DOGWALK

“GRAB ME BY THE COLLAR; LEASH LAWS BITCH, I’LL FUCKIN’ MAUL YA. I’M AN OLD DOG BITCH, I’LL SHOW YOU TRICKS YOU’VE NEVER SEEN BEFORE!”

“You gotta keep your arm straight - none of this bending, it won’t get y’anywhere.” The gloved hand on their shoulder makes Featherhopper tense, but as Sheriff brings their other hand to straighten their hold on their water-gun they relax. With a noise of confirmation from the toon behind them, they press down on the trigger with a slight hesitation; the blast connects with the paper they’d stuck to a nearby tree in the clearing, and it flutters to the ground. Featherhopper huffs, accomplished.

“Good.” Sheriff picks the sheet up and crumples it into a ball, throwing it aside, “In th’ heat of battle you don’t want any of that dilly-dallying, just pick a target and shoot.”

“Mhm.”

“Could be the difference ‘tween you getting killed by those freaks in there, y’know.” They jerk their head towards the way Featherhopper had come, eyes narrowing.

“..I know.”

“Good lad.” Sheriff nods and gives Featherhopper a reassuring pat on the shoulder, ignoring how the dog instinctively raises their hackles and looks away from them. They take the gag from their hands and pocket it, reminding themselves to bring something stronger later - Featherhopper has no chance of surviving out here with a measly water-gun.

There’s a moment of silence, both of them knowing what came next - Sheriff didn’t want to ask, they wanted to pretend they didn’t care; that Pebbles could do whatever the hell she wanted and they didn’t give a damn. But what if she wasn’t okay? What if she’s finally changed her mind and they can find her and get her out and everything can be fine again? They open their mouth to speak, but Featherhopper goes first.

“I haven’t heard anything.” The words tumble out of their mouth. Featherhopper meets Sheriff’s eyes and swallows, adding a quick, “Sorry.”

Sheriff sighs, unable to hide their disappointment, “S’alright.” They shrug, shoulders sagging, “It’d be a stupid idea to put you both in the same district, anyway. Just.. keep me updated.”

“Of course.”

The invisible toon picks up their belongings - the supplies they’d brought and their usual stock - and gives Featherhopper a curt nod, “Same time next week, then. Hope you’re ready for some real firepower next time.”

Featherhopper smiles, a rare occurrence, and hums in agreement, “Yeah- okay. I’ll see you next week.” Their hands reach to their tie, straightening it and patting down their suit, “And.. Thank you. For this, I mean.”

“It’s nothin’.” Sheriff lies. Every night they meet here fills them with hope - that they’ve finally found a way into this horrible company, that they can take it down from the inside-out with Featherhopper’s help. It’s another step closer to finding out where these monsters were keeping their sister, and part of them wants to rush Featherhopper’s training so they can move faster. They glance towards the star-filled sky and turn their back to the blue canine, “Stay safe, Hopper.”

And Featherhopper stayed safe; a little too safe. Sheriff could tell the second they met up the next week - there was a new softness in their eyes, the way the corners of their mouth got caught in a smile when Sheriff mentioned the suits in that logging company Featherhopper was stuck in, it all made Sheriff feel sick. It couldn’t happen again, they couldn’t lose another one to these god-forsaken bots, there had to be some way to bring Featherhopper back - there had to be.

Featherhopper had been distracted the entire night, so when Sheriff stated, “We’re raiding the logging company tomorrow.” The brief silence - Featherhopper staring back the way they’d come - almost pushes them to slap them across the face. Sheriff wants to scream, tell them how stupid they’re being, that there’s not a single suit in that building that has even the smallest shred of sympathy for them, but they purse their lips and wait.

The toon in front of them perks up as the words register, and their head slowly turns to face Sheriff - brows furrowed in confusion and worry.

“..What?”

Sheriff’s tone is steely when they reply, “You heard me, Hopper. I want you out here tomorrow at noon - I’ll bring the stock, you bring.. Yourself. We’ll go straight for the boss, he won’t suspect a thing.” They let out a huff of laughter just thinking about it, but Featherhopper’s growing anxiety is irritating.

