The Potential Protege - DoC

Featuring as Maxwell, and as Valentine



Maxwell:

It had been a week since he’d ran away from his home. The now teen dog was beginning to get thin, his ribcage beginning to show through his thick, fluffy fur. Maxwell wandered aimlessly through dark alleyways and piles of rotting garbage. I must be close to that place Ma told us about</i> The Border Collie mix thought, his tail between his legs and jumping at even the sound of rat claws scraping on the hard dirt.

It was a particularly cold evening. The sun was beginning to set and storm clouds were forming overhead. With a loud rumble, Maxi cowered as hard droplets of rain plummeted down to the earth. “I gotta find some cover” The young dog whimpered, urging his paws into a light run, despite his exhaustion and hunger. The rain quickly soaked Max to his skin, his thick, fluffy fur now wet, and heavy.

After a short run, Maxwell came across a little makeshift shelter. It looked like an abandoned car bonnet. Upon entering, the smell of exhausts and gas made the pup wrinkle his nose in disgust. Covering his nose with his paw, he lay down, curling up in a desperate attempt to keep warm. He trembled, from both the cold and his emotions. “Why did I run away? I just shoulda stayed with the mean girl!” The mix pup broke out in a sob, “I miss my Ma”.

Valentine:

White claws clicked and scraped quietly on the dry, gravelly earth; a wraith-like figure glinted against the darkening grey of the sky. The soft jingle of bells wafted across the area on the growing wind. The air was beginning to smell like Autumn, and the sweet fragrance of rain was heralding its arrival. Valentine didn’t mind Autumn, but he knew it was the precursor to winter, which was always the hardest time of year for the junkyard. His nose crinkled slightly at the thought. Sure enough, cold droplets began to fall, slowly plastering his thick white coat to his body.

He was walking around the Southern border of the Junkyard territory, as he often did. Valentine had eyes and ears everywhere, but he believed that sometimes seeing everything for himself was the best way to ensure that everything was as it should be.

He stopped suddenly in his tracks when he heard a muffled sob coming from under the scrapped hood of a car. Sobbing is not something that a Junkyard dog would often be caught doing, and even stranger was that the voice seemed to be that of a pup’s, another rare thing in the territory.

He quietly stepped in the direction of the twisted sheet of metal, ears pricked forward, his silvery eyes devoid of external emotion. He lowered his head to peer under the hood, and under it he found a soaked, quivering young juvenile. A border collie mix, it seemed.

He didn’t take kindly to outsiders encroaching on Junkyard territory. A full-grown dog would have been a much darker fate at Valentine’s paws, but a young and moldable youth was another thing entirely.

His vacant expression gave way to a soft, nurturing one, ”Now what are you doing out here all alone?”

Maxwell:

Above his muffled cries, a delicate, song-like sound caused Maxi’s ears to prick, his muzzle raising in question. It...sounded like a bell, like the bell’s he sometimes heard on cat collars. No cat would be out in this rain!

Then the sound of claws scraping. Louder than before, signalling a heavier animal. Max pushing himself into the very back of his sanctuary, the darkness engulfing him. Trying to quieten his sobs, his muzzle snapping shut, as four large white paws appeared in front of him.

Max held his breath as the paws slowly bent down. Was this one of the famous, murderous dogs of the Junkyard his mother told them stories about? Was this going to be the end of his short life?

The face of the dog appeared. It was a terrifyingly angelic face, pure white and clean besides the rain. Surely this couldn’t be one of those dogs, but he did have a certain aura about him, one Maxwell couldn’t put his paw on.

The face suddenly turned soft and kind, at the drop of a pin, and it worked, Maxi instantly felt calmer, more welcomed. ”I-I r-ran away fr-from home” The pup stuttered through his shivering, “P-please d-don’t hurt me m-mister!” The mix breed cowered underneath the dog’s icy gaze, trying to be as small as possible.

Valentine:

”Now, now, I’m not going to hurt you, young one,” the soft curl at the corners of his mouth widened to a reassuring grin. His voice was honeyed, animated, but not patronizing as he feigned a soft gasp of concern, ”You’ve run away from home, have you, whatever caused you to do that?”

