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Chapter 7.

Linkin turned back around, quickly getting impatient. His heart almost stopped when he heard the gears of the door clicking, a sign that someone on the other side was opening it. The door was slowly pushed open, and a tall, dark brown and black Doberman was standing there without a shirt, only his pants. He was rubbing his eyes, a sure sign that he was just asleep. Micah Cross Monroe, Linkin's father. The thirty seven year old Doberman wasn't that different from his son, if you didn't count the colour. He was about a foot taller than him, so Linkin's head came up to his chest. Just like Linkin though, his eyes were sky blue. Also like his son, he had the same build, he was only slightly muscular.

The pants he was wearing were a nice shade of dark blue, with the colour brightening at the knee caps. But what would catch most of everyone's attention, was the twin 9mm pistols that were holstered on a belt, one on each side of his hips. They were a custom made chrome and black, with tribal markings on the side of the barrels. Also, placed under each barrel, was a small laser attachment, for precise accuracy. Also hanging on the belt lazily was a gold badge which shined in the afternoon light. Micah groaned the bright sunlight slightly harmed his eyes, "Linkin? Why are you banging on the door like that?"

Linkin pushed through his half asleep father, "Dad! Get your shirt on and get the police car ready!"

As soon as the older Doberman heard the urgency and fear in his son's voice, he already had his shirt on with his keys in his paw, "Link, what happened?! What's wrong?!"

Linkin ran upstairs towards his room, "No time! I'll explain on the way!" He entered his room and headed straight for his dresser. Digging through some of its contents, he found what he wanted...A small pocket knife, one that has been used for many things, usually to unlock doors and to unscrew things. Its handle was made out of wood, with silver creating a border around it. He flipped the small hidden blade out from its home, turning it to the side to view it. There were no rust markings or any engravings, just pure, clean steel. He could see his own eyes in the reflection. Closing them, he gently ran his thumb across the edge of the small blade; even though it's been out of use, the knife was still as sharp as ever. Opening his eyes, he flipped the blade back into its home and stuck it into his back pocket, "Just in case." he told himself.

He headed back downstairs and saw that his dad had already left the house and was sitting in his police vehicle. Locking the door behind him, he shut it and jogged towards the car and got into the passenger seat. Micah shifted the gears and went into reverse to back up, "Okay Link, so what the hell is going on and where are we going?"

The black and mahogany Doberman was full of anxiety, so his left foot was jumping up and down, "Alright, just go where I point and I'll explain on the way."

Micah nodded as he followed his son's orders, "I'm waiting."

Linkin was still tapping his foot, "Okay, so you've heard of that human that's going to the school now right?"

Micah, looking around to make sure he wasn't going to hit anyone at the speed he was moving, nodded, "Yeah, I've heard about that. Also that he's some weak and stupid kid since he'd never been to school before. Then again, that's what people are saying."

Linkin was looking around, trying to remember where he and his friend were at. He saw something familiar and pointed to the right. Micah obeyed and did so, the tires screeching since they were driving so fast. Linkin grunted, "Oh trust me dad, this guy is far from stupid, or weak."

Micah glanced at his son then directed his attention back to the road, "How so?"

Linkin sighed, "Dad...he's ...I don't know. I've never seen someone so strong before, and I don't mean just physical strength. Just by having one conversation with him, you feel like he's the easiest person to talk to, about anything." Linkin turned to look at his dad, "You know you can trust him."

Linkin pointed to the left, and Micah turned, "I met him in ROTC class, Commander Aymes had set us up to ambush him."

Micah raised a brow quizzically, "Doesn't that seem kind of unfair and mean?"

Linkin shook his head, "Some of the cadets had seen him fight before. They told the Commander, and he wanted to see what he was made of. I wasn't in the fight, he asked me to observe it with him. Anyway, he kicked their asses, he was ready for more too if the Commander hadn't have stopped him. After some introductions, he got assigned to my platoon. I showed him around, and then the bell rung, so, we said goodbye and we went different directions. I saw him walking by himself, and he was heading in the direction of our house so...I decided to walk with him."

Micah, still focused on the road, chuckled lightly, "I don't understand why you walk to school link, you spent all summer working your ass off to buy that motorcycle, and then you barely use it!"

Linkin closed his eyes, "Sometimes...I just feel like walking, it's relaxing."

Micah nodded understandably, "Oh, okay."

Linkin opened his eyes and sighed, "So, then we became friends and started walking home...until we ran into trouble."

