Autumn Tactics: Introduction
I feel horrible for posting such an awful cliffhanger, but here you go! Just a little hook to get you all interested in reading my new series 
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Scott Newman strolled down the sidewalk of the old Victorian town, paws deep in the pockets of his rugged dark-brown leather jacket and eyes watching his feet. His white fur shone illustriously in the glow of the yellow sun, a slight breeze making the long fur of his mane flow gently. All was peaceful...
...until they showed up.
They were all at least six-foot, their bodies thin and tone, sweat glistening off their dark skin. Despite the chilly weather, the population of the gang was dressed in long, low-riding cargo pants which showed off a good two inches of each one's boxers accompanied by tight-fitting sleeveless shirts of either black or white. The dark-skinned group sauntered down the street with a borderline obscene swagger, shouting curses between every few words in each sentence. It was as if they were making a conscious effort to use the word "fuck" at least twice in every sentence. Scott had seen their type before, and they weren't pretty.
Scott kept his head down, eyes on his feet, and paws in his pockets. He gave them absolutely no reason for them to bother him, but of course, they did anyway.
"Ohhh..." one of the four exclaimed in a loud, obnoxious manner, tapping his friends on the chest one at a time with the back of his hand and gesturing to Scott.
"Well, look what we got here!" the one in the center, obviously the group leader, jeered. He was heavily muscular and wore a black beanie over his shaved head.
"Damn, bro," a third one, the tallest, said, "that freak's got some kinda nice jacket!" Scott rolled his eyes. One would think that people with a decent six-year education would learn to speak proper English.
"What's yo name, freak?" the fourth one, the shortest of the group, asked the white-furred wolf. Scott ignored them and attempted to walk past them. He didn't make it very far before the group tightened in a wall of muscle in front of him. "Hey, ass-freak!" the deep-voiced wannabe-gangster spewed at Scott, "I said, what's yo name?"
Scott looked up and glared at the hoodlum with his piercing green eyes. "Well, it used to be 'Up Yours,' but then I legally changed it to 'Fuck Off'. But in all honesty, either one works well for you guys."
The group burst into laughter. "Bro, dat freak talkin' some kinda smack!" the tallest roared with laughter.
"'eh, guys..." the leader said, the group's laughter starting to dissipate, "what'dya say we show thisfreak who boss?" he smirked. "Grab 'em!"
The two tallest of the group grabbed Scott, one at each arm. "Hey!" Scott shouted, "Get your mother-fucking hands off of me!"
The leader laughed and grabbed Scott's muzzle, partially restricting his airflow and completely silencing him. "'ey, freak," the bad-breathed, dark-skinned jock started, "you gonna regret sayin' those things 'bout us. See here, we run 'dis show, and we don' like no fuckin' pussies like you comin' down t' fuck things up fo' us," he sneered in Scott's face. "Drag 'im back there!" he shouted to his friends, who yanked Scott roughly into an alleyway.
"Don't even think about it- AH!" Scott yelped as his legs were kicked out from under him and he was forced to his knees.
Laughing hysterically along with his three followers, the group leader swaggered to stand in front of Scott, drawing a compact Ruger SP101 from one of the pockets of his heavy cargo pants. The leader smirked and waved the gun around, attempting to instill fear in Scott's mind. He was successful, as could be seen by his slight shivering and wide eyes.
"'ey, freak," the leader started again, "you sure know how to talk some smack, eh?" he cocked back the hammer of the small revolver. "Well, let's see that punk-ass attitude of yours dodge a bullet." He raised the lowered the revolver's barrel, placing it about two inches from Scott's eyes. At that distance, a bullet of that revolver's caliber would drill a hole right between his eyes and probably carve right through his brain and out the other side of his head. If his attacker was allowed to pull that trigger, there was no question about it; Scott would be dead before he hit the concrete. All he could think about was Chris. The thought of abandoning his boyfriend in such a manner made him start to cry. The leader laughed even harder at this and said, "See you on the otha' side, muthafucka!"
"HOLY SHIT, SOMEONE CALL THE POLICE!"
The four wannabe-gangsters and Scott turned in surprise to see a man of about forty years of age standing outside the alley, staring at the scene before him.
"GET THE FUCK OUTA HERE, YOU WHITE MUTHAFUCKA!" the leader yelled at the man, going to raise the revolver at the witness. Scott knew an opportunity when he saw one. With the leader distracted and the gun pointed away from him, Scott lunged up to tackle his attacker, but he was only partially successful. The leader managed to swing around and point the gun in Scott's direction just as soon as the wolf made contact with his dark flesh.
There was a loud CRACK as the trigger was pulled. Scott never completed his action of tackling the leader; his body continued its lunging motion and landed on the pavement. The leader quickly stepped out of Scott's path and the group rushed down the alleyway, laughing and jeering at their victory as they ran from the scene of the crime, leaving Scott's body face-down on the pavement, a pool of blood forming beneath him.
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Will Scott survive his attack, or have these brutal attackers claimed the life of Chris's beloved partner? Will the gang manage to escape, or will they be found and brought to justice? And, most importantly of all, how will Chris react to this violent event? Find out soon, when Chapter I of Autumn Tactics, the sequel to the popular series A Change for the Better, is released!
PS: If you have not read A Change for the Better yet, it is HIGHLY recommended that you do so before beginning to read Autumn Tactics so that a proper background for all the characters and events will be instated.