The crowd that surrounded the hero grew louder, a joyous, raucous cheer rippling throughout them. Cries of excitement and relief, celebrations for their newfound freedom, and cheers for the hero who had done it.

Underdog didn't seem to hear. He hadn't moved from where he stood, only loosened his stance. He looked pained and injured, with one of his shoulders pushed lower than the other and a whole shift to his form as he laid off one leg.

Regardless, the hero stood, still and silent, with his eyes closed and his muzzle slightly raised. Instead of the clamor of the crowd, Underdog was listening to something much more rewarding. He could hear the sharp rustle of trees blowing in the gentle breeze, the whistle of the wind winding around tall metallic buildings. He could hear the birds sing: sweet little chippers and loud exclamations, the coo of street pigeons and the flutter of wings.

He could hear the awful drone of sirens.

He could also smell uncountable aromas, each a far cry from the smell of dust and blood and dry air. The breeze carried in the salty scent of the faraway ocean, the sweet earthly smell of blooming flowers, the sharp onion-stench of cut grass.

Between Underdog's silence and the chatter of the citizens, not one glance was spared for the supposed king.

Simon struggled alone in the dirt, a river of red flowing from his snout to the soil. He raised his stiff arms, groaning with the effort, and sunk his claws into the ground. He grunted and growled with each movement, trying to pull himself forward. It was a vain attempt to run, for Simon was so injured that he only managed to move painful inches. He dragged his legs behind himself and sharp grains of soil pressed into the hot gash across his stomach. It wasn't long until the pain overcame him—Simon fell, exhausted, and lay still.

Not all within the crowd were joyous. A frantic setter shoved through the crowd, pushing celebrating people out of her way and leaving a trail of agitation in her wake. Veronica was too concerned after the beating her boss had taken to try blending in.

She finally shoved past the last citizen, breaking out onto the battlefield. Shock immediately brought her hands to her mouth. Her boss was a mess— a wretched shamble of bones and blood and torn fabric. He looked more like a corpse than a person, the ragged push-pull of his ribs Veronica's only sign to the contrary. She began to dart in his direction.

Unfortunately, the final person Veronica had shoved didn't take it so lightly. Standing a foot away and rumbling with a pained growl was Polly. She looked over her shoulder gravely, but swallowed back her snarl when she laid eyes on who had done it.

Polly got a wicked idea. "Hey," she barked softly.

Veronica spared only a moment's glance at her. Then, she realized who had called her. She stiffened up and stared at Polly with nervous, buggy eyes. Polly smirked and took a step back, then landed a heavy uppercut into the underside of Veronica's jaw.

Immediately, the setter shrieked. She fell back onto the hard earth with a groan. Red began to pool beneath her muzzle. Her fingers quivering, Veronica raised a hand to cover her bloodied nose. She looked up at Polly with a glare that could kill, but didn't try to stand. Polly pulled her axe from her belt loop and hovered it above Veronica's chest to ensure that.

Polly hummed. She tapped a finger to her lips and glanced around the battlefield. She couldn't hold Veronica down forever—surely there had to be something to restrain the two crooks.

Aha! A mere few feet away, Polly spotted a metal cord curled up beside a pile of brick. It must have come off Simon's mechanical monster after the explosion. She glanced over to Underdog. The hero was still standing solemnly in his freedom, his arms crossed and his eyes closed.

Polly whistled. "Hey, Underdog!"

Immediately, his ears pricked and his eyes shot open. He turned to look at Polly over his shoulder. Then, his ears pinned and he looked at her as if he had somehow misbehaved. Polly smiled playfully to assure him otherwise, feeling a warmth blossom across her cheeks. She pointed between the loose cord, the pinned Veronica, and the unconscious Simon.

Underdog followed Polly's motions with his eyes, then jolted as he realized. He hopped up and floated over, quickly grabbing the piece of scrap and straining to bend it. Though she fought and struggled, Underdog bent it around Veronica's wrist. She kicked and clawed at the ground, reaching for his cape and swatting at his feet. But even injured, she couldn't fight him off.

Underdog dragged her to her boss's side, tied his wrist alongside hers, and let the restraint drop. It landed heavily next to Veronica's head. She yelped and recoiled, and though she still tried to slip out of the steel, she gave up on fighting. Simon didn't notice his bonds, but was too weak to struggle, regardless.

The hero dusted off his hands. He should take them... somewhere. But...

He shifted his gaze toward the horizon, back in the direction of the warehouse he'd spent so long trapped in. Underdog sighed. He had to check on Bombay.