Micah put all of his attention on his son, but only for a quick second, "Oh shit...Link, what the hell happened?"

The Doberman cleared his throat, "We were walking, and this tiger was in our way. We were turning around to go back but instead we found ourselves surrounded by three more men."

Micah interrupted, a little bit of anger in his voice, "He didn't just ditch you, did he?" Micah knew full well that Linkin could take care and defend himself. Since he was gone most of the day, that left the younger Doberman alone most of the time. So Micah put him in several self-defence classes when he was young, and then when he got older, he put him in the ROTC.

Link shook his head, "No, instead we went into a back-to-back position and we fought them."

Micah grunted, "Linkin what the hell were you thinking?! That's four men against two boys!"

Linkin looked at his dad, "Yeah, I know it was stupid...but there was no way out. We had to fight. Everything was going good, until he got hit on the back of the head. I let my guard down just for a second when the tiger clobbered him with a metal pole, but the same thing happened to me, except I was knocked unconscious. The last thing I saw...was him being held down as I was carried away by someone."

Linkin looked at his cell phone for the time, "It's 3:06 pm, so it hasn't been that long, John could still be there." Linkin pointed at a small alley to their right, "Stop the car, it's right over there."

As soon as Micah parked the vehicle, Linkin bolted out the passenger door, with his dad stumbling, slightly behind his son. As Linkin ran through the alleys, he could feel his heart rate increasing due to fear of what might have happened to his good friend...or what might be happening to him at the moment. He turned his head to the side to see if his dad was following him. Micah was right on Linkin's tail, a stern look on his face showing that he was ready, should things might get nasty. The two Dobermans took a couple of turns, using Linkin's memories as a built in GPS, until Linkin stopped suddenly.

At the speed they were running, Micah nearly crashed into his son, "Hey, why'd we stop? What's wro-" Then, it hit him. The air's scent changed drastically, going from the smell of garbage, water and whatever else was in the alley, to a strong, overpowering scent of iron.

Both canines knew what it was, any canine could tell what it was. Blood. But this, this was the strongest smell of blood that either of the two had come across. Even Micah, who had been at gruesome crime scenes throughout his life, had never smelt this scent so strongly before. Linkin softly muttered, "Oh God...please, no..."

Micah's brows furrowed, "Aw shit!"

The smell only caused Linkin to get more anxious (which he thought was impossible at the moment), and the Doberman followed the scent, trying to find its source. Fear quickly consumed his body, trying to figure what could possibly create such a strong scent. He wanted to deny it, but deep down inside, he knew. Something terrible had happened, and he prayed that John wasn't the victim. Finally, they found it, and Linkin felt like collapsing. What he saw before him...was gruesome. There was blood spewed throughout the small street, in small patches, most of it surrounding a crumpled figure. Most was on the floor, and some of it was splatted against the brick walls.

Linkin heard his father shudder a breath, "Oh my God," the older Doberman muttered, "What the fuck happened!?!"

Linkin stuttered, "I...it wasn't l...like this when I was taken away! John...I...I...I've gotta find John!"

Linkin took a step forward, but Micah stopped him by grabbing his shoulder, "Wait."

Slowly, Micah walked ahead of his son, looking around for any movement. Linkin took a deep breath, 'Calm down, John needs you! Get yourself together!' With most of his anxiety gone, the younger canine followed his dad. Linkin was close to blowing chunks, he'd never smelt the scent of blood so strong before, it was overwhelming, and his natural super sensitive nose wasn't helping the problem. Micah looked over his shoulder, "You alright Link?"

Linkin quickly nodded, "Yeah...I'm fine. Just a little difficult to breath with all of this blood everywhere, it's-"

Suddenly, Micah raised his hand, silencing his son. The older canine closed his eyes and focused on his hearing. Sure enough, he heard a small scraping noise, as if something was being dragged away. He pin pointed the direction of the sound. Lightning fast, he spun around, "Duck!" he yelled.

Linkin obeyed and dropped to the floor, regretting it since he landed in dry, clotted blood. All he saw was his dad's feet, so he rolled over and stood up, and held back a gasp. Micah was standing there, both of his pistols pulled out with one arm over the other; both guns turned sideways, a grim expression on his face. Linkin turned his head and looked at his dad's target, and it took him most of his will power to not charge towards it. Sitting on the floor several meters away from them, was the tiger from earlier. He was pretty banged up, clothes ripped and covered in blood stains. But his leg was the thing that attracted most of his attention. Right at the half point, a pure, milky white bone was sticking out, with torn, ripped flesh and fur surrounding it. His fur was matted with sweat and blood, and he was gasping for air. On his forehead, right in between his eyes, were two laser dots.

