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As I had expected, the first day of class was a drag. I had really wanted to go back to the youth center to help but with the semester starting up, I didn't have the time; the need to purchase supplies taking priority. By the time I had collected all my books for that one day, I already had some chapters to read. In the same manner that I had learned back home, I had to absorb all the information before I could do anything else. This time consumption was annoying, me often tearing out clumps of hair as I tried to understand it.

I was able to go by the center on Wednesday, sadly not seeing Tyson there but still being able to fill out the paperwork to get the job. Leslie, the feline, was working there, her increasing her pursuits towards me. Apparently word had not spread that I was gay, so it would be interesting to see how much her attitude changes when it slaps her across the maw.

The rest of the week was me studying my ass off, doing my best in my apartment. It was hard at first to focus, the urge to procrastinate and do other things becoming more appealing before my judgment snaps back in at me, the little pup in my brain yelling out at me to focus. Come Friday though, I was happy to be free.

After my class had ended that day, I knew I didn't want to study. After spending the entire week cramped up, I knew I needed to stretch my paws. I was growing agitated, my fur unkempt and tangled, me looking one step away from mutt status. Walking outside, it felt good to take in the air, while still warm, the breeze adding a nice effect to the blow.

I had just exited my class, me on my way home to change to go workout at the gym. Tyson had not gotten back to me on the schedule yet for work so to fill the rest of my day; I figured it would be a good way to work out the tension. Passing the usual streets, my senses take in the aromas of the neighborhood, the slight stench of the bricks, the hanging clothes outside peoples windows, it all had a distinct smell that made it feel nice.

"Give me your money you runt!" I hear a familiar voice shout out down the upcoming alleyway. Hearing a slight whimper, I start to move towards the edge, hoping it isn't Wilson beating up some kid.

It isn't, instead turning out to be the Doberman, the one that was feisty back during the meeting. He had just received the wallet from a small otter, the little animal slightly bloody from a few attacks the Doberman had inflicted. Cursing to myself, I could have stopped him but it was too late. So I did the next best thing, I waited till he came out. Moving back a few paces, I stood behind some trash cans, propping myself up against the wall to look occupied. To make blend in a little more, I tossed up my hood, covering my grey fur. I was still able to keep an eye out for him, my piercing blue eyes watching for the spotted teen to emerge.

The Doberman, me racking my mind to remember his name- Andrew, Anton, something similar to that, came out, not even looking around to see if anyone is there. He takes off in the opposite direction, heading off as if nothing happened. There is the typical cocky sway to his walk, his hands in his sweater pockets, his jeans hung low.

Breaking off from the wall, I stalk my prey, moving up slowly to him. The wind is blowing towards me, masking my scent from him as I continue closer. Eyeing him up, I look for the easiest way to stop him. It is times like these that I am happy to have such a small backpack, its weight not inhibiting me from accomplishing my mission.

I move in for the strike, bumping into the Doberman, knocking him off balance while he is in mid-step. It allowed for me to complete my goal, my quick swipe into his sweater unnoticed as his fury overtakes him, the brush of our hands not registering that I had stolen the wallet. "Watch where you're walking ass wipe! Don't cha see you have all this sidewalk? What the fuck?!"

I have reached my goal, the kid raging over my cold shoulder attack, the lack of notice given towards his missing wallet amusing me. What I didn't expect though was for him to grab my backpack, him almost decking me as he twists me around, an angry frenzy burning through his eyes. I block his right flying paw, the extended claws out to do damage on my fur.

As I blow off the block, I grab his shoulder, blocking any other attacks from occurring. Maintaining a firm grip on the Doberman's shoulder, I dig my nails in, twisting him around and holding his left paw against his neck. Moving the wrath of anger against the wall, I extend his strong arm against the bricks, using his arm connected to his neck to slowly cut off the airflow. "ANTHONY! Stop fighting it!"

My command echo's into his arched ears, the waves of my barks forcing them to drop down up the skin. There is still a rage in his stance, the struggle to escape my grasp evident in every shake and drop of his shoulder that he makes. "Who the FUCK are you?!" Anthony snarls out at me, the bite of his muzzle lashing out to empty air. I have him effectively pinned against the wall, he is not going anywhere.

