking against the plastic of the receiver. His other hand rested atop his desk, cradling one of the fattest cigars God had ever seen, lit and shedding coils of gray smoke. He was a big guy, his biceps about as big as his gut, and he wore a sweat stained wife-beater that allowed the copious amounts of salt and pepper hued chest hair to stick out. I suppose after it stopped growing on his head it went to the rest of him. Don't even start to imagine what his back looks like.
He was going on about having what sounded like an irate customer's order on a truck and on the road by the end of the day when the intercom on his desk lit up, a little green button flickering. He hung up the phone and jabbed the button with his sausage shaped index finger.
"Mr. Raines is here to see you, sir." came the receptionist.
Jerome swallowed. "A'ight, send 'im in." and then shoved the cigar between his teeth as he took a deep breath. He knew what was coming, but he was ready for it. Mr. Raines, by any standard, was a wiggler of a fella. Jerome was convinced he had nothing to worry about. Still he watched the doorway like a hawk, feeling a fresh sheen of sweat forming on the back of his neck.
The door opened as he expected, but what puzzled Crast was what he thought to be Cid saying "wait" just before he turned to face him from the threshold.
"Afternoon, Jerome," Cid greeted casually, tugging at the hem of his leather glove as he approached.
"Raines," was his response with a curt nod. "What'cha needin' t'day?"
"I do hate to be pushy, but I wanted to ask if you had come by my money."
"Can't say I have. Sorry, man. I'm doin' my best."
"I'm sure you are." Cid nodded, seeming to understand. "Couldn't you give me even half of it?"
He shook his shine-top head. "Can't do it. You can be sure to see the check in the mail as soon as I have it."
"Hmm," Cid spied the numerous ring's on Jerome's fingers, his expression unchanging though he knew the man was lying through his teeth. "Well, if that's the case, I'm afraid I can't give you any more chances."
"I got nothin' to give ya, Raines." his jaw tightened around the cigar, threatening to bite the end off. One of his massive hands drifted out of site, towards his lap, a pair of his fingers touching the handle of the pistol he had hidden in the front of his ill-fitting jeans, the barrel in his crotch. "Or ain't that plain enough English for ya?" He was starting to sweat more.
Cid grinned, laughing a little. "Oh no, you're being quite clear. But I won't be leaving. Not empty handed."
"I think ya will." Jerome stood up, one hand resting on the bend of the gun's grip.
Cid was still grinning as he cocked his head back, half turning. He couldn't care less what the oaf was packing. He always had something better. "Lighting, come."
Jerome watched, baffled as he saw the tiny thing stroll into his office to stand at Cid's side. "What da hell is this shit?"
"I thought we'd play a little game, Jerome." he had one hand on Lightning's shoulder now, squeezing gently, his silent command for her to target. "If you can draw that gun before she reaches you -and subsequently causes you a great deal of pain- I'll forgive your debt entirely and call it a day. How's that sound?"
Jerome started laugh, puffs of smoke bursting from his mouth. "You've gotta be jokin'," he lifted one mussed eyebrow, disbelieving. "You're serious? Christ, I knew you was crazy, but I didn't think you was stupid."
"I'm full of surprises. So are you in?"
"Hell, sure, I'll humor ya. Though I think yer gonna end up missin' that money."
"Count of three?"
"It's your ballgame."
Yes, indeed. It was. "One..."
Jerome's fingers drifted away from the gun in a sportsmanlike fashion, fluttering as his heart rate climbed.
"Two.."
Cid's thumb reached for the release on the collar, taking a step to stand behind her.
"Three"
Cha-click.
The air shivered with an explosion of movement, and Lightning threw herself nearly half way across the room, over the desk, and latched on to the stocky man. His hand hand barely began to move towards his gun as he screamed a pig-like squeal, tumbling to floor with all of Lightning's weight on him. His chair toppled over, his head hit the wall, and the rest of his body hit the carpet. Then a fist collided with his face. Again and again, with the force of wrecking ball at the speed of a bullet. Again and again. The first two blows completely crushed his nose and the surrounding bone of his cheeks and upper set of teeth. Blood spattered as it poured out of his mouth, his cries and groans gargling. And what little he could see from the percussive haze of pain were dilated and wild blue eyes, and a full snarl.