The tiger spoke frantically, "Don't shoot! Don't shoot!"

Micah sighed and lowered his weapons, "What the fuck happened here you piece of shit?"

The tiger was still gasping, "Like I'd tell you, old man."

Micah walked over to him, fists balled up, but he stopped himself, "Well, I bet you'll tell the judge you sick bastard." He turned around to face his son, "Link, I'm gonna go call this in."

Linkin nodded, "Yeah, I'm gonna stay here." Micah was about to protest, but his son cut him off, "Dad...I'll be fine. Don't worry."

Micah sighed, "...Alright, I'll be right back." Reluctantly, he turned around and ran back in the direction they came from.

As soon as his dad was out of site, Linkin walked towards the incapacitated feline, cracking his knuckles by balling them up on a fist. The tiger noticed, and laughed, "What the hell are you gonna do brat? Why don't you just wait for your little daddy to bring his friends?"

Linkin crouched down so that he was at the tiger's level, 'I need to find out where John's at.' The Doberman took a deep breath, "Where's the human?"

The jungle cat smirked, "Wouldn't you want to know."

Now, Linkin was getting pissed off. His friend could be out there, hurt, and this fucking asshole wouldn't tell him anything. Linkin's lip twitched in aggravation, "You're testing my patience, I'm gonna ask you again...where...is...John?"

The tiger leaned in, his muzzle several inches away from Linkin's, "Fuck...you."

As soon as those words escaped his mouth, Linkin quickly reached into his pocket and brought out his knife, switched the blade, and shoved it into the feline's broken leg. The tiger jumped from the excruciating pain, "Aaauurrrggg!...Fuck!...."

Linkin asked again in a more aggressive tone, "Where's John?"

The tiger began crying, "You...fucking stabbed my leg! Fuck you brat!"

Still holding onto the small blade, Linkin twisted his grasp, causing the knife to dig deeper, "Where the fuck is he?!?"

The tiger yelled in agony and lifted a shaky finger to Linkin's right, "O-over there! He went that way, p-please, get the fucking knife out!"

With his question answered, Linkin stood, "Nah, you go ahead and take it out, I've gotta go get my friend." Linkin began walking in the direction the tiger pointed, leaving the feline to suffer.

While his back was turned, the jungle cat was yelling at him, "Fuck you! You piece of shit! I hope he's dead! You hear me?! Fucking dead!"

The Doberman just stayed focused on his main goal, he couldn't let anything distract him right now. So he left, leaving the pissed off tiger to wait for his dad and the other cops. Once he was out of hearing distance from the tiger, he closed his eyes and focused on his nose. 'C'mon baby, give me something, please.' His nose picked up several scents, scents that he had smelled before, so they weren't special, but he did catch something odd, something new. Something that he'd never smelt before. It smelt sweet, earthy, and had a strong smell of musk. Linkin's eyes shot wide open, "Got you!"

Locked onto the scent, he started jogging. But a couple of seconds later that jog turned into a run, which later turned into a sprint. That's one thing that Linkin loved that he could do. He had the natural ability to lock onto a scent, and follow it wherever it went, no matter how weak it was. If he had the scent, that's all he needed to find whoever he wanted. Minutes went by and he made a turn here and there, but he stopped. He had entered a huge alley, big enough to be a part of a road. The scent, it vanished. Well, it didn't vanish, it just got incredibly weak. He closed his eyes, he could still smell him, but he just needed to be sure that it was John he was smelling, and not something else. In his mind, he saw multiple strings, each one standing for a different scent, and each one owning its own simple colour. There were several ropes, at least ten. Linkin took in a deep breath, 'C'mon... I'm so close! Where are you John... where are you?' In his mind, he walked up to each rope and gently touched it.

One was a sour, sick smell. 'Rust.' Another was a disgusting, rotting smell. 'Dumpster.' He approached a white rope and touched it. Something was different about this one, something unique. It had multiple smells, iron, dirt, sweat. But the last one was what made him confident it was John's rope. Linkin could smell himself, only slightly though. It was from when John had grabbed his shoulders earlier. Putting on a cocky smile, he grabbed the rope and wrapped it around his right arm; he opened his eyes, full of confidence and determination, and a little bit of vengeance. Vengeance to whoever took his innocent friend, someone who doesn't deserve to be hurt in any way. "Gotcha!"

