The whimpering was apparent from far away, but as Otto took the necessary steps to the site of his prisoner, it's loud echoes seemed only to grow louder. He took a moment to watch Roman padding along, no indication on the old dog's face that he had even so much as heard the same chaotic cries that were ringing out from so far away.

Joining those cries of agony were cries of a savage nature, the sort of which he liked to observe from a far and on the odd occasion, find fantasy in partaking in such a nature. Great as the temptation was, he held back, always reasoning that he would burn his own reputation were he to fall into it rather than have the Lord forgive it.

"Roman?" Otto said, the curious tone in his voice enough to grind himself and the older dog to a halt.

"Boss," Roman regarded him as he always did. It was odd, when he first took the place of his father, he supposed that Roman would begin to treat him as though he were his father. Compassion was not something that he liked to to believe his personal commando capable of, but there was always something for as long as he could remember. The softness behind every action, even when the first Otto had always demanded something more. Something less friendly, something that would teach his son the rules of the business and the harsh attitudes of the real world. Perhaps it was only out of loyalty, but Roman had never wanted that for him, always sheltering him. Even now he was sheltered. Were it not by his own command, Otto figured that he would not have even been offered the chance to see the goons that worked under him in action.

"What is it like to take a life?" he asked after quite a moment of contemplation.

"Simple. Cold. Disconnected," Roman answered without skipping a beat. It was as unsatisfactory and shallow as the question had been, but he knew there were ways to drag more from the dog that had essentially been his caretaker all his life.

Pursing his lips in thought, Otto elaborated, "Was it always like that for you? I asked one of the guards and he said that he killed once before. He said that it felt right, as though he was satisfying some part of himself that was hidden away beneath the surface. According to him, it felt more than killing a rat, because a fellow canine is more than a rat. Another dog is that which could kill you as well."

At some point during his explanation, Roman had turned to regard him with a more touching expression. It would be difficult for most to notice any sort of shift, but Otto was prone at finding the subtle. Easily able to pick up on the gentle curve that grew under his eyes and the frown that crept from the corners of his muzzle. He expected an answer to follow, even were it to be another blunt and ambiguous answer, he supposed that there was still more that could be done. When nothing did come, he found himself lost, staring into those emotionally indistinct, possibly disapproving eyes.

"What would you do if I said that I wanted to take a life for my own?"

Otto blurted the question before he could stop himself. There he was, buying back into his temptations, giving way to the savage nature which would bite and maul his reputation. It was not right and it was not the image for which he had always been taught to strive for. It was just his luck that Roman was by his side, the old dog would never agree to such a profound-"

"I would grant you that wish."

There was still nothing to say of Roman's expression, tone or body language. A startling contrast to Otto, who's jaw dropped at the same time that a strange mix of a yelp and a bark left his mouth. He tried to make more sense of the situation, tried to drown out the noise of the whimpering and cheers with his own disbelief, failing miserably given how overwhelmed he felt. As monumental as the agreement was, Roman hardly acknowledged his surprise, only making to turn the other way and keep them moving onto their destination.

He supposed that it did make sense. No words needed to be traded when the matter was as simple as it was. He who should ask, shall recieve and in the finite end, Roman was his to ask, loyal to that very end. Still, he had expected some sort of push back to his proposal especially given that it had not come with any sort of sound argument. For Roman, the very dog that had for years sheltered him, to agree so easily to something as brutal as his fantasy, was as bizarre as his world had ever been.

In that instance, Otto felt a strange feeling of attachment to the older dog. Not attachment in the way of a mother and her puppy, but rather, attachment in the way that two could sit together on a hill and read one another's thoughts. The only question that remained was whether Roman was letting him go out of love or whether he was growing apart, accepting that he was ultimately his father's son. Whatever the case, he meant to hold onto that attachment even if it were to kill him.

