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ddk_mod ([personal profile] ddk_mod) wrote in [community profile] daredevilkink2016-03-16 07:01 pm
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Daredevil Prompt Post #10

THIS POST IS CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS.
HEAD OVER TO PROMPT POST #11.

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

(Anonymous) 2016-04-28 04:02 pm (UTC)(link)
((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.

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

(Anonymous) 2016-04-28 08:36 pm (UTC)(link)
NOOOOOOOOO THIS IS SO SAD POOR BBY

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

(Anonymous) 2016-04-28 11:02 pm (UTC)(link)
A!A: Gotta get worse before it gets better :(