"It's Ryan! From the youth center!" I counter his snarls with my own enforcement, pressing him harder against the wall, the bending of his paw to his neck becoming uncomfortable for him, especially with his claws extended. Digging my own into each of his own, my nails start to slowly retract, hoping that he will calm down. "I don't want to hurt you. We need to talk though, civically. Do you think you can do that?"

Anthony, having calmed enough to be reasoned with, stubbornly coughs out, "What? What do you want to talk about?" It is clear to tell from his voice that he will still be a struggle to deal with, a possible flight risk if I don't focus too much on corralling him.

Slowly releasing him, I step back, eyeing him as I watch his next move. I am ready for a chase, my stance with a slight spring in my toes. However, he does as commanded, only turning around to glare at me, the fire raging through his auburn eyes. Holding up the wallet to the end of his snout, his face drops at the sight of it, the surprise that I had it catching him off guard. "What is this?" I flick the wallet at him, the cold fake vinyl slapping his nose before falling to the floor.

"It's.. It's mine. I swear!" His anger had suddenly shifted to fear, thoughts of how he needs to sell this running through his brain. It's complete bullshit and he knows it, the lie not selling as well as he wanted. His eyes don't work the bluff as well as he intended, a concerned look telling me that he doesn't want me to take it from him, not because he wants it for his own greed but for something else.

As the dog leans over, plucking up the wallet, I tear into him. "Really? Then why did I watch you kick some poor kids ass just to get it from him? I saw the entire thing Anthony!" My fists are balled up, the anger at him hurting a defenseless otter, no kid no matter what species, irritation dripping off my coat.

A slight tear forms in Anthony's eyes, something I had not been expecting. He had not been expecting to be caught, but I still wanted him to own up to his mistake, not allowing him to ride scot-free. "Can we not do this here? Please..." Anthony starts to look around, a small whimper in his voice.

Grabbing him roughly by his collar, I drag him back into the alleyway, the otter long gone by now. Tossing him against a dumpster, I glare at him, "Why here? Why did you hurt the kid?"

The Doberman flicks his ears back and forth, dread and worry evident from his actions. The tough guy I had subdued is gone, replaced by this whole other creature, an exposed and scarred youth. "I do it for my family. You don't understand."

"Really? You beat people for your family? That's it? Try a little better than that." I cross my paws, each claw tapping against my skin in unison.

Anthony slides down the side of the trash dump, his wall falling as well. "You don't know what it's like! I am having to help support my sister and her baby boy back home. My mom is a drugged up mess, my sister's dad a no-show asshole Rottweiler, and my sister is doing her best to make ends meet. I attempt to help out any way I can, this being the best way to make income." He moves his paws to his eyes, attempting to soak up the tears that are starting to stream down. The shame and guilt from what he does is well known to even him, every beating he has done coming back to him.

"Anthony, stop crying. You know what you did was wrong. There are other ways to help out your sister, ways better than hurting the other kids. This community needs someone to look up to, not look down at. Do you really want your nephew to grow up looking at you this way?" I don't crouch down to look at him, instead I remain standing, my authority stance not wavering. I know what he has been through and while his options are few, anything is better than this.

"No shit, you think? But it's not like many places around here are hiring. Especially with me being only 16." The Doberman sobs slightly, trying to explain his case.

"Well, I am sure that there is someplace, don't give up hope too soon." It was a bullshit statement, and I knew it as well, but I needed to tell him that things do change for the better at times. "Well first though, you have anger issues that need to be worked out. I don't normally do this but I think you would be perfect for the spot."

Anthony looks up at me, the prospect of something beneficial appealing to him. Crawling back to his feet, he rests against the dumpster, the reek of it becoming nauseating. "What? What is it?" His eyes go almost into the puppy look, his childhood showing that it hasn't been completely lost.

Crossing my arms, I sternly look at him, my statement very clear. "Be at the university at 8. I won't tell you what it is because that would ruin it. You need some hope, and here is a lifeline. Take it." Squinting my eyes at him, I get the point that these moments come very rarely.