He shifted his weight slightly so that an extended conversation with his head craned downward would be more comfortable. He made a mental note to wag his tail, to further diffuse the little pup’s fear. The look of fear on a dog’s face usually instilled Valentine with a sense of satisfaction, but he banished the thought as the potential plans for this young dog whirling through his mind required him to gain his trust.

”My name is Valentine,” he introduced, his cold silver eyes betraying something dark in his otherwise warm expression. ”What is yours, young sir?”

Maxwell:

Maxwell’s floppy ears perked up slightly at the older dogs comforting words, and he slowly crawled out of the darkness so he was closer to the white dog. “I got t-taken away f-from my Ma...and g-given t-to a m-mean girl!” The red and white pup sobbed, his head once more falling to his paws, his whole body shaking.

Maxi peeped out through his teary amber eyes at the shepherd mix. Frozen eyes met his and that sent a shiver through the young dog’s body for a whole different reason than the cold rain. He cowered slightly once again, but managed to regain himself quicker this time, edging closer to the older dog. This was a nice dog! Much nicer than some of the stray’s he had met on his short time on the streets! So why did he feel so...intimidated?

“It’s M-Maxwell. Nice t-to m-meet you sir” Max dipped his head in greeting, the same way Ma had shown him how to greet others.

Valentine:

”I’m sorry to hear that, Maxwell,” he nodded. Valentine despised humans, he had every belief that the young dog’s master had betrayed him like he’d said… that was the human way, as far as he was concerned.

”Well, I hardly think that a piece of scrap metal out in middle of no where is a decent shelter for a strapping young lad such as yourself. How about you come with me? I can get you food, and you can stay with me. I love in the Junkyard not far from here,” he urged.

He huffed a small chuckle, winking, ”We’re not as terrible as they say, you know.”

He knew the Junkyard’s reputation preceded it in the other packs in the area, especially among the farm dogs, whom this pup strongly smelled of. The pup seemed open-minded enough, though. He could make an effective Junkyard dog yet. He tipped the twisted chunk of metal back a few inches with one paw, so that he could better see the russet pup.

”What do you say- let’s get you dry and fed, and you can meet the family.”

Maxwell:

Cocking his head slightly, the pup emerged from his shelter, coming to stand in front of the white tog, who towered above him. “The J-Junkyard?” He questioned, tail dropping further between his legs. Ma had always told him stories about the dogs who lived there. That you couldn’t trust them, they happily kill you before greet you. But after his experience with humans...the Junkyard seemed welcoming.

Maxwell gave a small smile at Valentine’s light-hearted joke, and nodded in agreement. He would go to the Junkyard with him. “Thank you sir, t-that’s m-mighty generous of you!” Maxi thanked, dipping his head again out of respect and thanks.

Shaking his coat out, the pup nodded again to Valentine, and he followed him back to the unfamiliar territory. He jumped at every slight sound, but felt more at ease with the large white dog next to him. Maxwell’s bright amber eyes looked about in alarm, he could of sworn he saw glowing eyes staring at him, and hear hostile growls at his presence.

Valentine:

”Think nothing of it, Maxwell. Think nothing of it,” He smiled, brushing the young male closer to him him with a scoop of his long tail as they began to walk.

He glanced at the pup from the corner of his eye as they tread slowly in the direction of The Pit. Valentine, and the Junkyard dogs in general didn’t look kindly on pups. They are weak, troublesome, and a drain of their precious resources. Maxwell however, was a perfect age. He was becoming just old enough to be of immediate use, or at least not one more mouth for the nurses to feed and deal with- but he was still young enough to be pliable, moldable in a way that Valentine could sculpt him into something that would be of use to the faction. He’d have to see what he was made of before deciding a fate for the pup, but the possibilities were endless. Valentine did love having a project.