He began sprinting in the direction the rope lead him. He made several turns, slowly getting frustrated since it looked like they were completely random. He could feel his anxiety increasing; he just wanted the rope to end so he could see his friend, who was hopefully alright. Then, he noticed something. The mental rope, it had grown in size. The further he followed it, the thicker it got. Linkin looked up ahead, 'I must be getting close!'

With just the thought of seeing John within the next couple of minutes stuck in his mind, the canine charged as fast as he could, running down streets which had several houses with their own private space. Just as he thought, the rope was getting thicker. Following it, he made a hard right, his paw feet sliding slightly on the asphalt from how fast he was running. He ran, he could feel his heart beating with such strength it was threatening to burst out of his chest.

Finally, he stopped. He followed the rope with his blue eyes, which were quickly set on a house...A rather huge house, with its classic red brick walls and one garage. Sitting just outside the garage was a sleek, expensive looking black sports car. He jogged towards the house, his heart rate never calming down to its average beats per minute. He approached the front of the house, and began to quickly walk towards the door. Suddenly, time seemed to slow down, each step took forever to complete. He could feel sweat falling down the side of his face, slowly dripping and landing on the white, sun scorched sidewalk.

After what seemed like forever, he was finally within arm's reach of the white, ominous looking door. His paws were shaking; in his mind, the white rope was going through the door, a sure sign that John, was in fact inside this house. He shook his head and knocked on the door three times, and then, he waited. He thought it wasn't possible at the moment, but his heart picked up an even quicker pace. The more time that went by, the higher it went. Seconds felt like minutes, and he was growing impatient. There was nothing but absolute silence, and it was beginning to make him anxious. Then, he heard footsteps, from inside the house. Time seemed to slow down once again, and all he heard was his heart.

*Bump bump*......*bump bump*.......*bump bump*......*bump bump.*

Then, it was interrupted by a different noise, the sound of gears clicking. His breathing was incredibly shaky; all he wanted to see was that his friend was okay, that he wasn't hurt. It was like the universe was torturing him, making fun of him as it watched this distressed Doberman show nothing but concern for his new friend. Then, Linkin's eyes widened. Finally, the door slowly opened, and everything went silent in his mind. But what he saw, confused him severely, and shattered his heart, along with his hope...A wolf, a black and white wolf with red streaks on his face.

The lupine looked at Linkin up and down, and then spoke, "Um, can I help you?"

Linkin didn't understand, so he closed his eyes and looked for the transparent mental rope that he'd been following. But what he saw only made him even more perplexed than he already was. The rope stopped at the wolf's body, but it wasn't his scent, Link could tell. He could tell when a scent belonged to somebody; it created an aura around them. There were two colours on him, white (John's), and purple. Just as he expected, the purple created an aura surrounding his body. But the white, was in splotches all over his body. This guy had John's scent all over him! This was him; this had to be the guy! Anger and frustration took over Link's body; he reached out and seized the wolf's shoulders with both of his paws. Then, he aggressively pushed his way through, going inside the house and keeping the lupine in front of him. He slammed him into the closest wall, the force of it shaking it slightly, causing a vase to fall off of its shelf and shatter on the brown, wooden floor.

The wolf grunted and tried to get the intruders paws off of him, "What the hell are you doing you crazy bastard?!?"

