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'But why him? I don't get it.'

A blue fox and a white tiger were standing on a dark street at night-time.

They were both about eighteen years of age, both looking a little uncomfortable and uneasy in the dark, silent street. The street was empty, save for the odd rat, which scuttled out of an alley, and vanished again almost instantly, frightened by the orange glare of the electric lamps that filled the street with a dim, murky light.

Both were shivering slightly, as their attire was quite unsuitable for such a cold night. The tiger was wearing a tight-fitting short sleeved black T-shirt, and had a pair of black fingerless gloves. His face was painted, daubed with red and green stripes, and anyone who had seen him would have guessed that he had come from a party, or was going to one.

The fox was dressed in a stripy polo shirt and was wearing a small pair of spectacles. The lenses in them were small and square. He was wearing white trainers and brown combat trousers. He looked like the son of a wealthy middle-class businessman, and looked completely out of place in the grimy, dank street.

The building they were standing outside was a run-down bar, with diamond-patterned windows held in an iron frame. A thick layer of grime covered each little diamond of glass, making it impossible to see into the bar. The door of the bar was made of heavy wood, with metal studs inserted into the wood at regular intervals. Loud music with a heavy beat could be faintly heard from beyond.

The bar gave off an unfriendly, dangerous feel, and many people would have simply passed it by, hoping that some drunk bull wouldn't stagger out as they passed and try to attack them. It was obvious that the fox was one of these, and privately, the tiger was too.

'We're here, and you want to wimp out now?' the tiger replied, annoyed. 'I'm freezing in this stuff, AJ. What are you scared of? You'll be completely out of the way if something bad happens. The barman won't look twice at you, you're just a random nerd who turned up for a drink.'

The fox, AJ, still looked mutinous.

'I'm not chickening out, Logic I'm just saying that there are plenty of other gullible pricks milling around, and this guy is more violent than almost any of them. If it gets into a fight, I can handle myself, but why did you pick him in the first place? Plus, I don't want anyone remembering my face after something like this.'

'He won't remember you, I promise. You've dyed your fur, you're wearing different clothes, you're wearing glasses and you brushed your headfur for once. This guy's not the sharpest knife in the drawer; he won't suspect a thing. And he certainly won't remember you. If he notices the dye, he'll just think you're at a party or something.'

AJ scratched his cheek, irritated by the itchy blue dye.

'I know, I know. But why, man?'

Logic decided to tell him. He had kept it to himself, preferring to keep the reason hidden. Chivalry was not a particularly popular character trait down in the anthro slums, and he knew he'd get teased by AJ if he told.

'You know the Danielsons?

AJ nodded.

'Those hot twins? What do they have to do with anything?'

Logic grimaced.

'That bastard tried to slip them a couple of ruffies a couple of nights ago. If anyone is going to be my first mark, it's going to be him. No one, and I mean no one, goes for those fine vixens before me. That, and he's a greedy son of a bitch.'

After hearing this, AJ was quiet for a time. He looked down at the ground, lost in thought. All around them, the night was completely still, punctuated only by the occasional call of a bird or the scuttling of rats' feet.

Finally, AJ looked up, resolute, but with one final check.

'Are you absolutely, one hundred percent certain that we won't get caught?'

Logic rubbed AJ on the back in a reassuring fashion, causing AJ's tail to wag slightly. This was normally considered quite an intimate thing for two people to do, but since the two had known each other since their childhood, it was acceptable.

'Look mate, if you really don't want to do this it's fine. But I can't do it alone, you know that. Tell you what, I'll go in and do the first bit, then if you want, you can go in and do your bit. If you don't, I'll just go back in and abort. No one gets hurt, no one gets conned. We can walk away at any time. He's not going to recognise you.'

AJ smiled and relaxed, letting his shoulders slump. He wedged his hands in his pockets, and looked excited.

'Okay, I'm ready.' He said.

'Excellent. Now let's go and con a perverted freak. I'm in first, and then you come in about ten seconds after I leave. Do your bit, and then leave the number and get out. I'll come back in and seal the deal. Got it?'

AJ shrugged.

'Fine mate, if that's the way you want to play it. But why do I have to be the nerdy one? I could go in first, no problem.'

Logic looked at the eager fox, who was panting slightly and couldn't wait to go in, looking not only completely out of character as a nerdy middle-class teenager, but also completely unsuitable for a scheme where deception and acting were paramount. He bit back the snide retort, which he knew would only start a fight (which he would lose), and instead tried to reason with AJ.

'You already agreed to this earlier. Plus, we're both dressed completely differently, and the story only works this way round. If you really want to swap clothes, we could do it right here, right now, but I wouldn't want to think about what it would look like if someone saw us, or worse, if one of those knuckleheads came out of the bar and saw two half naked-'

'All right! All right! You win.'

AJ tried not to laugh as he conceded defeat.

'I'm going in then. Wish me luck.'

'Go to hell, you knight in shining armour.'

'Thanks, mate.'

