A yelp echoed out through the early dawn. Several trash cans tilted over, spilling their contents into the street. A trail of red splashed against the ground and over a set of teeth.

Courage was in pain. His paw was held to his cheek, where a large, shallow gash now oozed blood, seeping heat against the dark purple-black of his pad, and his legs shuddered and ached as they desperately carried him forward and away from the danger that lurked behind him; the howls and snarls of a pack of dobermans that towered over the pink dog's diminutive form.

He hadn't meant to end up in such a dark, horribly dismal part of town so close to The Wrong Side, much less one controlled by the remnants of Mad Dog's gang after their boss had been hit by a train. A train he'd swerved the gangster into. And yet now here he was, having had a narrow escape from the muscle-bound dogs' gnashing teeth, the result of which had still left the wound he was trying to stop bleeding so desperately. That feeling of terror was there again, more intense than ever, but there was also the feeling of adrenaline pumping through his veins, pushing him further from the sinister sounds of the mobster hounds. He had to stop the bleeding somehow, otherwise they'd be able to track him all over town, but all he could do was desperately put pressure on the aching wound and hope the trail would go cold without him spilling his life-giving fluid everywhere.

He ducked around a corner, and then another, and a third, his ears twitching, tilting behind him as he listened to the sounds of the other, larger canines following him, thankful that he could hear their deep sniffing as they trailed his blood. If they'd have been any quieter he'd have been concerned he wouldn't have heard them until they were breathing down his neck; and then he would have been completely doomed.

And yet, despite the dire straits, Courage's mind wasn't really set on himself outside of staunching his wound. Not really. He was still far more concerned for Muriel, and imagining the tragedy of her having to see his mangled body after the canine mob got their jaws on him pushed him forward even more than the adrenal rush did. He wouldn't make her have to see his carcasse. He refused adamantly to put her through such a thing.

Gritting his teeth, he headed further through the winding back-end of town with almost no clue how he had gotten here to begin with, tears stinging at his eyes. He let said eyes dart around as though possessed, searching for anything, anything at all that could potentially help him in any manner as he moved aimlessly, still cradling his wounded jaw in his paw, staining his pads and the fur around them with the ruby red of his sanguine. It was a color he quickly and rather humorously, if also morbidly, decided didn't match the tone of his pink coat remotely.

He needed to stop soon to catch his breath, but where was there to hide? They knew this part of town far better than he did. He was certainly smaller than they were, so maybe he could find somewhere to squeeze into? But they were gangsters; they were likely carrying all sorts of nasty things that Courage most definitely wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of. If he wasn't fearing for his life (mostly for Muriel's sake) at the moment, he'd likely have had another panic attack, that familiar aching from twice prior gnashing away in the background of his mind.

He passed by another alleyway, eyes squinting slightly to stare down it, before turning his head back around to check the status of his stalkers. He could still hear them but not see them, which was a good sign regardless of the blood trail he was leaving (itself thankfully beginning to let up), and so he slinked down into the alley as quietly as he could. He followed the path as quickly as his hindpaws could muster whilst trying to keep the tapping of his claws against the ground to a minimum, fully aware the canine gangsters' hearing was as good as, if not better than, his own. He almost felt like a wild animal being preyed upon, and he had nowhere to go or hide from his predators.

And to make matters worse, he'd happened to have walked into an alley that had no back entrance.

That panic immediately returned in full force, his paw subconsciously gripping harder at his wounded cheek, his pupils narrowing and constricting despite the darkness of the general area. He twisted his body around, ears twitching and listening closely. Intently. He needed to get out of here, but what if they were already rounding the corner? He'd barely got away the first time, and this place would have had no way out other than through them. He needed to leave though, that much was certain, and come Hell or high water, he needed to get to Muriel.

Of course, that was easier said than done when he had no real clue where in Nowhere he was and he had a gang chasing him for revenge. He had pretty much only a single thought running in his mind at the moment, and it was to the effect of 'What'll I do? What'll I do?'

That was, at least, until he heard a rumbling snarl not even 80 feet back toward the entrance of this one-way alley. He wanted to scream, but clamped his snout shut with his other paw, letting the sound reverberate through his own body instead as he did the only thing he could think to do; diving into the nearby trashcan and hiding himself under whatever junk was in there.

It stunk, of course, full of all different types of filth (including several moldy banana peels that smelled of death to Courage's sensitive nose), and he barely even fit inside it, trying his best to control his shivers inside the can. With his cheek how it was he was also concerned about getting an infection or the like from his literal dumpster dive, but that was secondary to getting away from the gangsters currently not even half a street's distance from his location.

And then he heard their pawsteps close by, and those growls and sniffs were far, far louder.

