Neither Reign nor Striker really knew where they should go, so, as they walked, Reign started to let his mind wander and his feet fell into a lazy pattern that easily kept him and his brother going at a relatively slow pace. Until, that is, he was stopped dead in his tracks.
There, a few yards ahead of them, gathered around a fountain was a small group of dogs, about five or six. To someone new to these streets, the group would just seem like your average gutter mutts, but Reign and Striker were no strangers, and both of them recognised the idiodically named “Hells Angels”. Reign heard Striker behind him making an annoyed grinding noise at the sight of the pack of strays.
They were about to just back into the shadows and avoid the whole area, but suddenly a loud bark echoed from the pack.
“WELL WOULD YA LOOK AT THAT!”
Just ignore them and keep backing away. . . Reign thought as he closed his eyes, calming the anger rising in his chest. Easiest to say that didn’t last long.
“IF IT AIN’T OUR FAVORITE MUTANTS!”
Stay positive. . . Again Reign pushed his annoyance down. He wouldn’t let these mutts get to him.
“HEY! GREEN EYES! WHY DON’T YOU BRING YOUR HOMO BROTHER OVER TO PLAY?”
Snap. . .
Reign slowly opened his eyes, steadying them on the speaker. A medium sized dog with matted brown-ish fur and a sizable mud smear covering half his face and torso. While assessing every detail of the dog’s stature and visible areas of strength, Reign gently set the kitten on the ground and used his paw to push it back towards his brother.
Sets most of his weight on his front paws, well tended teeth, relies heavily on fangs and brute strength in a fight, easily overtaken by speed, keep clear of head and front claws. . . Thick skull, not meant for strategic combat. Low intellect.
The thoughts whirled through Reign’s mind as he slowly advanced on the brown mutt who had insulted his brother.
“Racks, isn’t it?” Reign asked as he got closer, tilting his head and swiveling his ears forwards, detecting his foe’s ragged panting. “You’re the one who criticized my brother?”
“Yeah?” The mutt snarled, in an almost laughing tone, “Whatcha gonna do ‘bout it?”
Now within a few feet of Racks and his pack, Reign could smell their stanch and almost regretted getting closer, but he kept his approach until he was almost nose to nose with Racks, which must have been funny to look at considering how much taller Reign was.
Uncomfortable, Racks took a step back so he wasn’t being forced to look up at the massive black german shepherd in front of him.
“Before you make a dumb mistake. . .” Reign started, in a low, cold voice, “I would suggest you eat your words. . .”
That seemed to rejuvenate Racks’s confidence because his dirty mug suddenly contorted in rage and he jumped forward to get in Reign’s face.
“‘Eat my words?!’” He snarled, his rancid breath almost making Reign dizzy, “There’s six of us and one of you! You really think you could take us on?!”
Reign simply looked down his snout at Racks, raising an eyebrow.
“Six more and maybe you’d have a fair fight. . .” He said, still keeping his voice low and cool. He wouldn’t, no, he COULDN’T let this mutt get to him.
Apparently, the same didn’t apply for Racks.
“THAT’S IT!” He snarled, lunging forward “ I’LL RIP YOU APART!”
Reign sidestepped the attack and watched Racks fall to the hard pavement. Racks jumped up and whirled on him, snarling. Reign simply leaned to the side and looked around him to share a confused look with his brother.
Striker knew what was about to happen, and he almost pitied the dog who had decided to mock Reign when he was already having a bad day. To be honest, the next few seconds could have been predicted by pretty much anyone with any type of basic foresight. Reign dodged Racks’s next attack, and the next, and the next, matching the mutt’s fighting patterns.
Then, as Rack’s pounced again, Reign slid under him, then leapt straight up, slamming his shoulders directly into Racks’s underbelly and sending him flying into the nearby fountain. Reign followed and leapt over the rim of the fountain. Striker watched as he reached down and, sinking his teeth into the scruff of his neck, flipped Racks over his head.
The mutt landed with a wet splat on the pavement. Reign stepped out of the fountain and stood over Racks.
“Next time. . .” He said softly, “Consider the consequences before challenging a dog twice your size who has been living on the streets longer than you’ve been alive. . .”
Striker didn’t think there was a single living thing he admired more than his brother. He had seen Reign flip a bully kutta over his head. That seemed to be his brother’s signature ‘you’ll remember me’ move, throwing those who challenge him over his head. And it was effective. Neither Reign nor Striker fought the same dog twice.
Stiker was suddenly snapped out of his thoughts when his brother materialized in front of him, reaching down to pick the kitten up again.
“Time to go.” He grumbled through the kitten’s fur.
Striker would have laughed at the next thing he did had his brother not already been in a rough mood. Reign took the kitten, turned his head back, and gently placed it between his shoulder blades. It was probably the cutest thing Striker had ever seen.
With that, the pair and their little friend started off down the street again, almost as though nothing had happened.