His ears flicked at the sound of his cousins growling at the appearance of a young outsider, clearly they were thinking the same thing he had originally thought. A whelp. Useless. Disposable. He would have to explain his vision for the pup to those he planned to use to help him build something out of the little husky mix. For all anyone knew, this pup may very well end up being something to be disposed of, but not before he was nurtured, evaluated, and twisted. For now, he shot them all a blood curdling death-glance, which instantly silenced the murmurs and growls around them.

When he spoke however, his voice was bright and musical. He spoke more for Maxwell’s benefit that the other dogs… he would fill them in later, ”Cousins, cousins, don’t be like that to our young guest. Surely we of all dogs know better than to turn away a diamond in the rough... Go about your business, and don’t worry yourselves.”

“Don’t mind them, Maxwell,” he assured him, “just as you’ve heard stories about us, they think things about the other packs as well, once they get to know you, all will be well.”

They walked through The Pit and entered Valentine’s Crucible, the circular row of junk heaps that enclosed his abandoned limousine. He motioned to the open door to beckon the pup inside, and followed after. The interior was well-kept and dry, Valentine pulled a blanket from the long, leather seats with his teeth and wrapped it around the rusty pelted pup.

”That should get you dry, now have a bite to eat, Maxwell,” he cooed, revealing his own daily ration for the pup to eat which he had stowed in the empty liquor cabinet.

Valentine never invited other dogs into his limousine, much less to eat his own ration for the day- but he was a chessmaster. This was all an investment with future returns, and he would do it without putting out his fellow cousins. Valentine was many things, but he was actually quite fair towards his faction and the resources they shared. This was his project, and no one else would go hungry that night for it.

Maxwell:

Accepting Valentine’s wordless invitation, he walked almost right underneath the white dog, this dog would protect him. His fur brushed against the shepherd’s white fur, comforting the young dog, like he did with his family.

Looking up at his saviour, Max broke out into a happy pant at his saviour, but it quickly retreated once again. There was just something about the way he looked at him. Almost like he was calculating something… but what? Max decided to shake it off, it was just his mind playing tricks on him.

He watched as the growls were silenced in a single stare from Valentine. It was pretty impressive, maybe he’d teach him how! He watched as the dogs who previously acted hostile were now staring at him with confusion. It was then he noticed none of which were his age.

Valentine’s voice made him jump, not because of it’s tone, but it’s sheer volume and yet bright, song-like tone. Max cocked his head, What the heck is a diamond in the rough?</i> The young dog thought, his simple farm life had not heard of such wording.

As Valentine explained the dog’s hostility, Maxi found himself nodding his head slowly. “That makes sense…”</b> He mused, he’d heard rumours about the Junkyard Dogs - which Valentine was already disproving, so it would only make sense for them to hear rumours about the Farm Dogs, which he in turn could disprove!

Maxwell followed Valentine through the heaps of junk and to a rather flashy looking car, despite the clutter that surrounded it. As the red and white pup jumped inside, the seats hardly gave way to anything plush, they were hard seats, not very comfortable at all, not like the sofa’s and chairs back home…

Max dipped his head as the white mix covered him with a blanket, and presented him with a hearty portion of scrap meats and all sorts. His stomach made a rather loud rumble at the sight of the food. ”Thank you sir” The pup said finally without stuttering from the cold. He took a tentative bite from the heap and couldn’t help but hardly swallow the food. It was dry and tasteless, nothing like what he was used to. But he still appreciated it, he’d rather this food than no food.

Valentine:

Valentine smirked softly at Maxwell’s reaction to the food he was offered. He was gracious, but clearly used to the choice foods that humans fed their dogs. The memory of that would fade quickly, he was sure. Junkyard dogs were glad for what they were able to find, which was often far from the fresh, air-sealed kibble that the Pets and Farm dogs were used to. Every once in a while they could procure the best of the beast out of the butcher’s cuts if they were lucky, but that was far from the norm. He would get used to it.

He nodded at the pup’s thanks with a soft chuckle, and began to move toward the end of the limousine’s long cabin. He scratched at a thick nest of blankets that were nestled on the back seats and climbed up in to them, laying down with a soft grunt.