"G-gods, make it stop!" he pleaded, his breath wet. "Get 'er off!"
Cid appeared with no great hurry, bending down to slip the collar back on. He only had to tug in a gentle way for his dog to back away, docile once again. Blood dripped heavily from her fists and crimson blossoms spattered her new clothes. There were even some droplets smeared on her face.
Cid crouched down, smiling, though not in a smug fashion. He reached for the pistol that hadn't left its cradle and looked it over, checking the chamber to find it already loaded, the safety off.
"P-please," Jerome sputtered pitifully, his eyes closed and his hands up and trembling. "I got a wife...a-and kids."
"That so? Hm." Cid mused. He put the pistol in his own pocket, marking off the dollar amount it was worth in his head and crossing it off his mental list of what this pig owed him. Then he proceeded to slide each blood smudged ring from each of his fat fingers. Still he mentally counted. "That's good to know. Now, as it stands, Mr. Crast, all this counts for about half of what you owe me,"
The rings alone, combined, were easily worth more than twenty grand.
"I'll be expecting at least half of that within the next month. If I don't get it, well," he stood, brushing the creases out of his coat with one hand, rings jingling in the other. "I certainly hope your children like dogs, as our next meeting will be a house call."
Jerome winced and whimpered pitifully. His cigar lay on the floor, the smoldering extinguished by his own blood. "Okay, okay," he sobbed.
"There's a god lad. You have a nice day now." and he started to walk, Lightning in tow as always. "Come along then," he said to her over his shoulder. "We've still got work to do."
And there was, at least four more meetings just like this one. But for now they were on their way to see an antiques dealer.
(II)
The sounds of the harbor bounced off the hard aluminum siding of the storage building, seagulls wailing, the ripple and splash of the choppy waters, and the hum of heavy machinery a couple complexes over. The massive steel doors were rolled up onto their metal spools and let the mid day sunlight in. Everything seemed gray, the concrete floor seeming to stretch on forever beneath the shadow of the bird-shit dappled roof.
Fang had her arms crossed over her chest, slowly walking the place and looking about. Sazh and the other two officers weren't too far away, in other corners of the vacuous space. She kept looking back to the barrier of neon yellow police tape that surrounded the large opening in the floor. The chief wasn't lying when he said it resembled some of their other cases. It was a large rectangular opening, about twelve feet deep and with the now copper stains all over the inside of it. Already she was contemplating stepping down into it, having the faintest hunch she would find something the other investigators might have missed. She had a habit of that. Though she was also considering that to be the last thing she checked. There was too much ground otherwise before focusing on just that.
Fang had a routine, and once she felt comfortable and fully aware of what she was looking at, she settled into it. She started at the threshold of one of the large entryways and started walking along the hem of the walls, taking very close looks at the seams, where metal met cement. She would stop systematically, crouching down and touching, feeling around any tiny spaces or cracks, half expecting to come upon something. Anything. But there was nothing of note to be found by the time she found herself where she started.
"You come up empty too?" Sazh asked as he stood behind her, lifting his brow quizzically when she straightened and looked at him.
"Unless balls of lint counts for something. Oh, and I found some rat shit too." she laughed cynically. Fang then put her fists on her hips and took a deep breath. Both of them were looking at the same thing now. "You wanna go in or should I?"
"I'm too old to be jumpin' in holes. Might break a hip."
"At last you admit it." she nodded with a particular smirk. "Still got that tow cable in the trunk?"
"I do."
"Best get it hitched up then." she shrugged. "Where the hell did Owens get off to?"
"Broke away for lunch, he said." Sazh answered as he started back towards his car.
"Figures." and she shook her head. They would have to wait for the others to get back before they could go anywhere.