He heard the gentle fall of pawsteps come up beside him, and glanced up to find Polly. Though she still had a small smirk, her lips were closed around her teeth and her eyes were troubled. Underdog pricked his ears. She must have been thinking something similar.

She confirmed such with a small nod. "You've done... so much. Go see. And when you're done, I'll take the both," she put extra emphasis on the word, "of you to the hospital."

Underdog couldn't help the wheezy little laugh that escaped him. He had doubts about hospitals being up and running yet. It was a cover for his greater worry. Regardless, taking in a breath of fresh air and passing Polly a small smile, he lifted himself higher and flew off in the direction of his former prison.

The flight toward was much more lively than the flight away. Scruffy-looking people had emerged from their hiding spots, tossing eachother around, giving out hugs, and crying on eachothers shoulders. Everything looked bright and happy under the soft yellow light of the sun. A few of the people who admired the return of the sky cheered and whooped when they saw Underdog. The hero flushed and waved back, but it didn't soothe his anxious mind.

Finally, he reached the torn-up part of town. He recognized the warehouse immediately, though it was different from how he'd left it. A huge hole had been punched through the metallic roof, more windows had been broken into, and—most notably—it seemed like a whole wall had been demolished.

Criminals poured out of the building like water through a dam. They, too, whooped and hollered as they got their freedom, not one sparing a glance to check for heroes. Underdog didn't care. He didn't want to see them, either. They were so crowded together that he couldn't pick out one crook from another, regardless. Maybe the bells on Pranks's hat or the cloud of darkness that surrounded Battyman.

The torrent of villains slowed down to a trickle. A few stragglers made their way out, tripping over the debris underfoot and moving more cautiously. They still didn't look skyward.

One of the stragglers was a trout, but he didn't run. He stomped over to a piece of debris—as he approached it, Underdog realized that it was a person. The man was tall, with an oar-like tail, a metal pole wrapped around him, and significantly trampled. Underdog let out a sigh of relief as he saw a sparkle of electricity dance around him. The Electric Eel hadn't really escaped, hadn't had the chance to make things worse. The trout dragged Eel away by the back of his shirt collar.

Underdog finally drifted down once they were out of earshot. He kept a few inches above the ground to avoid the uneven terrain, kicking up a small cloud of dust. Everything structural littered the ground inside and out: grout and pebbles, chunks of drywall and splintered beams of wood. Underdog absent-mindedly wondered how the crooks managed it—but didn't let himself dwell. He had more important matters to worry about.

He scanned the warehouse for any signs of life, starting with the corner where Bombay had left Cad. The big dog still laid there, no different than what Underdog remembered. He trailed his eyes across the floor. It was covered in fur, strips of fabric, and blood. Little black shapes of ash marked where the barrier of lasers once stood.

In the heart of the former prison was a lump. Underdog immediately recognized it as Bombay. They looked like a meteorite, collapsed peacefully within the sunbeam that the broken roof let in, as if they had carved it personally. Underdog wanted so desperately to believe that it was peaceful—but he knew better.

His friend was a mess— a wretched shamble of bones and blood and torn fabric. They looked more like a corpse than a person, their fur was ruffled, and their red cape obscured any blood they might be lying in.

Underdog squared his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut. He felt a dull numbness wash over him, his head shaking itself and his breaths becoming ragged. Underdog shuffled closer slowly, but his feet felt like stones. He willed Bombay to get up, desperate pleas falling from his lips, so softly that even he couldn't hear them over the blood rushing through his skull.

The black cat's ear twitched. A low groan finally pierced through Underdog's senses and echoed within the warehouse. He felt his breath catch in his throat.

Slowly and with a wobble, Bombay began to rise. They pulled one elbow under themself, groan turning into a wheeze. Their vertebrae cracked and popped as Bombay whipped their neck around to the corner of the warehouse. Seeing that Cad was still (thankfully) knocked out, Bombay sniffed, paused for a moment, then grumbled to their hands and knees.

A dry cough raked through their frail body. They clutched at the dusty ground until they finally retched up a messy hairball, accompanied by a drizzle of blood. Bombay took in several deep breaths until their wheeze settled. Then, they sighed.

Underdog took in a sharp inhale, his heart swelling. The hot spark of feeling overwhelmed him and he didn't hesitate, launching himself at Bombay.

"GHHK—!"