They tug on the sleeve of their shirt, “I don’t-.. I mean, now? I don’t think I’m ready.. My boss really isn’t as bad as y-”

“You don’t finish that fucking sentence.” Sheriff’s barking command interrupts them, and Featherhopper flinches at the sudden venom in their voice. Their shaking hands balled into fists at their sides, Sheriff takes a long breath, it leaves them as a sigh as their body relaxes. Their tone is mostly back to normal as they continue, but it sounds taut - holding back that rage at even the implication that suits could be ‘not that bad’.

“You don’t trust a single word anyone in that place tells you, understand?” Featherhopper doesn’t reply and Sheriff repeats, louder, “Do you understand?!”

“..Yeah.” They’re not looking at Sheriff anymore, eyes trained to the ground.

Sheriff’s breathing is shallow, coming out as small puffs of air in the chill around them. They can’t believe this - can’t believe that those freaks had gotten their hands on another one, how Featherhopper had been treated like nothing but shit and now they’re hesitating. How could both of them be so blind?! None of this made any sense, and now Sheriff’s hands are trembling again and there’s a deep growl building in their throat.

In one swift movement they have a hand gripped tightly around Featherhopper’s neck, pulling them close enough to feel Sheriff’s breath against their skin as they snarl, “Every time y’even think that those monsters care for you, I want you to remember what they did. Remember what they took from you.” They demonstrate, tracing the line of scars around the base of Featherhopper’s neck with their thumb.

Featherhopper does not fight back the way they’d been trained - they panic in Sheriff’s grasp, grabbing at their wrist and struggling to pull them away. When Featherhopper’s eyes meet theirs, they mutter a terrified plea, and something clicks in Sheriff’s head - they’ll be of no use tomorrow. In fact…

They let go and Featherhopper crumples, legs giving way and leaving them shaking on the ground. Dirt scuffs their uniform as they scramble to get distance between them, hands grasping at their throat and taking in gulps of air - eyes locked on to Sheriff, expecting the worst. Sheriff had heard good things about what they were like before they disappeared, the sight of them now just made them angrier.

“Go.” Sheriff’s voice is cold, “Be here tomorrow.”

Featherhopper arrives the next day. Featherhopper waits. The sun disappears past the horizon, the evening sky darkening into purples and blues, and yet Sheriff does not arrive. Maybe they’d just been held up - Featherhopper reasons with themselves as they pace back and forth, trying to keep their mind from what they would have to do. They’re reminded of the times when they’d kept themselves hidden away when members of the Resistance would show up - curling up with their hands over their ears and still being able to hear the revving and the screaming and…

They weren’t ready for this.

With another glance at the sky - now dotted with stars - they look towards where Sheriff usually arrived, and hurried back the way they came. They had to hope that maybe it’d get called off if they weren’t there, or maybe Sheriff wouldn’t show up at all - maybe it had all been one big trick, and there’s nothing to worry about, and everything is fine.

Featherhopper climbs back through the window they’d snuck through and everything was not fine.

They hear Chip first - the sound of his chainsaw echoing down the hallway, louder than it was meant to be, but it sounded damaged and overexerted. And they’re already rushing down the hallway - the noise making their head ache - when they hear Sheriff. They’re laughing. They’re alone.

Featherhopper reaches the door and Sheriff’s head swivels, body following sluggishly behind. Despite being invisible, they can tell they’re injured - laboured breaths heaving in their chest, oil and blood spattered across their clothes. They have to ignore Chip on the floor behind Sheriff to keep at least a little bit of dignity, but their heart pounds in their chest and part of them really wants to cry.

“He put up a good fight, but it’s over now.” Sheriff’s voice wavers in a half-laugh as their eyes glance backwards before returning to Featherhopper. They open their arms, dirtied gloves reaching for them, “You can come with me, Hopper. Come with me and we’ll find Pebbles and things can finally go back to normal - for both of us.” There’s a new desperation in the way they speak; they didn’t find any new intel here and their entire team was caught in the crossfire, but this can’t be for nothing - there has to be something here, and saving Featherhopper might be enough.

But the dog shakes their head and all they can say is a quiet, “..No.”

…

“No?”

Featherhopper stays silent - that fear that made Sheriff leave them in the clearing in their eyes again, and they repeat, “NO!?”

“You can’t be serious,” Their body shakes, bringing their arms back to their sides. A hand runs through what Featherhopper assumes is the fur on their head, and they let out a choked laugh, “So, what? You’re gonna stay here? You’re gonna let yourself be ruined by him!?”