Sazh pulled the car into the building, letting it coast within a few feet of the police tape before putting it in park. Before he got out he pulled the lever by the steering column to release the trunk. It popped up, Fang grabbing the lip of it and helping herself to what lay inside. The cable was a twenty foot coil of braided steel fibers with a chunk of metal fashioned to a hook on both ends. Together they hefted it to the front of the car, dropping it there and hooking one end to the front axle, and tossing the other end beneath the tape and into the pit. There was an echoing CHAM as steel met cement.
Fang took off her blazer and laid it across the hood and tucked her badge down the collar of her shirt. Then she rolled up her sleeves as she stepped across the yellow plastic and crouched down.
"If I'm not back in ten minutes-,"
"I'll just wait longer." he nodded knowingly, having heard this schtick before. "Get your pasty ass down there already."
"I'm goin', I'm goin'." and she smiled all the way down.
Fang allowed herself to fall the last stretch of footage, landing gracefully on her feet with a slight bend of her knees on impact. She stood straight, looking up. "Oi, can ya toss a torch down here?"
And within seconds she could see Sazh leaning over the edge, a flashlight in his hand, gesturing he was about to drop it. Down it came and into her hands.
The old bloodstains stood out in the light with a dull morbidity. It was appearing all too familiar. The task force had found more than a dozen such pits, all of them stained this way, some worse than others. Though all of them were hard to look at. And down here, like up there, Fang went about her routine of checking all the tiny places she could reach, particularly those within the blood spatter. She started in the lowest creases of the space and then worked her way up. She paused at one of the large copper stains.
"Think I got something,"
"Two minutes...new record."
"Praise me later. Grab me a couple baggies, would ya? And that thing of Post-it's." she meant the small plastic bags most task force officers kept on them to keep any evidence they found on duty. Her request was fulfilled in no time at all.
"What is it?"
"...Looks like hair," she said after a moment, just before pinching the butt of the flashlight between her teeth to free up her hands and still have the light she needed to see properly. "How could they miss this,"
She used the adhesive side of a pulled Post-it to lift the fibers from the concrete, some flecks of dried blood coming with it. She stuffed it in the little bag and folded it carefully before sliding it into her back pocket. Driven more now than only moments ago, Fang continued her search, beginning to wonder if the forensic department was either getting lazy or just plain stupid.
Fang would spend the next hour combing over the pit, finding very little else that piqued her concern. After that, she stood in the middle of it, fists on her hips, and shrugged heavily. She shook her head too.
She tipped back her head, "Owens back yet?"
"Not that I know of." her partner replied.
"Gonna strangle that wiggler." and she wanted to. He was never back from his lunch break on time. With a tight jaw she went to grab the tow cable, starting up the wall to pull herself out. Sazh was at the top to meet her, taking her hand and helping her onto solid ground. The two gathered the cable and lugged it back into the trunk.
"I'm gonna walk the outside." she said, gathering up her blazer to fold over one arm.
"You do that," he nodded. "I'll make a few phone calls." now was a good time to touch base with the other officers. Maybe they'd found something.
The wind coming in from the bay was against he now, pushing her wild hair all around her face as she walked around the building, hands in her pockets and eyes to the pavement. She would find the usual suspects, more bird shit, chewed gum pressed into odd puddles on the concrete, nothing out of the ordinary. Though she looked, and it would take an act of the gods for her not to find anything.
Some of the edges of the heavy duty aluminum had curled up, be it from vandalism or natural causes, and Fang would crouch down and take a closer gander when she came across them. And as thorough as she was, she wouldn't come across anything of note until she reached the far side, almost back where she started from. It was the facade of the structure that faced what could be considered the parking lot, a large span of pavement. Just at the edge of the first entryway.
"Hello," she mused with interest. Fang bent her knees, keeping her balance on one hand as she lowered herself.
Looked like a pair of pills, little white ones, and one of them half crushed. The powder that had to have been left after had been blown away by the sea side winds. Fang withdrew a pair of small bags from her pocket, putting the whole tablet in one, and the broken one in the other. The complete capsule she put in her blazer, and the partial went right beside the hair sample.
The guys down at the lab had a bad habit of losing track of things. She would hang on to some of this evidence, you know, just in case.
"Find anything else?" Sazh was now standing just behind her, apparently having finished with his phone conversations.
