Daredevil Prompt Post #10

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THIS POST IS FOR ANYONE WHO HAS SEEN SEASON 2 OF DAREDEVIL or doesn't mind being spoiled for it. If you haven't and you're lost and confused, head back to the safety of Post #9, where no S2 spoilers are allowed.

Feel free to put prompts that have nothing to do with Season 2 on this post! This is a general prompt post, just without any spoiler warnings.


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Comments

Frank's dog is okay

[(Anonymous)]

Frank's dog (can we call him Max?) is healthy and happy and Frank pets him and takes him for lots of walks.

Re: Frank's dog is okay

[(Anonymous)]

+1

Yes pleaseeeee. What happened to him, why are we not informed of his fate D;
We could also call him Loot after Frank's coyote in the comics.

Also, in case people were curious the dog's an American Staffordshire Terrier, not an American Pit Bull Terrier. :)

Re: Frank's dog is okay

[(Anonymous)]

+2 for Loot. Thanks for the breed, you dog loving fan :)

Re: Frank's dog is okay

[(Anonymous)]

Which run was Loot in? I haven't encountered him yet.

[Mini Fill] A Pair of Fighters

[(Anonymous)]

((I hope you don’t mind it being from the dog’s perspective. A!A’s never written fanfiction before so go easy on me.))

XXX

There’s pain.

He’s used to pain but not like this. His pain is stabbing fangs, barks, snarls, angry, teeth, flesh, angry, yells, praise, shouts, bites, more angry, keep biting, go for the throat, hang on, shake-

This is just loud. Just loud and screams and shots and more shots and he whimpers, strains at the end of the chain and jerks to get away from it all. His nose floods with the smell of blood, too much and another whine escapes his throat as he tugs on his collar again. His Masters are screaming and he can smell their blood in the air, and, and the gunshots. He knows gunshots. Gunshots are for the losers, for the ones who make it out of the ring beaten and bloody and his Masters were angry and he lost so, so-

The loud stops.

There’s still a ringing in his ears, his muscles continue trembling. He tries to whine again but his throat is so sore, more than his tattered ear or the bite on his skull or his mangled paw. There’s nothing but the blood of his Masters in the air, gunpowder and their fear scent, and his fear scent.

He doesn’t want to stay here. So he strains against the chain once more, throws his weight into the chain and pulls. Pulls until his throat hurts more and keeps going. Keeps pulling until the tension breaks and he runs, heart pounding and panting wildly.

When he hears the soft thud of footsteps he runs straight towards them. He doesn’t check which Master it is. Just barks and whines and whimpers and wags his tail and runs past the other Masters, dead his nose tells him, and huddles at the man’s feet. When a hand reaches down to gingerly pet his head he shoves his nose in the open palm and presses his head against the man’s knee.

XXX

He doesn’t recognise this Master. There’s something different about him. He can’t pinpoint what it is; his new Master smells like gunpowder, stale sweat, oil and blood. But he also smells like dog treats and doesn’t have those other smells (cigarettes, alcohol, that weird powder stuff that makes his nose itch). The man walks with strong, even confident footsteps. He walks like a fighter. His old Masters were fighters, but he’s different somehow.

The man doesn’t take him back to his kennel for one thing. He takes him, carries him upstairs, to a place inside. Inside means other dogs, so he searches the room, looks around for the other dog, raises his muzzle and sniffs the air. No dogs. The room doesn’t smell like other canines, doesn’t sound like barks. He catches rat in the walls and bird in the roof but no canines. He doesn’t understand.


XXX

Resting his head on his paws, he watches the man as he sits at a table and fiddles with a gun, taps buttons on the box that makes sounds, opens a smaller box that sounds like metal and clicking and smells like antiseptic and does more things until he quickly loses interest. Yawning loudly, he thumps his tail against the floor and waits for the man to look over. When their eyes meet he flicks his ears forward, raises his head slightly and tilts his head to the left. The slightest twitch of a smile at the corners of the man’s lips sends his tail wagging even faster.

Re: [Mini Fill] A Pair of Fighters

[(Anonymous)]

OP- this is so beautiful, thank you! If you didn't say anything I would not know that this is you're first fic..
That poor doggy deserves to be happy with Frank. Frank will be a very good master, for many years I hope.

Re: [Mini Fill] A Pair of Fighters

[(Anonymous)]

omg what a precious little angel!

[Mini Fill] A Pair of Fighters (Part 2)

[(Anonymous)]

I have no idea where I'm going with this or how much I'm gonna write. But hey, if someone enjoys this, great :D

XXX

“Jackson? Scout? Lucky? Rex? Hunter? Blue? Loot?”

Staring up at the man with his head cocked to the side, the dog blinked. Whatever the man was trying to do, he didn’t quite get it. The man sat on the chair, glancing down at the dog with his arm crossed, an eye brow raised and continued to say words he didn’t understand. He doesn’t know these words, it’s not ‘Attack’ or ‘Kill’ or ‘Sick ‘em’ or ‘Bad dog!’, there was no command in his tone, nothing that suggested anger or frustration. Just more words that went in in his good ear and out the ripped one. Staring up dumbly doesn’t seem to do anything either.