Underdog clutched tightly onto Bombay, feeling the rigidity of their bones press into his arms and the heat of their injuries within his sweater. Unfortunately, wounded as Bombay was, they were still on high-alert. They struggled under the dog's embrace, slashing at him with knife-sharp claws and no reluctance.

Underdog yelped, falling backwards. Bombay turned around stiffly, grunting with every movement, but a growl rolling in their throat nonetheless. Their ears were pinned back and their pupils were no larger than needles. Underdog merely rubbed his injured arm and stared back.

"Would'ja look at who it is?" Bombay muttered gruffly. Then, they seemed to realize it themself. Immediately, their ears pricked up and their eyes grew to the size of saucers. "Wait," they gasped.

Bombay launched themself at Underdog, pouncing onto his chest with such force that the two stumbled backward. Underdog coughed, the impact striking a wound and knocking the wind out of him. At the moment, however, he didn't care. Bombay rumbled with a warm purr atop him, and Underdog clutched the fur on the back of their head, tail beating behind him.

"Don't scare me like that!" Underdog exclaimed, a nervous laugh warping his words. "Don't scare me like that."

Bombay snorted, their purr changing into their own hissy laugh. They headbutted Underdog, stroked their head under his, then sat up with a grumble. Underdog scanned them over for injuries: one of their arms hung limply at their side and their head drooped forward. Bombay raised their good hand, knuckles bloody and one claw cut to its quick, hissing as they pressed a bruise on their cheek. One of their ears was flopped sideways, and on the same side, a half-descended membrane turned their sclera into a little galaxy. Most of their whiskers were twisted, and their yellow spandex uniform was covered in small nicks.

In spite of all that, Bombay chuckled wryly. They smirked, revealing bloodied fangs and a missing premolar. "That scared you?" they teased, though their voice held an unusual gravel as they ignored their pains. "I was just catching my breath, is all. One time Hiss got this herd of rhinos—"

Bombay inhaled like they wanted to go on. Instead, they choked and began to cough. They gurgled as they slapped their limp arm across their ribs. Underdog lurched forward to hold their shoulders steady. Bombay jolted with one final cough, then raised a shaking arm and wiped their chin off with the back of their glove. Scarlet streaked across it.

Underdog tilted his head, silently asking if they were alright. Bombay sneered and grimanced, letting out a gaspy chuckle. "Point is, it takes a lot more than that to hurt me."

Though Underdog's brows furrowed in concern, he let out an easy scoff and gentle smile. "Right."

Bombay rolled their eyes. They pulled Underdog's arms away, muttering, "You should've seen it." They sat up straight, placing their arms on the ground to push themself up. One eye screwed shut and their voice hitched as they put pressure on their broken arm. "Those baddies put up a good fight—swinging me all around the room, pulling my tail, knocking my head into the ground. Going below the belt and all that!"

Underdog winced at the idea. Bombay was far less equipped for an attack like that than he was. "I'm sure that was a delight," he groaned softly, scooting forward until he could get onto his feet. He pushed up off the ground to make himself hover, stumbling slightly.

"You bet," Bombay beamed. Underdog righted himself just in time, for only a moment after Bombay reached their full height, they toppled over. They collapsed onto the dog's shoulder. Though their weight pushed Underdog back slightly, the dog steadied himself so neither would fall further. Bombay let out a small whine, digging their claws into Underdog's shoulders and going mostly limp.

Underdog let out a quiet laugh and rubbed a gentle hand across Bombay's back in an attempt to ignore the way his heart had skipped a beat. He could feel little welts beneath Bombay's uniform, alongside spots of drooling warmth. "Too many times landing on your feet?" he teased, trying to keep his voice light.

Bombay's ears pinned, anger rolling off them so strongly that Underdog could feel the air shift. They took a moment before they retorted back, their voice pained and quiet. "You're as bad as everyone else."

Underdog hummed. Bombay's weight shifted, leaning heavily onto the dog. They kneaded their paws into Underdog's back, their breaths quickening and their fur beginning to bristle. They let out a purr, far more strained than it had been minutes ago; and though they quivered against Underdog, it felt more like they were shivering than rumbling. Underdog held Bombay steady, pulling them tighter against his torso.

A soft crosswind blew fresh, cold air into the warehouse. The sun shone in from above, warm and welcoming in Underdog's fur. He sighed, pushing away his own injuries and the feeling of Bombay clawing at him.

His friends were alive. His city was saved. His enemy was tied up somewhere far, far away.

For the first time in a while, it was a good day in Biggers City.

"It's okay," Underdog murmured softly, continuing to stroke Bombay's back. "You're okay."