"Would you be surprised if I had?"
"Not really, no," he laughed a little. "So what is it?"
"Some kind of medication," Fang explained as she stood, pressing on her thighs. "Looks like aspirin to me, but we'll know for sure once the lab gets it." If they can hold on to it long enough.
"Any idea as to what it could be?"
"It could be PCP for all I know." and Fang scowled at the idea of all the crap going about on the street nowadays. It really could be anything, or even nothing at all. It could even be a placebo. "Wanna test it?"
"Hell no," and Sazh shook his head when he noticed her sudden smirk. "So what now?"
"I guess we could go speak with the harbor master, though I doubt he'll know anything. I'd be willing to bet my wisdom teeth that this place was locked up when this mess was made."
"You're probably right. But don't places like these usually have security cameras?"
"I would think so." Fang pulled her blazer back on and revealed her badge from her shirt. "Let's move along then."
"What about Owens?"
"He can suck a sewage pipe for all I care. I got better things to do than wait on his lazy ass, like my job."
"Well said." and she was right of course.
(III)
Lightning always guarded her food when she ate. But that was all right, it's what Cid wanted. All of her behaviors were of his making, even those that were looked down on in real dogs. It was actually kind of amusing to watch; huddled in a corner of her crate with the metal bowl full of super-nutritious dog slop pressed to her chest and shoveling it down by the handfuls. It was entertaining. Though, he would admit, he didn't like how she would tense and glare at him if he took one too many steps towards her while she ate. He really didn't like it. It gave him the idea that...
Lightning could bite him if he tempted to take what she perceived to be hers.
But it wasn't a worry for him. Cid wasn't that stupid. In any case, it gave him a contradictory sense of confidence. Confidence in her ferocity. Not that he needed the reassurance.
When Lightning had finished, the bowl empty, she set it aside, remaining still to patiently wait for Cid to take it away as always. And he did just that, laughing to himself at the sight of the bowl being bone dry. How anything other than an actual dog could stomach that flavorless sludge was beyond him. He started for the door, pausing just as he grabbed the heavy steel handle. He half turned and called to Lightning, making sure he had her undivided attention before giving the command to "Work."
And that was very clear, and once Cid was gone Lightning did as he said. She emerged from her cage with a lackluster expression of intent, eyes firm but seemingly dim with the boredom of repetition. Lightning stretched her neck and shoulders, her arms, and then jumped to grab the steel bar that was raised some five or six feet from the ground. And she did chin-ups. Dozens, even hundreds of them until she could do no more. She dropped to her feet and went on to the next portion of her daily work out. The treadmill.
Cid had it arranged simply, not having grand expectations for his dog as far as brains go. All Lightning had to do was hit a button and the machine started into a particular regimen. It began at a steady speed, no more than a jog, and worked its way up to a grueling seven minute sprint. Not that it was difficult for her, mind you. She'd been doing it for years, it was like a stroll in the park now.
With that completed, sweat rolling down her reddened face, she went on to the next set. And it went like this for the next hour or so. Chin-ups, running, free weights, hanging bag, and the circuit repeated in this fashion typically three to four times daily. With the exception of Sunday. The day after a fight was allotted for her to rest, recover if needed.
When Lightning was simply unable to continue, she would wait. Cid would be around shortly to give her some water and a bath. And by a bath I mean a solid spray down with a hose, enough of which to keep her from stinking with sweat. The water was always cold, something she didn't like but never dared to say so aloud.
Dogs don't talk back to master. They don't talk to master at all. They simply do as they're told.
It had always been this way, and it was never going to change.
The afternoon had lulled into evening by the time Cid had her cleaned up and dried off. He decided to put her to bed early, giving her the command though the timer on the cage's lock wouldn't trigger for another couple of hours.
With the dog down for the night Cid casually returned to his manor, the older, more elegant structure that was nestled atop the storage room that kept Lightning hidden. It was one of the oldest residences in Eden City, easily four stories high, and right on the corner up the street from a police station. It had a weathered stone facade, lion statues at the gate, and big wrought iron handles on the hardwood double doors at the entrance. It was a fancy place, doubly so on the inside, a home very few could afford. And Cid Raines was at the very top of those privileged few.