Linkin pulled the wolf up, and slammed him against the wall once more, "Where the FUCK is he?!?"

~~~~

John dashed down the hallway and headed for the stairs. He grabbed the top bannister and looked over to see what was going on. What he saw made his heart leap for joy, and stop at the same time. The first thing he registered was Linkin, and he would've been happy that his friend was alright, if he didn't have Marcus pinned to the wall. Marcus grunted and grabbed Linkin's arm, "Get the fuck off of me you mutt!"

Linkin did no such thing, all he did was tighten his grasp on the wolf, "Where is he at you motherfucker?!?" Linkin raised his fist and threw it at Marcus's head.

The wolf's instincts took over, and he jerked his head to the side, barely dodging the powerful strike. As soon as Linkin's fist made contact with the wall, Marcus saw this as an opportunity to counter strike. Since there wasn't enough distance between them so he could raise his fists, he simply cocked his head back, and slammed it into the Doberman's skull.

Linkin staggered back a couple of steps, and saw Marcus charging towards him. He quickly re-composed himself, and dodged the punch that Marcus threw. Years of military training came back to him all at once, and he sent a right hook into the wolf's gut. Marcus gasped, and Linkin was gonna follow up with another punch, but Marcus blocked his left with his forearm. With Linkin's punch being blocked, his right was exposed, and Marcus took his chance. He delivered three quick jabs to Linkin's diaphragm, causing him to gasp and stagger backwards. The two put some space in between them, and both took their own fighting stance.

John just watched in horror as the two people that he'd ever actually cared for, tried to kill each other. He couldn't take it anymore, he had to stop this. Still holding onto the rail, he lifted himself and vaulted over it. He landed in between the two, right in the middle of them. Both launched their own attack, completely ignoring John. Even Linkin was too blinded by rage at the moment to realize who was crouching right in front of him. John quickly stood and grabbed both of their punches, Linkin's left, and Marcus's right in mid-air. Just as he did earlier that day in the alley, he crossed their paws over his head, spun around, and threw them, "ENOUGH!"

The throw caused both furs to flip and hit the wooden floor, the force of both their weight causing the house to shake slightly. Both of them were groaning on the floor, both trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. John slowly stood, but felt a burning, searing pain erupt within his body. It felt like a shock wave, starting at his legs, and slowly moving its way up, as if torturing him with the unpleasant feeling. He was only standing for about half a second, before he fell to one knee, his right hand clutching his chest. That last action had spent energy that he couldn't afford, and now he was paying the price. He started gasping for air, fuck, and even breathing hurt! He tried to stand again, but the pain was too much, and he fell back down to the floor, "Nnghh!... my... body!"

Linkin and Marcus were still sitting on their asses, both still dazed from their surprise throw. Linkin was the first to come to, shaking his head, he got his head together. The first thing he saw was John on the floor, one hand on the wood to keep him from lying flat on the ground. Linkin jumped to his feet and ran to his friend, "John!" He crouched next to him and wrapped one of his arms around his neck, and quickly tried to pull him on his feet, "C'mon! We gotta get the hell out of here!"

Now, John was confused. He tried to reply as Linkin slowly dragged his body towards the door, but before he could, Marcus came out of nowhere and blocked their path; his arms sprawled out across the door. The wolf snarled, breathing heavily, "Let. Him. Go."

John could feel a low, deep growl emanating from Linkin's chest, "Over my fucking dead body! What kind of fucked up person are you? You beat him up just 'cause he's human? Bullshit!"

Now, John understood what was going on here. Linkin's got the wrong idea, and now, he needed to set him straight, before anyone got hurt. So, he mustered up what remaining strength he had, and pushed himself away from Linkin. He staggered a little bit, but eventually stood. At the same time, Linkin and Marcus made a dash for John, both trying to protect him from what they thought was the enemy, but John stopped them both by raising his hand, "Calm the fuck down!"

Immediately, both teens stopped in their tracks, perplexion written all over their faces. John took a deep breath, "First of all, Linkin, I'm glad you're okay. But he isn't the enemy, he's my friend."

Marcus shuddered and silently sighed, hearing John say that one word, removed most of the guilt that was burdening him. Then, something hit him, "Wait John... THIS is Linkin?! This is the guy that helped you?!".

Linkin growled again, this time more aggressively, "What's it to you? Motherfucker."

Marcus snapped back, "Fuck you, mutt!"

Linkin began to stalk forward, but John stopped him, "Linkin, stop! He's my friend, without him, I probably wouldn't be here. Him and his dad, they saved me."

A confused look came across the Doberman's face, "Wait... Saved you? This is their house? So, where do you live?" With all this questions flooding his head, the canine received a headache, "John... what the hell is going on?"

The human sighed and looked at Marcus, his green eyes holding one question. 'Should we?' Marcus saw this, and shook his head franticly, "No... No way John. You just met this guy! How do you know you can trust him?"

John closed his eyes, "Marcus, after everything I put him through, it's the least I could do. He deserves to know."

Marcus sighed in disappointment and defeat as John walked over to Linkin and placed a hand on his shoulder, "Ok Link... I'll tell you everything."

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Linkin Monroe belongs to the user Linkin Monroe. Please do not use his character without his permission. Thanks a million Link, you're an awesome guy!

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Edit performed on 24/12/2011 as a gift by RuthofPern, at Madfire's request.