They got where they needed to be quickly enough, the once boisterous and noisy surroundings, growing calm and quiet as he walked through the crowd of dogs, led by Roman in front of him. With all the bodies in the way, it was difficult to even see where he was going save for an occasional whimper, but when he lifted his paw to find blood on the grass, he knew himself to be in the right place at the right time.

Roman stepped to the side to reveal the bloodied mass before him. His goons had certainly done a number on the thing, which seemed to barely be breathing. Blood streaked it's fur and bruises lined those spots which were still dry. One of it's hind legs appeared to have been broken and the padding from one of it's paws had been torn clean off. It's eyes were mostly closed, although they did occasionally flutter open to look at the other prisoner, the other that had done wrong.

With a soft nod to beckon him on, Roman allowed him to step up and solve what suddenly seemed like a complex issue. From behind him, the other prisoner grew louder, desperately yapping about this and that. He was largely successful in tuning him out.

The neck was thick and quite strong, even when it's host was barely alive. For a moment, Otto was worried that he would look the fool, crouched over and unable to deliver a killing blow. A fear that quickly went away when he pushed upper mouth and lower jaw together, digging his teeth into the vital vein running down the hardest parts of the jugular.

There was a weak cry, the sound of life leaving a dog as the dog choked on it's own blood, finding solace in the end of it's suffering. He waited a moment more with his teeth still locked into place, but the thing did not move. The thing was dead.

Rising, Otto looked around with wide eyes, first at Roman as physically indifferent as ever, then at his men, some of whom watched him in admiration, others in fascination. The other prisoner was crying hysterically, held back only by the threat of a more immediate death.

Licking his bloodied maw, Otto soaked in the satisfaction of his temptations.

A clap of thunder struck.

And then another.

And another still.

Each one caused Dizzy to wince under the little bit of shelter that she had, curling in on herself to keep as far from the rain as possible. She risked a glance up into the sky, eyes lighting up at the same time that a streak of lightning flashed across the sky. There seemed to be no end in sight to the onslaught of bad weather and therefore no end in sight to the cold, shuddering chill that ran from the base of her tail all the way up to her neck.

It was foolish to come out alone, that much she knew, but everything about the new life she had led was too far removed from the life she had once known. Gone was the safe reliability of a house with food and water. She missed her uncles, all four of them. She missed the funny owl that would tell her jokes whenever she had nothing to do. Oddly, she did not miss her father, the feeling that he had up and left her still not having yet sunk in.

And although it was cold and distant, there was something that remained of her Mama. A sweet soft voice and long, heavy fur weighing her down in the night such that she could easily fall asleep.

That which remained was almost enough to lull her to sleep right there. Almost. In the end, the rain won out, seeming to grow more relentless, balancing out what was a fleeting moment of comfort.

Deciding in a surprising instance of boldness, that it would do her no good to shiver under a rock face barely providing any protection, Dizzy rose and padded off in search of something more sufficient. Dark as the night was to her and her sense of smell, the little that she did recognize spurred her onward.

Under the occasional cover of lightning, she picked out as many landmarks as she could. Those ranging from a billboard promoting, "Lions coming soon to Lincoln Park!" to a large, shaggy beast roaring out from it's enclosure as if to fight back against the thunder.

Small as she was, every little noise and every towering shadow made her flinch in fear. It took a self-made promise which may or may not have been true to keep her moving. Even then, her bravery could only last so long and the further she walked around drenched in cold rain and wind, the more that seemed to have been a temporary facade conjured up out of thin air.

Eventually the noises of beasts and images of art trailed off from the little she could see. That brought no reprieve, bringing instead mostly harsh light and angry pedestrians. On more than one occasion, she was almost hit by a car. The blasted things had been her biggest detractor for as long as she could remember. They seemed so far away one moment and then mere meters away in the next.