He went in through the back door as always when he was returning from below, and a secluded hallway greeted him. It led him to emerge on the ground floor of the manor, onto polished hardwood floors and animal skin rugs. Cid Raines did enjoy his finery, let me tell you. His father, Cid Raines Sr., had been an avid hunter, and much of the house was decorated with his trophies. The Raines patriarch before him was an art collector, thus there were tapestries and paintings and other oddities galore about the rest of the house.
Cid was a collector in his own right, mind you. First his prized objects were books, first editions if he could find them. His library was large even by city standards. But that fell out of his favor after a few years. That was when he started on dog breeding, actual dogs that is. He found it a natural endeavor and amassed quite the bit of scratch through it. He enjoyed it to the point of aligning a division of his company solely towards veterinary pursuits. But once he grew tired of that, having found something else -that something you're all very well aware of- he sold the controlling shares to the manager.
Up the winding staircase he moseyed to the second floor, one hand in his pocket as he aimed for his study. He met with his elderly butler, Mannheim, as he reached the door, who paused for but a minute to tell his employer of the impending readiness of dinner. To which Cid only nodded gratefully before disappearing behind the door.
The leather of his favorite chair groaned under his weight, and one wheel on the legs screeched as he pushed himself closer to his desk. The press of one finger turned on his desktop computer, and he waited patiently to put in his password and go about his usual evening routine. He would check the world news, the stock market, the company's daily product reports...the rudimentary things all business moguls seem so obsessed with.
While perusing through an article about some sort of hurricane crisis abroad, his cell phone rang. Or, more so, buzzed as it rested near his hand. The number was not listed, but he answered it all the same. Someone who indulged in activities as he did didn't save certain numbers.
"Raines speaking." he greeted casually.
"Cid, good evening,"
"Ms. Nabaat, what a surprise." Cid rolled his eyes, not amused in the least. "Something I can do for you?"
"Maybe, maybe not." came that sickeningly sweet voice on the other end. "I was wondering if you would be willing to meet some time and talk a little business."
"Just what business are you referring to?" he didn't like the sound of it very much. Jihl wasn't a businesswomen, not by any stretch though her family was deeply rooted in the precious stones industry. And she was about as subtle as a cow with Turret's. "I own so many."
"That you do. But I'd love to pick your brain about your media sector. I've finally convinced daddy to get his fingers on some television spots to advertise for the company."
Jihl Nabaat's father was Galenth Dysley, though she took her mother's name. He was Cid's only real competition in the corporate arena. Though that wasn't what he noticed most. Jihl had used a certain phrase that typically only owners of dogs used when they wanted to discuss the fights.
Pick your brain. Simple, innocent, and those out of the loop were none the wiser.
"I suppose it couldn't hurt. Time and place?"
"What about tonight?"
"No, no, sorry, I'm about to sit down to dinner, actually." which was true, but he would have said it anyhow.
"Oh, well how about Friday night then? About seven thirty?"
"Very well," he nodded, though he was threatening to roll his eyes again. He was only humoring her really. "Where?"
"Why don't you choose?" and she laughed, a nigh on sadistic little giggle.
"Awfully generous of you," Cid lounged in his chair, thinking a moment. "Why not the Banori Grill over on Crenshaw and Ninth?"
"Sounds wonderful. My treat."
"Heavens no, my father would roll over in his grave if I let a woman buy me dinner. Consider it a gesture of good faith."
"Have it your way. I'll see you then." and there was a click on the other end, signifying her having hung up.
Cid gagged loudly as he set the phone down and went back to his news.
(IV)
It was late, some time after eleven, and rain was pouring down over the harbor on its route inland. Fang and Sazh listened to the weather on the radio through a haze of static, both of them cringing at the news that it was going to rain off and on like this all week. Heavy drops of frigid water pounded the roof of the car and cascaded in waves over the windshield.
"Have I told you how much I didn't want to be here?" Fang grumbled, her arms crossed as she lounged in her seat.