He felt like his heart was going to give out at any second, and the shuddering of his body was slowly getting worse, both from fright and the terrible odor of decay and garbage that invaded his nostrils, his nose crumpling from the offensive scent. Both equally made him want to puke too, a deep sickness churning up through his stomach and causing him to nearly retch, a gag he barely held back on invading his throat. Why was nothing ever easy for him?

He held his breath as best he could, fighting against the rattling of his own body and his every urge to empty the contents of his stomach, and continued to listen, ears tilting and swivelling like radars.

SLAM!

He almost jumped out of his own skin as he heard the trash can next to him hit the ground, and that panic gnawing inside his gut metamorphosed into sheer terror at the realisation they were checking the cans, his pulse accelerating even further than he'd ever thought possible for his heart to be able to handle.

Was this the way he was going to go out? Mauled by criminals whilst looking for his owner? After everything he'd gone through?

Courage didn't have long to think about it before he felt his shelter tilt over, and his body slid out onto the street. Right in front of several very angry-looking canines. He screamed, as anyone would, his eyes almost bulging out his head as he let out the sound, slamming his eyelids shut in fear. 'Oh, Muriel… I'm so sorry…' were what he thought his last thoughts were going to be.

But… no pain came. No feeling of any further injuries (outside of his now-sore rump from skidding across the floor).

Then he heard a yelp akin to his own, if not even more pathetic-sounding, and the firing of a weapon of some kind, followed by more yelps and loud thumps.

Slowly, he cracked open his right eye, peering about and seeing several of the dog gang fleeing from… something. Something that was letting off a very noticeable hum.

A hum Courage recognized. Almost too well, in fact.

His eyes opened fully, and immediately his fear melted away into a crooked, almost-embarrassed looking semi-smile as he got a full visual of the sole one of the gang members left staring down at him, their body wreathed in a blue glow and their fur stained an ultraviolet, cyan eyes staring down at the pink dog with an expression of agitation rather than that 'I want to maul you' level anger.

"Computer…?" Was the first word out of Courage's mouth.

The first out of the much larger dog's snout confirmed it immediately, if the deadpan British accent wasn't enough of a giveaway;

"You Twit! How did you get all the way out here? Here I thought you were coming to see your Muriel and yet I find you being savaged by a group of lowlifes. I even had to defile myself by taking over one of these spineless insects."

Before Courage could even respond (and respond he definitely wanted to), he was being picked up like a doll by the possessed gangster. Even controlled by Computer, there was an extremely menacing to the burly canine, what with their jaw full of teeth the size of kitchen knives and the general sneer-like structure of their face, made no better by the ethereal glow that highlighted each grotesque detail and amplified the shadow lurking in every crease and fold of the doberman's fur.

Courage could only shudder in response to the view, being carried like wet washing toward the exit of the alley again, still holding on to his bleeding cheek as best he could (and still trying, emphasis on trying, to ignore the absolutely wretched scent of garbage that clung to his body). Again that lament reared up in his thoughts; 'Why is nothing ever made easy for me?'

He was quickly snapped out of it by Computer huffing, though, the gangster's possessed eye rolling to glance at the pink dog again, still as annoyed-looking as ever, Courage feeling the body jerk downward as Computer lifted his own empty, lifeless monitor off the ground nearby. "Can you not read a map, Twit? You're lucky they're all brawn and no brain, otherwise I might not have been able to pick one off in time."

Courage flushed from embarrassment, his amethyst eyes darting to the side, unable to look into that glowing blue sphere that was boring a hole in him. He hadn't realised how easy it was to get turned around in Nowhere's backstreets, having spent all his life pretty much seeing the town through the window of the Farmer's truck, save for a scarce few moments that he barely recalled. "How did you know where to find me?"

"Hm?"

"How did you know?"

Courage tilted his head slightly, giving Computer a curious look that tried to cover up the embarrassment he was still feeling, staring as best he could into the eye that the living machine was… 'borrowing.' "And how did you chase off all of Mad Dog's gang…?"

Computer almost laughed at the question in response, a smug sneer growing on his face (and revealing those dagger-like teeth again) as he turned his head slightly. "Those snivelling snails turned and ran the moment they saw me take over this worthless sack of meat. It seems their penchant for violence isn't enough to escape the fact they're still cowardly little flesh-creatures."

"But I heard someone fire a gun or something, and a lotta people getting smacked about!" Courage replied, his brow furrowing slightly as he tilted his head further, waiting to hear how the discrepancies between Computer's events and what he heard added up. This seemed only to further the PC's urge to let out a snicker though. "Well yes, they fired at me whilst running away like the frightened puppies they are. Their aim is… exceedingly terrible, though. They probably carry their weapons more for intimidation. As for the other assorted sounds, they were all but trampling each other to get out of here."