Still lost, Dizzy could only stumble around, doing her best to avoid certain death by way of being trampled. It took an effort and by the time she came to a resting stop underneath the imposing shadow of a gentleman dressed in a black suit and slacks with a neat top hat to complete his look. There she laid through all of a storm, feeling herself begin to shiver soon enough underneath the cold and then beginning to sneeze when her body decided that she was sick enough to do so. Miserable as she was, there was little left in her as far as energy was concerned and so she only stayed still, taking the beating from above.

"Hey kid."

Suddenly, a wet nose began to nudge her and were it not for the fatigued state she was, she would have leapt up in fear. Rather, Dizzy picked her glance up slowly, starting from a pair of golden paws and leading all the way up to two brown eyes which were looking down at her in a way that she could not quite place.

"You uh, you okay?"

She opened her mouth to respond, but then quickly closed it. Her lips sealed, she reminded herself that it was not a good idea to talk to strangers, at least not without her father by her side. He was always better at talking than she was and even then, had to deal with a few tougher and more unsavory breeds of dog.

"Are you okay?" he repeated in acknowledgement of her silence. "I couldn't help but notice that you were just sitting out here in the rain."

Dizzy risked another glance up to his eyes. He seemed friendly enough and he was standing with her in the rain getting absolutely drenched, but whether that spoke to his true intentions had yet to be seen.

"I got a little bit of cover just over there," he stated while tossing his head to her right, his left. "I'm not usually one to share, because communism and all that but you uh, you seem like you could use it pretty bad."

Strangely enough, he appeared nervous, shuffling in place and having broke off eye contact with her when he made the proposal. To her, that felt oddly relatable. She had always been more of a runner than a thinker.

"Completely your choice but if you wanna come with me, just say..." he trailed off when she began to stand, waiting for a moment under the still relentless storm before nodding and walking off, keeping a slow pace to ensure that she was following.

Dizzy was exhausted by the time he stopped, although she could admit that they had scarcely been walking for two minutes. She looked up at him, past the water dripping into her eyes and only then did she realize that he was beckoning her forward into... a tree.

With little point in questioning his sanity, she crawled into the tight enclosure, blinking at once as she was freed from the onslaught. He followed in after her, slower as a result of his larger frame.

It was still too dark to see anything, but feeling no end yet, she crawled in a little deeper, eventually making contact with something sturdy.

"Hang on there!" he interjected before she could even think of sniffing whatever it was. "Don't touch that. Or that."

She winced at the urgency in his voice, something he took notice of if the way in which he softened his next words were any indication.

"Sorry, I just like things to be organized in a very particular way."

In the extremely dim light, Dizzy could still hardly see him, but his shape was more than easy enough to identify and there seemed to be a sort of never-ending warmth radiating from him which she felt as their bodies inevitably rubbed and shifted against one another.

"I go by Ward," he said at last, after a long stretch of silence.

Ward. She considered the name for a moment. It was short and easy, able to roll right off of the tongue. There was no particular reason she could think of his name being Ward, yet to her, it suited him all the same.

"Dizzy," she said, speaking her first words to him.

"You're dizzy?" Ward asked.

"No. My name. It's Dizzy."

"Oh..."

For a moment she was worried that a name such as her own would somehow invalidate her in his eyes. It seemed ridiculous to her, as ridiculous as her name was.

"That's a nice name. Nice to meet you Dizzy."

Dizzy let out a sigh of relief that she had not even realized she had been holding.

After another stretch of silence, far longer than the first, Ward spoke again, "Do you wanna hear the story of Abraham Lincoln?"

With a tired groan, Dizzy cracked her eyes open. Sunlight poured in through stained windows, giving the living room a vast array of color. In the midst of gently pulling herself up, she stopped, feeling some sort of mass by her side. With some semblance of surprise, she realized it to be Peg, still snoring away softly.

To avoid waking the older dog, she moved much more gently, garnering only a little bit of stirring, but otherwise not doing much to budge her. After a somewhat relieved sigh, she headed off to the kitchen and decided to go for an early breakfast. Rather that than to think over an empty stomach.