Featherhopper opens their mouth but Sheriff continues, “And don’t even start with how he’s ‘not that bad’,” They emphasise, making quotation marks with their hands, and step closer, looming over the cowering toon in front of them, “That monster just tore straight through three good toons, and he was this close to doing the same to me. So if you want to stay stuck here and get mauled, be my gues-”

“Shut up.” Featherhopper hisses. They wanted to yell it, wanted to scream it until everything went away and they could forget this ever happened, but the scars on their neck hurt at the idea. They want Sheriff to leave - please just leave - but instead Sheriff swings at them, their head snapping sideways and a new burning sensation in their face. Before they can react they’re grabbed by the jaw and forced back up, eye-to-eye with Sheriff now.

“Do you have a fucking death wish, Hopper!?” They bark, and their hand moves to cover their mouth as they tilt Featherhopper’s head - narrowing their eyes at those scars again, “This place muzzled you, and you want to stay. I knew you were a little worse-for-wear, but this is pathetic. I’ll get Pebbles out of here, and you can rot away in this shithole and die alone. I hope you’re happy.”

Sheriff jerks Featherhopper’s head back down and rasps, “Last chance.”

And Featherhopper does the only thing they know how to. Featherhopper bites.

The glove is an obstacle, but they feel a crunch and Sheriff pulls away with a shout. A second of silence, and Sheriff mutters, “You bastard.” and they’re at each other's throats.

Any semblance of their training together is forgotten as the two fight like it’s their last - Sheriff pounces and tackles Featherhopper to the ground into a snarling pile, tearing at any handfuls of fur and flesh that they can reach while Featherhopper snaps and flails beneath them. The already destroyed office is wrecked further as they slam into the sparse furniture, catching piles of paperwork that tumble to the floor and scatter everywhere. Sheriff feels claws dig into their arms and knees Featherhopper in the stomach.

They should have the advantage here. Featherhopper is half their strength, and - even with what they’d trained them - they were hardly competent in battle. But Sheriff’s previous fight has exhausted them, their attacks are disorientated and their entire body aches. They falter for just a second and Featherhopper shoots a hand to their neck and pins them, lips pulled back in a snarl.

They have the gall to tease, “You fight like a dog, Sheriff.”

“Shut your filthy mouth.” Sheriff spits back, and the pressure around their neck gets tighter.

They stay silent, keeping Sheriff pinned down while they regain their breath. Then they speak, “You’re going to go back to Headquarters,” Featherhopper’s voice is icy, threatening without needing to raise it, “And you’re going to tell them that everything went fine, and that they never have to come here again.” Their eyes watch Sheriff’s every move as they begin to loosen their grip, “Can you do that?”

“You’re a fucking coward.” Chokes out the toon beneath them, then a breath, and then a, “Fine.”

They’ve switched places when they both get back up - Featherhopper stands inside the office with Sheriff outside, both glaring at each other. Whatever they had formed during their weekly meets has been shattered in the span of one day, and Featherhopper is trying to ignore that gnawing despair that their only contact to the outside world had just tried to kill them.

One side of Sheriff’s glasses is shattered, and they’re hugging themselves - they’d just barely survived the onslaught that was the manager of this building, and Featherhopper had beaten them within an inch of their life. There’s the briefest flicker of bittersweet pride; they had trained them, after all, but it wasn’t meant to end like this. Sheriff was meant to rescue them.

“D’you not miss the Boatyard, Hopper?” Sheriff prompts, it’s a last-stitch attempt, it’s a plea - that this can’t be it, they couldn’t have come all this way for nothing.

“Get out.”

“I met people who knew you before all of this. They miss you, y’know.” It’s a half-lie - the toons they’d talked to had known of Featherhopper, but seemed unbothered by their disappearance, “You can still come with me. Forget all of this ever happened, just-”

“I said-” Featherhopper cuts off their own shout - fear flashing in their eyes for a moment - before they sigh, folding their arms and looking away, “Just go, Sheriff.”

“..Okay.”

And Sheriff leaves. Featherhopper watches them disappear, and then it’s silent. For a long moment they simply stare at the door, the last few hours playing back in their mind, wondering what they could have done differently, maybe then everything wouldn’t have ended so catastrophically. They could’ve told them no - that they weren’t ready and that they shouldn’t even attempt the raid, they could’ve told Chip, they could’ve never snuck out in the first place, never talked to Sheriff at all.

They could’ve stayed at home during the storm.

..This room isn’t going to clean itself.