Courage could only imagine the sight, if what Computer had said was true (which why would he lie?), of the huge, muscle-bound mobsters running in terror from a computer screen with legs, and it was every bit as magical as he possibly could conjure. It suddenly made the dobers much less frightening, and he couldn't help but laugh a little himself, as much as it made the gash in his cheek ache, resting himself against the side of the possessed larger dog.

The pair walked in silence for a few moments, their only company beside each other being the heavy, plodding footsteps of Computer's current 'host' and the hum that crackled all around him at a consistent level. Courage almost started to doze off to the noise-adjacent sound before Computer stopped and placed him down, sitting his monitor down beside the pink pooch too. He grabbed one of the inert tentacle-things that snaked from his true self, lifting it and jamming it into the back of the doberman's neck, just under the skull. "Now then, we have a few moments in which my 'generous host' here-" Courage noted the extremely sarcastic venom that coated those two words, "-will be confused and dazed from the transfer. We can be off before he even realizes who, when or where he is."

The pink dog simply nodded. It sounded like a simple-enough plan, though maybe 'run away while he's confused' wasn't really a plan, per se.

Regardless, Courage watched as Computer returned to his rightful body, the blue glow, purple fur and electrical hum fading from the doberman gangster within moments as the PC flickered back to life, that familiar blue-green glow returning to its screen as the machine's conscience transferred back.

And as soon as that claw detached, Computer was already scurrying off, causing Courage to let out a "Hey!" as he set off after the spider-like monitor, having to nearly go into a full-blown sprint to keep pace. Luckily for Courage it wasn't a very long run, as Computer slowed considerably after a few moments, tilting to face the out-of-breath pink dog. "Aren't you dogs meant to be able to run for miles, Twit?"

It was a simple question, but Computer had a way to make even the most benign statements sound snide and condescending to the point of it being almost a talent, which was definitely helped by the machine's rather snobbish British accent (Courage still wondered why his accent WAS British) but Courage had put up with the machine enough to have developed his own level of sass, and simply patted his rounded belly with a cheeky grin. "Too much good food." was all he stated.

He knew Computer would have rolled his eyes if he had any, the machine turning and beginning to clunk off again, keeping the slower pace now they'd left the lone mobster a few streets back and letting Courage follow much easier.

The two conversed for a short while, talking about how their trips were getting to town (with Courage omitting the whole 'panic attack' thing) in that back-and-forth bantery friendship sort of way they had between each other as they made their way back out of the alleyways, Computer taking charge of their path this time (clearly directions were something Courage was no good at, the machine was almost tempted to say) as he guided the dig back out of the alleys and the grim, industrial part of Nowhere, the pair emerging out onto the main road, where tendrils of sunlight were now inching their way across the concrete and dust with the continuing rise of the sun.

The route to get to the hospital (again, in Computer's case) didn't take much longer after that, and Courage felt embarrassed once again, even more than earlier, upon realising he'd simply taken a wrong turn by complete freak accident and somehow had managed to border the entire hospital nearly.

It was then he realised something, and turned to Computer with an expression somewhere between confusion and dawning frustration. "I've been in the hospital plenty of times!"

The machine regarded the dog with a slight tilt, displaying a question mark on his monitor as he did so, prompting Courage to continue speaking. "You said earlier that hospitals only allow service dogs! But I've been here a lot over the years!" he huffed, placing his paws on his hips and giving the machine the most irritated expression he thought he'd ever seen the pink dog have. "And you didn't correct me because…?" Came the response from the cynical computer, who turned to fully face the dog at this point. "Because I was worried! I wasn't thinking straight!"

"I don't see how that's my fault, Twit. Regardless, you're here now, aren't you?"

Courage leered at Computer's response, before sighing softly, shaking his head and bringing another wince to his face as the cut across his cheek ached again. Arguments between the pair of them never really lasted long enough to escalate, thankfully. "Yeah, yeah, I guess I am. Though how are you gonna get in?"

It was Computer's turn to think now.

There was no way he could ever disguise himself as human, that much was certain, as much as it was a very tempting idea if only to see just how stupid and ignorant the rest of the people of Nowhere were, considering his minute sample size of only the Bagges wasn't really conclusive evidence. He could hijack a human again, but that would require some extra steps (and a bit of hope that it was somebody all on their lonesome with nobody else to witness it). Pretending to be a regular PC? Why would a dog be carrying around a desktop?

Wait…

Dog…

He had a perfectly good plan, after all, and it was bouncing paw-to-paw right beside him.

"Say, Twit. You want us both in there, right?" The machine began, his deadpan-as-usual voice obscuring any sort of intent Courage could try to glean from it. The dog slowly nodded though, ears tilted upward to full attentiveness. "You've done stranger things, so this should be no effort to you; I could take over your body for a short while. It would be no different from the alien ducks."

A.N;

Shenanigans are about to ensue. Shenanigans and tomfoolery.

Also, I have quite the extensive backstories planned for both Courage and Computer, this isn't spur of the moment.