"At least three times." Sazh was working a crossword puzzle, bearing on the steering wheel and trying not to honk to horn. The harbor's security lights had come on, so he didn't have trouble seeing as the halogen glow came right through the window. "Don't suppose you'll tell me again?"
"Nah, the night's still young, wouldn't want to irritate the piss outta ya too soon."
"You're so kind. Got a four letter word for nuisance?"
"Pest." though she had a feeling he was aiming to pull a joke at her expense with that one, as he shook his head when he realized how valid her answer really was.
And it was quiet a while, at least, as quiet as it could be with the first few peals of thunder rolling outside. The wind whistled and moaned, the water tumbling down through it.
"Least we don't gotta walk about out there."
"Hmm," Sazh nodded, crossing off another word. "I honestly can't tell you what we're supposed to be lookin' out here for."
"Me neither. Still...it's hours." she said in passing, putting her hands behind her head. "More vacation time for yours truly."
"Like you'd ever take it."
"I have every intention of taking it." she defended with her eyes closed as if she were settling in for a nap. Less than convincing to be sure.
"When? You haven't taken one since you joined the force." and he gave her a certain look, one that called her bluff, cried "bullshit".
"When I'm damn good and ready, if you must know. Don't want to waste it going by myself, and I haven't found anybody worth takin' it with."
"What about your sister? You guys don't seem to spend much time together anymore,"
"Listen, there's a home for your nose and it ain't in my business. Anyway, she's got school to worry about."
"Almost forgot." he nodded. "Well, don't you have a boyfriend? That...that Jeremy guy?"
Fang laughed a little. "We broke up two years ago. He's even married now...with a kid I've heard."
"Oh...well...never mind then."
"Like I said, watch your nose." and she nodded with smug satisfaction.
And the quiet settle in again.
Fang's mind began to whirl with questions and inquiries. A lot of things she had asked herself before but still had no answer for.
Why did it seem like the folks at Forensics were about as useful as a fart in a windstorm? Why did they always miss things that were practically right in front of them? Honestly, Mahoney could have found some of the crap she had stumbled across going in after those cluster-fucks.
And it wasn't just that.
Fang was anxious to figure out what the pills were. Maybe, if it were something particular, they could cross reference anyone who took the prescription and finally make an arrest. Or, at the very least, bring someone in for questioning. Since the formation of the task force some six months ago, Fang became accustomed to the feeling that the whole lot of them were just jerking off.
But she couldn't quit. Good cops don't quit.
Long before she put on the badge the dog fights were going on, but that was before the...sport had evolved. It wasn't until after her second year that the first body was discovered. Well, what was left of it. It was partially decomposed, but what parts were still intact told a gruesome story of bodily harm. Then the newspapers were screaming about it by the end of the week.
At the time there was so little evidence that there wasn't much the E.P.D. could do but wait. Then, about half a year ago -roughly seven years later- the mayor demanded the task force be made an active unit in the department.
Fang only vaguely recalled her feelings upon seeing the body. It was some years ago and she was already a steady drinker by then. Drinker, not alcoholic.
All she knew for fact was that she wanted to do whatever it took to keep that from happening again. It was a fire in her gut that burned hotter than the liquor down her throat. It became a quiet, but personal crusade.
Though it wasn't nearly as easy to explain why she took this assignment so seriously. But that's for later.
"You're not dozing off on me already, are ya?"
"Huh? Nah," Fang protested just before she yawned. "It ain't even midnight and I'm somewhat sober. I'll be damned if I'm sleepy. Got the munchies, though."
"What, you huffin' the green too?"
"Christ no, that shit's illegal." momentary lapse of topic. "What about you, you hungry?"
"I could stand to chew on somethin'." he nodded, still absorbed in his word puzzle.
"Well, there's a bag of Jolly Ranchers under the seat...though I'll admit I ate most of them. Left you the grape and watermelon ones."
Sazh laughed, knowing she was dead serious.
"How about the Doughnut Truck?"
He shrugged, "When are you gonna let that stereotype die?"
"But you said ya liked the grape and watermelon ones!"
"Not that...okay, that too, but, I mean the whole 'cops and doughnuts' thing."