A wall of sound met Logic as he opened the heavy door and stepped into the bar. No one paid any notice of him amongst the disco lights and loud music, and he was able to walk up to the bar unmolested. He was trembling with each step he took, both enthralled by what he was about to do and also horrified, thinking of all the horrible ways the con could go wrong. Inside, part of him had been overjoyed at AJ's uneasiness, urging him to call the whole thing off and to walk away. He knew all too well what would happen if something went wrong: he would be lucky if he still had the use of his legs afterwards.

But there was a voice inside him, a powerful, compelling voice, which kept whispering to him that he could do it, that he could take money off this guy and walk away, that he was smarter, and that maybe if he did this the Danielson twins would pay attention to him. However, on this last part the voice in his head seemed less sure.

In a state of mixed anxiety, fear and excitement, Logic found himself looking around at the bar in which he was in, taking stock of everything.

The room was rectangular, with the bar in the far left corner. On the right were a pool table, a dartboard, and a small circular table, where the only other customers were gathered, playing a hand of poker. There were three of them: two gigantic dogs, and a sergal. One of the dogs was a plain brown German Shepherd, and the other was a black and white husky. Both were huge: easily over 7 feet tall, and with muscles the size of rugby balls.

Despite their fearsome build, the sergal sitting playing with them seemed completely unfazed as he checked his cards. He was obviously a northern sergal, as evidenced by his coarse dark hair and strong frame. He was much shorter than the huskies, and with less visible muscle, but looked as though he could have held his own in a fight with them. Where the huskies were bulky and strong, the sergal was light and agile, but with enough strength to do some damage as well. Logic had heard the stories about the extraordinary feats of strength even a normal sergal could perform, due to their dense muscles, and knew that he should avoid all three of these fearsome characters.

Logic stopped looking around and walked to the bar. Each step he took seemed to take forever, and cost him enormous amounts of energy. He could feel his heart pumping furiously, and felt blood pounding in his head, mingling with the heavy beat of the music until he felt dizzy. There was a strange feeling in his chest, like some primal urge. He was the hunter, and the fat bulldog standing in front of him was his prey. He felt adrenaline coursing through his veins with every beat of his heart. Subconsciously, he tensed, ready to spring and attack at a moment's notice.

All he could see now was the ugly bulldog, mopping a couple of empty beer glasses with a dirty rag. Nothing else was in focus, but he could see every detail of the bulldog's pudgy, foul face.

He saw that the bulldog had greasy, unhealthy looking skin under the short, bristly hair. He saw a lighter band of hair than normal around the bulldog's ring finger on his right hand. He saw the bloodshot eyes as they travelled over each glass in turn as it was cleaned with that rag. He saw all this, and knew that the bulldog had been divorced once, went frequently to fast food restaurants and had a drinking problem, which had possibly caused the divorce.

He reached the bar and leaned over the counter.

'Evening, mate. Ten bottles of Guinness, please. The party down the road needs refuelling.'

The bartender reached below the counter and pulled out the drinks. He put them on the counter in a row and looked at Logic.

'Twenty quid,' he said in a deep gruff voice, which came from a throat damaged from years of vodka drinking.

Logic reached down into his pocket to draw out the money, and stopped. He patted his pocket, and then began urgently to search himself. Eventually he stopped, looking worried.

'Aw shit, I can't believe I've done this. Look mate, I've left my cash at the party.'

The bulldog began to gather up the bottles. 'No, wait. If I go back in there empty handed, they're going to kill me. Could I take the bottles and come back?'

The bulldog stopped gathering up the glasses and looked straight at Logic.

'Don't fuck with me.' He growled. 'I give you those drinks, and I'll never see you again. I know your type: you think you're so smart; you think you can get away with shit like this. If I were you, I'd march right back up to that party and get the money, if you have any. Screw what your friends think; I've got a business to worry about here. Now go and get my money before I get very, very angry.'

Logic swallowed. This was the vital part. He pulled an iPod touch with a gold back out of his pocket and showed it to the bulldog.

'See this?' he said, trying to keep his voice steady. 'It's an iPod touch. I got it for my birthday yesterday. It's brand new, worth a lot more than a couple of drinks. How about I leave this with you? This way, you have something to hang onto if I do a runner, and I don't look like a prat in front of my new girlfriend.'

The bulldog hesitated. He took the iPod and weighed it in his hands, trying to work out if it was fake. Logic found it difficult not to smile as he watched this middle-aged canine trying to figure out a new piece of technology. He watched as the bulldog tapped the screen, pressed all the buttons, pressed all of the buttons again, and was just on the verge of biting it before Logic stopped him.

'Is that alright then?'

The bulldog came to a conclusion. He set the iPod down on the counter, next to him.

'Yeah, it's all right. Come back with the cash and you get the iPod back. Simple. Now get out of my bar.'

Heart thumping, Logic picked up the bottles with some difficulty, turned and walked back out of the bar, trying not to laugh, skip, collapse from heart failiure or do anything else that might alert the barman to the fact that something was wrong. He pushed open the bar door and walked out into the night. As soon as he was outside, he turned right and walked straight over to AJ, who was waiting, and shivering in his short-sleeved polo shirt.