“Max?”

Wondering if he should do something, he switched his head tilt to the other side and started wagged his tail a little harder.

“Max. Max then?”

Happy? That sounded like happy? Happy is good! He’s happy too! He answered the question with a few soft barks, padding up to his new Master to rest his chin on the man’s knee to shamelessly ask for head scritches. He likes head scritches. The old Masters gave him the occasional pat when he did good but scritches are better.

“Okay then Mad Max. Just you and me now,” the man says. More happy in his master’s voice before he scratches at the dog’s forehead, taking care to avoid the bite wound and run fingers through short grey fur.

XXX

“Max, stop chewing your bandages.”

It didn’t take him long to start responding to his new name. He doesn’t know why this Master changed it; it’s not any of the ones the old Masters used, not Blood, or Stupid Mutt, or Rip his throat out. But he quickly learnt to react to it if he wanted a cookie. He likes cookies. Cookies are good.

Pausing in his gnawing, Max slowly looked up. Master was at the table as usual, still playing with the box that makes sounds, scratch of pencil against paper. Max knows ‘stop’. He doesn’t get the other words but Max is a smart dog. He knows Master wants him to stop biting the tight around his paw. But… he’s really bored. And the tightness itches. And Master’s been ignoring him. So as he looked the man dead in the eyes, he reached down and continued nibbling at the wrappings.

“Maaax. No.”

When the man started to walk over to him, he rolled over onto his back, tail wagging and tongue lolling from an almost smiling mouth. Finally getting what he wanted, he flailed a paw in the air.

“Manipulative son of a bitch, aren’t you?” There’s a smirk in the man’s voice as he rubs the dog’s belly, hitting that right spot that made his hind leg kick.

It’s only been a night and a day but Max was already smitten to this new man. This man spent a lot more time with him than the old Masters, talking and petting and feeding (when the man had left the apartment, Max had howled. Howled and howled and howled until Master came back with a big bag of dog food over his shoulder) instead of leaving to his own devices chained up to his kennel or locked in a cage until the next fight. Max wondered when the next fight would be. He would fight to make this Master happy.

A crackling sound from the sound box had the two of them looking up. Master paused in his petting to listen to the crackly string of words, absently kneading the dog’s paws. With one final pat on the chest, the man grunted and rose to his feet, searching his inventory of weapons for something (a gun probably. Max doesn’t like guns).

“Sounds like me. I’ll be right back.”

Re: [Mini Fill] A Pair of Fighters (Part 2)

[(Anonymous)]

Oooh, does that mean we'll see Matt next? I love Max's POV so much, the hints about his past Masters (who deserved Frank's bullets lbr) hurt but also serve as perfect counterpoint for Frank, Resident Giant Softie. The part where he scritches Max leaves me a happy puddle on the floor.

Re: [Mini Fill] A Pair of Fighters (Part 2)

[(Anonymous)]

"He would fight to make this Master happy."

BABY NO OMG

Re: [Mini Fill] A Pair of Fighters (Part 2)

[(Anonymous)]

Every dog-naming scene ever will forever make me think of Beethoven. :P But this one was especially cute! "Happy? That sounded like happy? Happy is good! He’s happy too!" → Awwww!

he rolled over onto his back, tail wagging and tongue lolling from an almost smiling mouth. Finally getting what he wanted, he flailed a paw in the air.
→ So cute! I love it when dogs do this ♥ Or cats. Or animals. >.>

Max wondered when the next fight would be. He would fight to make this Master happy.
→ Loyalty. ♥

[Mini Fill] A Pair of Fighters (Part 3/?)

[(Anonymous)]

He only howls for an hour this time.

At some point between the shouting of some drunken stranger outside on the street and the wail of a siren passing by, Max came to the realisation that the man would be coming back. He has to, right? His weapons are here, and his sound box is here. Max is here. So he settled down on his makeshift nest of blankets and shut his eyes, keeping his good ear open.

XXX

He’s not sure how much time passes before he hears it. It’s the strained creak of the rarely used door, the soft thud, thud, thud of very quiet footsteps making their way upstairs. Max has very good ears (well, ear), but even so, if he weren’t being extra vigilant tonight he might not have picked up on them. They’re not Master’s. Master’s are steady, surer. Louder. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say these were catlike (they’re not of course, cats are quieter. Max doesn’t like cats. They scratch your nose when you bite into them). They’re more cautious. The only reason someone would have to be cautious is if they’re a threat.

Switching his head tilt to the opposite side, he slowly rose into a crouching position, inhaling breaths of cold air as he tried to match scent to sound. Too far away. Nothing but gunpowder and unknown chemicals flood his nose. Frustrated, the dog tensed his muscles and eased into a stalk, creeping forward as the steps finally stopped outside the apartment’s front door.

There’s a crash, splintering wood, metal hitting drywall, stranger and Max lunges. He curled his lips back and flashed ivory fangs, snarling and barking and is satisfied when he see the threat take a careful step backwards. He continued to stand his ground, puff out his chest and growl like he’s supposed to, protect his Master’s territory like he’s supposed. While Max has never actually bitten a human before, he can bluff like no tomorrow.