"Can't help myself. Besides, it isn't a stereotype if it's true."
"True. Still, the Doughnut Truck doesn't stop around here, you know that."
"The hell it doesn't. If fact it," she leaned forward in her seat, squinting to try and see through the fogged window on the far side of her partner. "There it is."
"Bullshit," Sazh lifted his head, a sharp snap to attention, and he refused to believe that he could see the pink neon glow of lights blurred on the other side. "I say again, bullshit."
"Oh hush ya yap or I won't get you any. I'll be back in a tick." and out Fang went into the rain without even a fold of newspaper to help keep her dry.
Sazh was shaking his head the entire time she was gone, swearing under his breath as he pressed the pen hard into the paper of the crossword. He swore under his breath. How in the hell did she always know where that damn truck was going to be? Without fail she could call it, like a preordained urban miracle.
The passenger side door squeaked and then slammed shut again, the squeal of wet cloth on upholstery just as loud as Fang settle back into the seat. She was thoroughly soaked, but that didn't seem to be a detail of importance when the interior of the vehicle began to smell like fresh doughnuts. Deep fried heaven.
I don't know about you readers, but my arteries are crying with joy. And by joy I mean caloric terror.
Sazh put the puzzle down as he took a deep breath through his nose. "Mmmm," came a drawn out groan. "What kind did you get?"
"Just a variety box." she smirked knowingly.
"Is there a maple bacon one in there?"
"Maybe," and Fang clutched the box closer, as if to ward him off. Then she flipped open the lid to reveal the confectionery treasures inside. "Go on, before you go off in ya pants."
"Hush yer hole." he protested, reaching with his fingers like pincers to snatch one of the dozen cake circles. "Oh yeah," and he had selected the exact one he had inquired about. "Smells like breakfast."
"And yet it's the middle of the night," she giggled, fishing through the treats for her own personal favorite. It would be covered in powdered cinnamon and have apple cider as part of the batter recipe.
"Hey, it's eight A.M. somewhere."
She gawked at him. "You get up at eight A.M.?" Personally, it was a tradition for Fang to not even dream of opening an eyelid until after nine. Unless, of course, duty called.
"That cotton don't pick itself."
For a long moment Fang only watched him, gaping as he ate his doughnut without so much as a flinch in regards to what he said. Then all she could do was laugh.
"I can't believe you," she almost couldn't catch her breath enough to eat.
Sazh only grinned knowingly.
"Can I use that sometime?"
"No."
"You're no fun," she pouted as she brushed her sodden hair back. "Why not?"
"'Cause you're ruinin' my fine interior with you wet rump. Now hush up and eat before I don't leave you any."
"I'll cut you, Katzroy, I swear I will." and the officer held the box that much closer to her, defensive of any attempt to snatch them away.
(-)
Across the city and in the darkened underneath of Raines Manor, the dog drifted between asleep and awake, just able to hear the pounding rain and rolling thunder. She lay quiet in the dark, clutching her blanket as always, and she dreamed.
Lightning dreamed, while both asleep or awake, though you wouldn't know it if you looked at her. Though her gaze always appeared so fixed yet so distant, she dreamed of the sunshine. Of how warm it was on her skin during the brief moments in its glow, and she dreamed of the breeze coming in from the north. Cool during this time of year.
Lightning dreamed of the outside world, as grand and wild as it seemed to be.
She dreamed of life outside of a cage, dreamed of someday having such a life.
And if the master ever found out, he would be sorely displeased.
Author's Note:This is moving just a tit slower than I hoped it would, but I'm still on schedule considering this is week two working on this fic and chapter two is already finished. Now it's off to chapter three. Some of you will have to forgive the pace, as I'm trying to build an alternate universe and flesh out a believable drama. The rest of you will have to forgive the voice of this story as I have no intention of changing it to spare anyone's feelings. If jokes of a certain color chap your ass, then go read something else. And be sure to keep your whining about said jokes to yourself as you'd just be wasting you time telling me about it. Otherwise, if you fall in that most previous category, and have no grievances to speak of, I will see you again soon.