'Right, he's taken the bait. Now it's your turn to go in. Act posh, maybe a bit stupid too. Be loud; flash the cash a bit. When you value it, say two thousand. That should be enough to get about five hundred out of him. Once you've given the number, don't stick around. Say you've got to get back to a friend or something. I want to get out of here.'

AJ nodded, not saying anything about the 'stupid' remark, which worried Logic slightly. Without another word, he walked over to the entrance of the bar, opened the door and walked inside.

About five minutes passed before AJ staggered out, breathing hard.

'AJ! Are you alright?'

Logic hurried over to him and tried to work out what was wrong. AJ stared at the ground for what seemed like an age, before he looked up at Logic and spoke in a breathless voice.

'Shit, that was intense. I had no idea it would be that bad. He kept looking at me, and all I could think was: had he worked it out? Would he remember me? That was scary. I don't have to go back in, do I?'

Logic shook his head.

'No you don't, mate. How did it go, though?'

'Well, I think. He looked really interested when I mentioned two thousand. When I said I had to go, he asked for my number right away. He really doesn't suspect anything. Plus, he really doesn't know what an iPod is, does he?

Logic shook his head.

'All the better for us; we could basically name a price. From what you've said, all I have to do is go back in and he'll be throwing the money at me.' Logic looked at his watch. 'I think it's about time I went back in. Wish me luck!'

'Good luck, mate.'

Logic tensed himself for another rush of adrenaline as he opened the bar door, but nothing came. He felt calm, relaxed even, knowing that he had the stupid dog hook, line and sinker. He walked back over to the bar, this time taking little notice of the poker game still in full flow. He pulled out a wallet, which had been in his pocket all the time, and drew out a twenty pound note.

'There you go, mate. Can I have my iPod back now, please?'

The bulldog picked up the iPod, but didn't hand it over.

'How much?' he said in his grating voice.

Logic played dumb.

'I'm sorry?' he asked, confused.

The bulldog grunted impatiently, his jowls wobbling unpleasantly at the exhalation.

'How much for the iPod?'

Logic went for a balance between outrage and amazement.

'But... that was a birthday present! Why the hell would you want something like that?'

The bulldog grunted again, setting his jowls in motion.

'I got my reasons. You want four hundred for it?'

I know your reason, Logic thought. Your reason is that a wealthy middle-class university student came in here for a drink. After having got through about half of his beer, he looked at the iPod and asked to have a look at it. He examined the gold back, switched it on and off a couple of times, and then asked you if he could buy it, offering two thousand pounds. He said it was a limited edition model, and he would pay a lot for it. You said that it wasn't yours, but if he could leave a mobile number, he would be able to get it and then sell it to you. You told him to call you tomorrow if you got it. The mobile number actually contacts Mrs Irving, the crabby old cockroach who lives downstairs and complains when we breathe too loudly. Good luck trying to sell her an iPod, you greedy pervert.

Outwardly he said:

'I'm not selling it. I only just got it a couple of days ago; I'm not about to just give it away. It's special: my parents wouldn't tell me how much they'd spent on it!'

The bulldog leaned close urgently. His breath was foul, and it was all Logic could do to keep from coughing. He stank of all different types of alcohol: vodka, wine, beer, and there was a definite hint of Red Bull in there too. His teeth were yellowed, and looked as though they hadn't been brushed in months. Just thinking about the Danielsons with this freak set Logic on edge, and he had to restrain himself from hitting the bulldog on the violent impulse that surged through him. The bulldog spoke:

'I don't care how much your parents spent on it. I just want your iPod. You can get another one and spray it gold, and they would never notice the difference. I'm willing to offer you a lot of money for this: don't be an idiot and turn me down.'

Logic looked unwilling, but interested.

'I'm not selling for four hundred, and that's not going to change. You want it so badly? Show me. Make a decent offer.'

The bulldog growled.

'Don't push it, you little sod. I could crush you right now, but I'm deciding to be nice tonight. I'll give you six hundred.'

'Make it seven hundred and you've got it.'

'Fine.'

With those words, the bulldog waddled over to the cash register and opened the till. He counted out seven hundred pounds; which, to Logic's satisfaction, nearly emptied the till. He then moved back over to where Logic was standing, and banged the money down on the counter.

'There you go, you little sod, and don't come back to my bar again.'

Logic laid the iPod down and picked up the money.

'Thanks,' he said. 'Have a good evening, mate.'

He pocketed the money, turned round, and walked straight out of the pub. Once he had left the bar, he turned the corner and saw AJ holding the beers.

'How did it go?' AJ asked.

Logic broke into a wide grin, and took some of the beers from out of AJ's hands.

'Let's get out of here.'

AJ, Michael Lujan (Husky), Stan Melgar (German Shepherd) and Loki (Sergal) do not belong to me and are property of BlueFox77, bahamut6sic6 (Stan and Michael) and loki_the_sergal respectively.