Something’s wrong. Maybe the stranger see’s through his bluff? When he takes in his next breath he realises what’s off. The stranger smells like paper and metal and ink and blood from old wounds but it’s the lack of gunpowder that throws him off, and the lack of fear scent that derails him. The enemy (enemy?) walked forward and there’s no unsure in his gait. Max keeps up the barking but he’s confused.

“Good boy.”

Max is more confused. Enemies don’t praise him.

He still growls for good measure but when food is shoved in his face instinct takes over and he wolfs it all down with a bite and a tail wag. He gets another “Good boy” for that, and a head pat to go with it. Max is very confused.

But Max is a smart dog so he decided to think this over logically. Enemies are angry. The stranger is not angry. Enemies smell like gunpowder. Stranger doesn’t smell like gunpowder. Enemies don’t call him Good boy and give him pets. Stranger did. So the stranger isn’t an enemy. That makes sense. Max is not confused anymore.

So he sits down and watches the stranger (friend?) explore the apartment. Max wasn’t wrong about the cat comparison… but cats are sharp and dumb so he’s going to compare his new friend to another dog.

Even in the same room, the man’s footsteps are all but silent. He cocks his head to one side when he listens, inclines his head to sniff the air. Max has never seen a human do that before. This human gets it. He likes this human.

Max continues to watch and wait, his wariness evolving into curiosity. The stranger walks around the apartment, listens to the sound box (Max is starting to think that thing is important). Doesn’t do much else.

When it comes time for his new friend to leave, the man gives him a quick pat on the head before sprinting out the door. Max wonders if he’ll be back.

Re: [Mini Fill] A Pair of Fighters (Part 3/?)

[(Anonymous)]

OP- I forgot to comment on part 2 after I read it, but I just want to say how much I love all of this ! Max's pov is fantastic, it's funny but also heartbreaking.. And I'm very scared for what happens next! (But also excited) The matt /cat comparison is a good one.. I hope he does come back too..

Re: [Mini Fill] A Pair of Fighters (Part 3/?)

[(Anonymous)]

I just want to say, I've had a shitty week and this fic is a ray of sunshine that's brightened up my days. I read it over and over again whenever I feel down, I don't know what it is you do but it makes me all warm and squishy inside. Your update means a lot to me, thank you so much AA!

Re: [Mini Fill] A Pair of Fighters (Part 3/?)

[(Anonymous)]

Max doesn’t like cats. They scratch your nose when you bite into them
→ LMAO. Gee, really?

He cocks his head to one side when he listens, inclines his head to sniff the air. Max has never seen a human do that before. This human gets it. He likes this human.
→ Oh, Matt. ♥ (I assume it's Matt, judging by the silence, lack of gunpowder, and listening/sniffing?)

A Pair of Fighters AO3 Link

[(Anonymous)]

http://archiveofourown.org/works/6350824/chapters/14548897

I'll still be posting unedited stuff here though, the stuff up there will just be prettier.

[Fill] A Pair of Fighters (Part 4/?)

[(Anonymous)]

((Was going to make this chapter longer but screw it, have an update.))

XXX

The next time there’s the creak of an old door, Max recognises the footsteps. Max yawns, jaws gaping open as he stretched out his forelegs, flexed his toes and shook the dust off his coat. He scratches an itch behind his ear before sitting back and waiting patiently, tracking the footsteps as they make their way closer.

He follows them up the stairs, down the first corridor. They stop at what Max assumes is the beginning of the second hallway. They stay there for half a second before what started as a walk evolves into a full blown sprint. The already broken door bursts open and Max flinches, yelps in surprise and backs up for a second.

“Max?!”

Max’s mind races. What’s wrong? Is that anger in his voice? Frustration? What did he-

A heavy sigh.

“Max.”

What is that? Relief? Scared? Neither of those are bad, are they?

No, no wait Master’s not scared. Max is. Because he knows what’s off. There’s blood. Lots of it. He can barely smell the gunpowder over it like usual. It’s unknown blood and it’s stranger blood but most importantly it’s master’s blood. Because Master is hurt. So Max whines loudly, let’s his worry be known.

The man approaches and the dog sweeps his tail across the floor, barks excitedly, and when the man finally gets close enough Max gets up on his hind legs and places his front paws on his Master’s calf. There’s a quiet “Oof” before Master gives in to the dog’s pestering and gives him a good scratch, running fingers through grey fur and looking the dog all over. There’s a smile in his voice as he mumbles something the dog doesn’t quite catch.

Max runs a blue nose up and down, inspects the human while the human looks the dog over. He can hear the tired in the man’s breathing, counts one, two, three- Too many wounds.

Master gives in to fatigue and eventually sits on the floor, the perfect height for Max to plant slobbery kisses on his face (to some rather futile protests). Another grunt when Max jabs an arm with his nose and the man unclips the chain from the collar. Max promptly worms his way into his lap.

XXX

“All right, okay, good to see you too Max. Now get off.”

There’s a smile in the man’s voice as he says that, lightly shoves the dog who rolls (in)elegantly onto the floor. Max rolls over, belly up and watches upside down as Master breathes out a held breath, thinks for a moment before he gets up.