Bombay finally seemed to even out, untensing themself and their shiver fizzling out. They let out a breath so large that it shuddered their shoulders, then took a wobbly step away from Underdog. Bombay lifted their head and twisted their spine until a hundred little pops rang out, then went back to slouching. They moved their broken arm to their injured rib cage and let out a hiss.

Underdog tilted his head, beginning to open his mouth and ask if they were alright. He was cut off by the gentle fall of pawsteps behind him. Bombay pricked their ears, noticing as well. The two heroes passed eachother a stony glance and a silent snarl, then turned to face whichever idiot criminal had returned to the scene head-on.

It was not a criminal—instead, it was Polly. Her jaw hung open and she stood rigidly, her eyes ginormous and full of stars. Underdog immediately dropped his stance, the adrenaline rerouting to his head. His brain felt light and his face grew hot, and a soft smile parted his lips before he could stop it.

Bombay turned on their bravado as if it had never left. "And here comes Polly, too!" they exclaimed, "You're just in time to hear about my victory!"

Polly shook herself to clear the shock, then ran her hand through her musty hair. She bounded over quickly, a huge beam splitting her face. "Your victory?" she exclaimed.

Bombay laid a bloodied hand on Polly's scraped elbow. She scanned them up and down as they explained. "The baddies put up a good fight, but I had enough! I wasn't gonna take it anymore. I stomped my foot into the ground—I'll call this move my Mega Stomp— and all of a sudden, the laser jail cell went away!"

Bombay turned to look up through the hole in the roof. They pointed to further demonstrate, "And look at that! The dome is down too!" They turned back to the two dogs, modestly rubbing their claws on their chest. "Looks like I saved the whole day. So what've you been up to?"

Polly began to laugh almost before Bombay finished speaking. She faced Underdog with a twinkle in her eye and that pretty, genuine smile he had missed so much. "I can tell just from looking at him," she said, circling a finger around Underdog's chest. "He took down Simon Barsinister."

Polly then stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his shoulders in a small hug. "My hero," she murmured. Underdog snorted out a small laugh, a mix of embarrassment and admiration bringing a flush to his face. Beside him, Bombay looked mortified.

Their good ear was pinned back and their eyes were huge and damp. They clutched their hands together beneath their bleeding chin. "B-but... my Mega Stomp?"

Underdog rolled his eyes, though it made his head spin. He staggered against Polly. She immediately righted him, and passed him a nod when he looked back up. She then looked over to Bombay. "Now," she stated, "both of you are going to the hospital."

Bombay deflated, their mock-sorrow draining into annoyance. "Oh, come on! I'm not hurt that bad, I'll walk it off—!"

As Bombay began to ramble, Polly pushed herself closer to Underdog. She pulled one of his hands around herself, Underdog instinctively picking her up. Then, she reached forward to grasp Bombay's wrist. Underdog swallowed back the bile in his throat and kicked off, bolting out of the warehouse. Polly tugged Bombay beside him, whatever they were saying cut off by a surprised shout. The cat faltered on their feet, quickly shifting gears to fly alongside Underdog on their own accord.

The three flew over the city, Bombay still trying to argue. Though they winced through most of their words, so Polly merely had to pass them a stern glance before they gave in. Underdog continued to sniff the summery scents and listen to the lovely sounds of peaceful citylife.

The citizens below were hard at work, rebuilding broken buildings, cleaning up debris, and ensuring their neighbors were safe. Underdog's gentle peace was broken as they flew over a great crowd of people. They seemed to be disassembling Simon's castle, though they all paused in their cause to cheer for the heroes. A ripple of applause and gleeful shouts rose from them, loud and overwhelming, but harmonious enough that Underdog could understand the cries of his name and "Thank you!"

Underdog smiled, his face going red. He felt his chest soar, his heartbeat quickening. Bombay vainly twirled and waved down at the citizens, while Polly pumped her fist in the air. Underdog hid his head against her torso.

As the heroes flew, one set of salutes were repeated:

"Look! Up in the sky!"

"It's a plane!"

"It's a bird!"

"It's that hero!"

Underdog would smile and take in a deep breath of the fresh summertime air. The hero of Biggers City he was—the protector of the poor and defenseless, the preserver of safety for the ones he loved, and the defender of ones who couldn't defend themselves. No matter what schemes Simon Barsinister or any other criminal tried to pull next, no matter what they did to take over the world or to injure their peers, one thing was certain:

Nothing can bring down a hero.