As she ate, the fact that she had woken up much later than usual did not escape her. Whilst she usually would not struggle to wake up early and more often than not, did exactly that, she'd had good reason to be exhausted lately.

Having shown up with little warning or expectation, her new housemates had done nothing so far but bring question upon question to the forefront of her mind. It was strange to consider that only a few short months ago, she had been dying to ask and be answered and now was struggling to so much of think what to ask.

That was largely due to the fact that until she'd had the pleasure to actually meet the myth that was Peg, everything that was her mother had been little more than a few loosely strung together, disillusioned guesses. As smitten as he had claimed to be with Peg, her dad had hardly ever bothered to tell her much, often relaying only the basic message that she was a beauty and only had to leave because of that very beauty.

"Morning there."

Dizzy nearly leapt out of her skin, finding that she quickly withdrew her head from her bowl of food and spun around to come face-to-face with the very dog consuming her thoughts.

"Oh uhm, good morning... Peg," she said, difficult as she found it was to address the other. "Did you sleep well?"

"Mhm hmm," Peg quickly hummed, wearing the same smile that she always wore, the very one which had been plastered on her face since the day of her untimely arrival. At first, it had been warm and disarming, exactly the type of thing that Dizzy would have been happy to respond to in stride. But the novelty had eventually worn off and now the expression elicited more awkwardness than anything else. That was evident by the awkward stretch of silence that followed, Dizzy's eyes glancing every which way in her sudden desire to leave the room. When they did eventually reach Peg's once more, it dawned on her that the older dog was looking behind her toward the water and food bowls.

Wordlessly, she stepped aside, giving a grateful Peg the chance to quench her hunger and thirst.

"Thanks kid," she said before bending down lightly, joints cracking noisily in the process. "Y'know," she mused in between her first bite, "always thought the house dog life would suit you best."

"Oh?" Dizzy feigned interest, hardly able to keep herself from simply up and leaving.

"Course. Your dad and I always wondered where you would end up, we both lived on both sides of the tracks so we both knew what either side was like."

There was her chance once more to ask about everything she had ever wanted to know. Questions that had implanted themselves in the back of her mind could be answered with the help of just a few short words.

"Peg?"

"Yeah Honey?"

"Why did you have to leave when I was so young? And why did dad leave me behind?"

"How do you know Lady and Tramp?"

"Why now? Why leave me alone for all these years and choose now to come back?"

Her queries stopped in her mind's eye and with a subtle sigh, she deflated, "Never mind."

Peg paused in her eating for a moment to turn and face Dizzy as though she could sense the inner turmoil present in her offspring, but before she could say anything, a pair of blue suede shoes stepped noisily into the kitchen.

"Good morning you two," Dorian greeted them with a yawn, stretching two arms into the air. "Glad to see both of you are getting along just fine."

Dorian was a funny man, far from the norms of the time despite his youthful, handsome appearance and well dressed nature. Dizzy had more than once been present for all the times in which he told a joke entirely to himself or danced in a silly manner whenever something excited him. More than anything, he seemed to maintain an undying adoration of dogs, having taken her in after a little bit of pushing and nudging from Ward. When she had asked her friend why he did not do the same, seeing as Dorian was so welcoming, he had merely responded with a bored shake of his head.

"That's a good girl!"

She turned to see Peg engaged with Dorian as the man lightly peppered the top of her head with a few pats, reminding her once more of just how open he truly was. Bull and Toughy had also been let in with little complaint, the single protest that he did bring up being that their paws dirtied his favorite carpet. Even Lady and Tramp, little as he knew of the two were regularly allowed into his garden to frolic and relax. Dorian had even had the fortune of meeting their owners, two people and a little boy whom he privately considered to be the only genuine people he had ever spoken with. Appropriate and polite but not burdened with any superficiality.

"Whoa girl!" he laughed as Peg tugged on the sleeve of the old shirt he had on, leading him outside in what was seemingly a spontaneous game of tug-of-war. "Give me a moment!"