Max didn’t notice it before but there’s a limp in the human’s step. It’s not major, but add all the other cuts and bruises that the staffy noticed on his initial inspection and it was enough to have the dog worrying. So for the rest of the day, Max doesn’t leave the man’s side.

Master was busy today. His first order of business was to fix the busted lock on the door that Max’s friend had so kindly kicked in. There were a lot of tools involved, tools that were on the other side of the room and Max joined Master for every one of those journeys, almost tripping the man on a number of occasions. He caught the human mumbling something about ‘training’. Max didn’t know humans could be trained.

XXX

Three shiny new locks (and a couple test kicks) later and the man was finally satisfied with the apartment’s security, finally getting around to sorting out his injuries, much to Max’s relief.

There’s a squeak as the med kit opens, antiseptic smell, metal sounds as Master rummages through bottles, bandages, needles, thread and other things Max doesn’t know the name of. The dog curls up at the man’s feet as he treats himself.

Re: [Fill] A Pair of Fighters (Part 4/?)

[(Anonymous)]

Omg an update! Best. weekend. ever!

The mental image of Frank getting slobbery dog kisses is making me so happy. And "humans can be trained" lolololol.

I presume this is right after Frank's BDSM rooftop date with Matt? Hoo boy, the Irish are coming. This is gonna break my heart *whimpers*

P/s: Isn't that door the biggest proof that at this point in time Frank is still baby!Punisher? He doesn't booby trap it at all and any one can just waltz in. Your dog is home Frank, be more careful ffs!

[Fill] A Pair of Fighters (Part 5/?)

[(Anonymous)]

((Turns out giving this bit its own chapter was the correct way to go xD))

XXX

It’s an uneventful day. Max isn’t going to complain about that.

Max continues to stay by his Master’s side, keeping an ear out on the door while he’s at it. His attention is divided between the sound box and the door, and frankly not enough on his awful smelling wounds. Max can’t smell an infection or anything but he decides to worry anyway, resting his muzzle on the man’s knee when he’s too restless to stay curled up on the ground.

He wrinkles his nose at the smell of disinfectant. Master’s stitching up what looks to be a rather nasty looking wound on his arm, barely flinching as he does so. Max on the other hand does. It looks painful. Needlessly painful. Not that Max was a wimp or anything, he likes to think he has decent pain tolerance especially for a dog, but he couldn’t understand why humans insisted on jabbing themselves (and others!) with sharp objects. They couldn’t just lick their wounds and call it a day like every other species on the planet…

Once the medical treatment is done, Master gets back to what he usually does; more listening to that sound box, tinkering with guns, writing stuff down, other stuff that goes over the dog’s head. He fuels himself on black coffee that Max tries to unsuccessfully swipe. Max makes a note to try again tomorrow.

XXX

It’s almost evening when Master takes a break and turns to the napping dog at his feet.

Max yawns, looks up to see Master’s got something in his hands. That wakes him up a little more. Master tosses the round object up and down a few times. Then he throws it.

“Max, get it.”

Get what?

The object rolls a short distance and Max gets up to sniff it. It’s round, sort of a green-yellow colour and fuzzy. He pokes it once with his nose and glances back at the human. Is he meant to do something?

“Huh.”

Master gets up to retrieve it. Then tosses it again. Max gives the man a blank stare. Master retrieves it again and gives the dog a head scratch which Max leans into.

“So no one taught you fetch.”

Confusion? Realisation? Max pokes the man again. Master keeps scratching the dog, smoothing out the fur on his forehead. Max sniffs the green thing again, wondering if it’s important too.

“We’ll figure something out.”

XXX

It’s dark when Master finally eats something. Max manages to puppy-eye half of said meal of mystery canned soup (even his sharp nose can’t figure out what exactly is in that tin). Max wonders if Master should be eating a lot more if he’s recovering. But Max has gone a few days without eating before and he lived. So he dismisses the thought.

When Master goes to bed, looking over the papers he’s got pinned to the walls one last time before doing so, Max curls up in his blanket nest and doesn’t shut his eyes until the man’s breathing slows.

XXX

There’s a scream.

There’s a scream and Max jolts awake, scrambling to his paws and searching for the noise. He stumbles when he leans too much weight on his healing paw and smacks his chin against the ground in a not very dignified manner. He whines his frustration, digging claws into floorboards to try and right himself.

Once he gets over his initial state of dumbfoundedness, he manages to get to his feet and keep himself upright. He shakes his head, concentrates, and it doesn’t take more than a second this time to realise the scream came from Master. Max whines, paces the room, searches for sight, sound or smell of threats but finds none. The next keening noise has Max racing over to the bedside as fast as his paws will carry him.

He smells sweat. Master’s tossing and turning, mumbling words Max doesn’t recognise but he makes out the repeated “No”s.

Max whimpers. Paces. Nudges the man’s hand. He doesn’t know what to do. Nudges again. No response. Whimpers again. Whimpers louder.

Not knowing what else to do, he backs up. Crouches. Jumps up on the bed. Makes his way up to lick his Master’s face, continues to whimper.

There’s a sharp inhale when the man freezes. Max whines again.

Slow exhale. “Max, get off.”

Max pretends not to hear him. He tucks himself between the man’s arm and side, sighs loudly and makes it known the dog has no intention of leaving. Master sighs, runs his hand down the length of the dog’s back and goes back to sleep.

XXX

The next morning, the man wakes up on the edge of the bed to a snoring dog drooling on his face.

Re: [Fill] A Pair of Fighters (Part 5/?)

[(Anonymous)]

THIS IS THE BEST. POOR BB FRANK BUT MAX IS THERE FOR HIM!!!

Re: [Fill] A Pair of Fighters (Part 5/?)

[(Anonymous)]

OP- these honestly make my day whenever I read them, I'm just too irresponsible with commenting.. I plan out a huge detailed comment in my head and then forget that I didn't actually post it.

I really love how you deal with Frank's PTSD and Max being there for him :3 and Frank trying to play fetch is just too cute. Thank you for everything you've written!

[Fill] A Pair of Fighters (7/?)

[(Anonymous)]

((Still got that damn cold argh. Sorry this update took a while. Next one might be longer too, I've got tests next week.
But here, have some more Max. Max is a sweet dog but his leash manners are terrible XP ))

XXX

Max barks excitedly, presses multiple wet nose prints into the glass of the car door window and paws at the lock. When Master starts up the car, Max nuzzles his hand, glances over at the window eagerly, nuzzles again. He points his muzzle down, ears back, looks up at the man with the biggest set of puppy eyes he can physically handle.

The man smirks, rubs the dog’s snout. There’s an electrical whirring sound.

YES! Yes yes yes yes yes yes-

“Max, don’t jump out.”

Max hears the words but he’s too busy having an absolute blast because the window is down and he can smell EVERYTHING. This is the best day ever.

The dog shoves his big boofy head outside, opens his jaws and lets his ears flap around wildly, tongue lolling from the side of his mouth. He barks at random passers-by to announce how awesome is this?! Master gives the dog an affectionate pat on the shoulders as he rounds the corner.

XXX

There’s no dogs in the new apartment.

Max checks, twice, but like the old one he doesn’t find hair nor scent of one.

It’s just a big empty room, almost identical to the old one but with a slightly different layout and less stairs. Less but more dangerous stairs. The second step from the top is half an inch higher than all the other steps. Meaning both dog and Master almost tripped on the way up. As if stairs weren’t hard enough to climb for his short legged self…

XXX

There’s a thump as Master sets down the last of the boxes.

Max yawns. It took all morning to pack up all that stuff so naturally it’ll take all afternoon to unpack all of it, a lot of time he’ll be spending napping on this squeakier, mustier smelling bed. At least, that’s what he thought he’d be doing.

Instead, Master takes a long look around the room, at the boxes and windows before his eyes drift over to the dog, laying down with his paws over the side of the bed. When their eyes meet, Max raises his head, wags his tail curiously. And then Master smiles.

“Come on Max, let’s go for a walk.”

The bed squeaks as Max leaps off.

XXX

Max isn’t sure where Master’s taking him. Usually when he’s put on a leash it means they’re headed for the next fight. But fights don’t happen during the day. Or outside. On the street. With no other dogs.

He doesn’t dwell on the thought for long because he’s distracted by a half-eaten pizza. Then a funny smell in the grass. A car backfires somewhere. A bell rings, a high-pitched electrical noise, there’s some birds in that tree, and some children playing in the park and an ice cream salesman that he can get to in five minutes if he starts running now.

He’s dragging Master all over the place and he almost feels bad for the man but then there’s a squirrel on the other side of the street so of course he has to go after it. It’s only when Max gets way too enthusiastic in his leash pulling and the dog starts gagging on his own collar that the man reigns the dog back in like a wild fish, sits down on a bench and waits for the dog to calm down.

Calm down time takes a solid twelve minutes.

Max is bouncing around, tangling the leash around Master’s boots and whining loudly whenever someone walks past because why aren’t we going over to say hi?

He does calm down eventually. Apparently Master has a lot more patience than him because he simply keeps a tight hold of the leash and waits until the dog stops barking at everything that breathes and lies down, head between his paws and breathing out a long huff. He gets a light head pat and a treat for that.

A few more treats and pats and Max starts to get a hint. They’re not going to go anywhere unless he’s calm. This idea confuses Max, the old Masters liked it when he fought against the leash and put on a great show. But he doesn’t care about the old Masters right now.

When they leave the bench, Max doesn’t bolt as soon as the man gets up. He still sniffs at everything he can but the leash stays slack. Max has to admit, the lack of tension is nice.

[Fill] A Pair of Fighters (8/?)

[(Anonymous)]

((Longer chapter :D Was initially going to be even longer but what the heck, have some fluff))

XXX

As it turns out, not pulling on the leash is great. Mainly because he gets treats when he does it right. The thing is though, he gets even more treats when he ‘fixes a mistake’. So Max starts pretending to correct himself, purposefully walking ahead of the man at first before ‘realising what he’s done’ and trotting back over to the man’s side.

Max isn’t one to judge but it takes Master an embarrassingly long time to figure out Max’s plan.

XXX

There’s a building that smells like other dogs.

Max is practically foaming at the mouth in anticipation, sniffing around in front of the store and tracking the many different canine scents. He’s been waiting for this. It was only a matter of time. And Max is prepared to put up one hell of a fight. He won’t lose this time, he won’t. So even as Master begins reigning in the leash, he’s searching around, wanting to see his opponent first before they see him.

A bell chimes as the door opens. Scents flood his nose and Max keeps searching. He takes in a deep breath, pauses as he tries to analyse them.

He’s almost overwhelmed by the scents. Yes, there’s canine there but there’s also cat, mouse, bird, fish, hamster, snake- Too many.

Shaking his head, Max sneezed, sticking his nose to the ground as he concentrates on dog.

If Max could, he would be frowning right about now. The canine scents are old, passing. They probably didn’t stick around for more than an hour, most of them are over two days old. And the only canines that are here right now besides him…

When Master drops the leash, Max makes a beeline for the crate next to the counter. If he could, his frown would be wider.

Max doesn’t fight puppies.

Well, he could. But he won’t. Puppies get a ‘puppy pass’. Some dogs will kill puppies but that’s generally frowned upon (figuratively speaking of course). And Max doesn’t like being frowned upon.

He’s still sniffing at the pile of fluff balls when one of the sleeping poodles wakes up. He blinks as a tiny muzzle reaches between the wires of the crate to lick his nose. Max huffs.

Pfft. Kids.

XXX

It’s three minutes after entering the store that a young woman rushes from the back room.

Max wasn’t really paying attention, busy poking at the puppy that was trying to bite his nose when he realised someone was talking to him in a high pitched voice. Max has to pay attention because Max is a sucker for a happy high pitched voices.

An absolute sucker.

So when she says “Hi there Max!” the dog’s a wiggly ball of happy noises and tail wags and of course Max is going to milk the excited puppy routine when she’s giving him head pats and treats.

“Aww, aren’t you a sweetie?”

Yes. Yes he absolutely will be one if it means he can get more treats. Whatever a ‘sweetie’ is, it can’t be a bad thing. Tou don’t say bad things in a happy voice. Max rolls over onto his back when she crouches down for belly rubs.

XXX

When the humans start talking, Max takes that as his cue to start exploring the rest of the room. He still keeps an ear on them though. This is the first time he’s seen Master interact with another human.

There’s a cage full of brightly coloured birds. They’re on a cupboard, too high for Max to reach without getting up on his hind legs. Max does just that, and the chirping grows louder when he paws experimentally at the cage’s lock.

”…I’m Hannah!… What can I do for you?...”

The rats are more interesting. They’re behind a glass casing, some scrabbling back, some curiously peering at him and the majority ignoring his big face pressing up against the tank. This tank also looks difficult to get into so he loses interest when he realises he won’t be able to chase any.

”… out of dog food. What can you tell me… Dog training books too?...”

Snakes. Snakes are boring. At first Max thinks the enclosure is empty but he spots the reptile curled up in a ball not doing anything. Snakes look like they’d make very boring prey.

Max glances over his shoulder at the two humans. The woman (Hannah?) is leaning over the counter. Obviously interested. Master’s got a smirk in his voice. Hah. Sly old dog.

”… Name’s Frank by the way…”

Max is prodding at the lock on the lizard enclosure when he hears it.

Name. Frank. Master’s name is Frank. That’s nice to know. Humans don’t tend to introduce themselves to dogs so Max has gone his whole life without knowing the names of some of his old Masters. Which he’s okay with, if a little confusing (it’s hard to keep track of them and he’s mistaken one human for another on a few occasions… It’s not his fault, they sometimes smell alike). Favourite Master is Master Frank. Frank Master. Frank. Just Frank.

”… You’ve got your high end stuff over here… Taste of the Wild, your Canidae… pricey… between you and me… anything purina is utter…”

Fish tanks line the walls from floor to ceiling. A few of them are low enough to the ground he barely has to look up to peer inside. He spends a decent amount of time staring at each one, mesmerised by the many little moving flashes of silver and colour. Max waits until the humans aren’t looking to lap up a big gulp of water.

”…lotta information…”
“… always welcome to…”

There are some… things hanging on metal racks. Furry things. They’re not alive but they don’t smell dead either. Curiosity wins over and he noses one. Nothing happens. Noses it again. Nothing. The fluffiness of the thing makes him want to pick it up so he does just that.

A loud QUAAACK has Max immediately dropping the cursed furry thing and contemplates running to safety behind human legs. He doesn’t, but he does flatten the furry thing with a paw. There’s another QUACK. And another when he squishes it again.

“Max?”

Max picks up the furry thing and shakes until its fluffy white insides rain around him.

“… I’ll pay for that.”

XXX

Max ends up carrying a rubbery circular squishy thing with him around the store (it smells like the things cars roll on but miniature! And squishy! And fun to bite!). Master, Frank, lets him keep it. Along with a bunch of other miscellaneous items; there are three of those furry things on the counter and Max is looking forward to an afternoon of killing all of them. He ends up greeting the litter of puppies again when the humans start talking again, and while he’s there Hannah hands him another treat.

There’s the crinkle of plastic as Frank turns something over in his hands.

“Those are Bully Sticks. They’re very popular with dogs that like to chew.”

“What’s it made of?”

“It’s a dehydrated bull’s ah… actually on second thought, we have deer antlers too. They last a lot longer. Rawhides and Pig ears should last him a good thirty minutes though.”

“I’ll take one of each of those.”

“Great! Your total comes out to…”

XXX

Max is still holding onto the round thing when they leave the store. Frank has a big bag of dog food slung easily over his shoulder and several plastic bags full of treats, books and things Max is probably also going to eat. He’s looking forward to that.

[Fill] A Pair of Fighters (Part 9/?)

[(Anonymous)]

((Sorry for the delay with this chapter, it ended up being longer than I thought.))

XXX

Over the next few days, Master takes Max on several ‘walks’, as he’s come to know them as.

Frank takes him on two walks a day, once in the early morning when the sun was barely up and once in the afternoon right before Master goes off to do whatever it is humans do at night (it involves guns. A lot of guns. Max is starting to think Frank has a hoarding problem). With it, comes a bunch of new commands to learn.

‘Heel’ he learns quickly. He just has to glue himself to Frank’s flank (left side unless indicated otherwise) and sit when he stops walking. The word command’s paired with a simple hand movement- the man patting the side of his calf, at which point Max happily trots up and slams his hip against his leg with more far enthusiasm then is necessary.

‘Sit’ is stupidly easy. Butt on floor. That’s pretty much it. It’s paired with the word or a hand raised with palm facing away from Max. From there he learns ‘down’, another easy one, with palm facing down and arm horizontal to the ground. All he has to do is make sure his belly’s touching the ground and remember that includes his hindquarters.

‘Stand’ is the reverse of ‘down’, with arm moving up and palm upwards. Max just needs to get up from whatever position he was in before. He picks these up fairly quickly and this time it’s Frank who’s being unnecessarily enthusiastic.

Now ‘stay’… ‘Stay’ is a hard one. It seemed simple enough; it’s matched with a palm held up, facing him and just means don’t move from whatever spot you’re in. Of course, that’d be a lot easier if Frank would stop throwing toys and treats past his face to distract him. It’s a mean thing for Frank to do. But Max is a smart dog and doesn’t fall for his tricks. He turns his nose up as the squeaky fluffy thing flies past his snout (well, what’s left of it after one fated afternoon of boredom) and doesn’t so much as glance at his favourite victim toy.

Of course, once he mastered ‘Stay’, Frank had to go and try teaching him ‘Leave it’. ‘Leave it’ doesn’t have a hand signal. ‘Leave it’ sucks. It’s a stupid command. While ‘Stay’ means he just ignores things around him, ‘Leave it’ means that if he’s already going after something he needs to stop going after it, despite already having it on his mind. And that’s stupid because if something falls on the floor it’s his anyway. Why delay the inevitable? Plus he’s all riled up and excited and honestly Max doesn’t see how ‘Leave it’ is important. Still, when Frank drops a treat on the ground and tells him not to eat it, Max begrudgingly obeys because he’s a good dog. Being a good dog sucks.

Frank’s favourite command is ‘Speak’. Max isn’t sure why Frank finds it so entertaining but it is a fun one for Max to do. He gets to bark. He gets to bark loud. Repeatedly. At first the command was paired with an opening and closing hand but it got more complicated later on. Instead of ‘Speak’, Frank started asking questions that the dog didn’t understand, but that didn’t matter because Max was just listening for the man’s tone.
“Max, what’s one plus two?”
Max barked three times, on the third bark Frank would break eye contact and Max would go silent. It’s a very subtle movement so Max has to concentrate, just the slightest darting of the eyes, but he never misses his cue and Master always looks so amused afterwards.

Max personally, likes ‘Shake’. Hand comes out, Max slaps his paw in the open palm. Max opens his mouth. Max gets a treat. Simples.

XXX

Obeying the commands on walks is a lot harder with all the distractions but Max manages. He sits, he heels, he shakes with some people, speaks for others. Max finds children in particular really like shake, which is great because Max loves shake and Max loves children.

Tiny humans are great. They can be loud and grabby but they also smell like cookies and dirt. They’re generous in their hug and pat giving and are equally as generous when it comes to food sharing. And they always sound so happy. One of the Old Masters had a little girl. “Honey” Max reminds himself. Honey was a sweet child, scared of some of the other fighters but she snuck Max bites of ice cream and lollipops and Max always looked forward to guarding her when the other Masters were away. Children are great.

So of course when out on a walk and they stumble across children, Max is happy enough to give the cooing mini humans a friendly tail wag and a paw shake. Although he notices Frank acts strangely around them. Max isn’t sure what it is; he senses a slight shift in his Master’s behaviour but he can’t pinpoint what it is exactly. Uneasiness. Hesitation. Fear? No, not quite. Whatever it is, Max takes the hint and doesn’t drag the man over to any happy children no matter how much he wants to.

XXX

It happens on one of their walks.

Max and Frank are on one their usual afternoon route, the one before Master stalks off into the night to do mystery activities. Max is in a near perfect heel, keeping in time with the man’s steps and trying not to accidentally trip him (it’s happened a couple of times. Max insists on making sure a part of him is always touching the man’s leg). Streetlights are beginning to flicker to life. Fewer and fewer people walk the footpath. Max notices their decent paced jog has become more of a relaxed stroll and he adjusts his own gait to match.

He’s concentrating so hard on keeping in pace that the sudden jerk of the leash throws him off and makes him yelp in surprise. The man’s shortening his leash, winding it around his hand and tightening his grip on the leather.

Frank’s not one for sudden leash corrections, there’s always a warning first. So when Max is abruptly pulled behind his Master’s legs he’s even more confused, fumbling around as he tries to figure out what’s happening.

There’s a bark.

A flash of yellow fur.

The scent of dog hits his nose and flicks a switch in his mind. He whips into attention, ears forward, head high, muscles tense. Collar strains against his chest and he tries to manoeuvre around the legs obscuring his view. He vaguely hears the shout of a command but he ignores it.

There’s a loose dog running towards them.

Max whines in anticipation, barking, fighting against the leash. His opponent’s a Labrador. Taller and heavier than him but soft. Dopey. Weak bite. Where Max ripples with muscle the other male rolls with fat. Soft. Weak. Loser.

The Labrador’s acting friendly. Tail wagging, play bowing, trying to get in close for a sniff and batting with large paws. Friendly.

Max isn’t a fool. He knows this is a lie. Dogs aren’t friendly to each other. The only dogs that are are mates or parent and child. And even then there are exceptions. Some males could care less about females, some females will kill overly insistent males. Once puppies come of age they regularly best their parents in the ring. Siblings develop a strong hatred for each other once they reach maturity. He’d lost to a littermate once, beaten another. A dog’s friendliness is only for humans. So when the Labrador tries to get close to his face - too close - he bears his teeth and aims for the throat.

His teeth click at empty air as he’s lifted upwards.

Max squirms against Master’s grip, digging claws into the man’s forearms to try and wriggle free. The Labrador jumps up to try and sniff him.

“Put your dog on a leash!”

Master’s shouting. Angry. That riles Max up even more.

“It’s alright, he’s friendly!”

There’s a wet nose just to his left. Max snaps at it but something fleshy intersects him. He lets go immediately because you don’t bite humans. He squirms to get free again. Why is Frank holding him back?

“And he isn’t!”

“Just put him down, let them say hi.“

The leash winds around his muzzle. Max shakes his head to try and free himself. It’s a futile attempt so he turns his snarl audible. The other dog recoils for a half second, unsure.

“Marley! Marley come!”

The Labrador ignores his Master’s calls. It’s not until Frank pretends to rush the dog that it goes scampering back to his human’s side with his tail between his legs.

There’s a lot of shouting between the humans. Mostly from the other dog’s human, but Max ignores it, trying to free himself from Frank’s grip. Why doesn’t Frank put him down? Max can take this dog. Max can take this dog easily. It’ll be over in seconds. Does Frank not trust him? Does he think Max will lose? Max won’t lose. He just needs a chance to prove it. Just ten seconds.

The shouting gets louder. Loud enough that for half a second, Max’s instinct to attack the other dog is overridden by his need to protect his Master. He directs his next snarl at the other human.

Silence. The other man stumbles before dragging the Labrador (or rather, the dog drags him) away, grumbling loudly about a ‘crazy mutt’ and ‘fucking pit bull owners’. Max recognises his gesture to Frank as one that usually gets humans angry. His Master remains calm so Max is angry for his sake, snarling louder and watching the other dog and man quicken their pace.

XXX

Frank doesn’t set Max down until the other dog is well out of sight.

When he does, Max rushes in the direction the other dog had gone but is yanked back by a taut leash. He paces, whines.

He remains amped up for the rest of the walk, to the point the walk has to be cut short.

XXX

When he’s let back into the apartment, Max paces the room. He stops in front of the door, whining, scratching and pawing at the door frame, wondering if maybe that was a meeting. The real fight will happen here? He needs to be ready.

So he keeps pacing, listening, waiting. He listens for the click of claws, the huff of a panting breath. A bark of anticipation.

Instead he hears the familiar creak of metal. Med kit? Max didn’t get to fight, why’s-

Blood.

He sniffs again.

Frank’s bleeding. When did that…?

He slowly pads over to the table, whining softly and head lowered. There are small puncture marks on Frank’s arm. It’s not a deep or serious wound, barely bleeding but Max is nonetheless angry. He could’ve sworn he was watching his opponent the entire time. When did this happen? When had he failed to protect his Master? Why hadn’t he noticed? Dogs that bite humans are the worst.

Max rests his muzzle on Frank’s calf. He tries to reach over and lick the wound but Frank stops him by scratching at his ears, running fingers along the length of his snout.

“You’re all right Max.”

He failed to win.

“You’re all right. We’ll keep working.”

He failed to protect his Master. Max huffs, whining again.

“Max, do you want a treat?”

He ignores the offered jerky.