With his head hung low, he starts to move past me, holding out the wallet for me to take. "Here, since you made me guilty for taking it."

Not taking the wallet, I leave it out in his paw. "Take it. Treat your nephew to something nice." I watch as he walks out guilty, the sun shining on his face as he enters back to the real world, the pain and anguish of where we live taking its toll in every life.

*****

The following morning was great. I woke up in a great mood, looking forward to seeing Anthony and showing him what his abilities truly are. Stuffing an extra pair of clothes into my backpack, knowing that Anthony would need it, I set off for the university.

Arriving at the university at 8, right on the dot, I was happy to see Anthony there, though he didn't look to happy himself. He was wearing typical street clothes; a worn t-shirt, baggy jeans, and some well dog-eared sneakers. His shoulders were slouched, his ears flicking back and forth trying to take in the environment. This clearly was not his setting, something that I had learned to get used to when I first got to college. He was standing near the entrance where I had instructed him, and as I approached, he righted his stance, strutting over to me with his swagger in full effect. "What are we doing here?"

Looking at him in the eyes, I calmly instructed him, "Follow me and I will show you." We start off through the campus, and while it is the weekend, there are still plenty of students shuffling around. Many are buying their books and supplies, something I was glad to have already done. Anthony is silent the entire time, looking around cautiously as if he is going to get jumped. Slowing down my pace enough to subtly let him ahead of me, I watch him as he takes in the school life.

"You could have this. You could be one of these students in a few years." I break the silence as he had stopped to look back at me, his muzzle agape at everything he sees. The campus is really nice. Flowers still blooming even though it is nearing September. The grass is nicely mowed, the smell of the food from the eating court wafting up towards our noses.

"Do you know what it would take to get into this place? I could never afford this. Especially with me having to take care of my family." The Doberman shuts down, denial and a lack of self worth diminishing his confidence.

"Anthony, Tony, you can. I did. It took work but you can do it. I know you can." I hold his shoulder, as if it would transfer some of my knowledge over to him on what all I had learned throughout my life. Turning him around, we continue on, making our way through the campus, me showing him each of the buildings and what all they have and teach.

At about 9 we reach the destination, the nice gym beckoning out to us. I had checked it out online and it had what I wanted and hoped for. Anthony stood there, unsure if he was allowed to enter the complex. I lead the way, the electronic doors sensing my approach and parting, something that Anthony had not seen in a long time. He was looking around for the sensor as I approached the front desk, informing them that I had a guest with me, and renting out the necessary equipment for what I had planned.

Calling out to Anthony, I ushered him into the actual workout area, the distinct smell of sweat and musk rising off the equipment. Letting Anthony wander around, I slowly work my way towards my final destination, a separate closed off room that was covered by a second floor indoor track. Anthony looked to be enjoying it thus far, the weights and barbells calling out to him to be used, their mere presence forcing a smile onto his muzzle, the happy dog pouncing around from machine to machine, checking each one out as if it were an entirely new creation.

Opening the door, I rest against it, looking to the room. Anthony wanders next to me, looking in from behind me. Recognizing his presence, I glace behind me, then usher him in. There is an unease about the situation registering on his face as I climb into the arena, stepping through the cables and onto the boxing floor. Anthony moves over to the ropes, looking in as if it were uncharted territory. I toss him my backpack, pointing to the locker room in the process, "Go change and meet me out here."

Anthony wanders off to change, his step slow and his gaze broken, each few seconds him glancing back to see me standing in the ring. After about 5 minutes, he returns, the clothes fitting perfectly on him. If he were older, they would not have fit as well, but since he was a good six years younger than me, the clothes hung well on him. Resting the backpack on the ground, he doesn't enter in, instead looking in at me, "Are you sure about this? I can't get into any fights, Tyson would kill me."

I smirk at him, resting over the ropes looking down at him, "Well, what's stopping me from telling him about the other fight?" I was using it as coercion to get him in but more for a different purpose.

Anthony steps back, shocked I would have pulled such a move, "Are you blackmailing me?" While slightly startled, his eyes flash with a slight anger, the thought of someone having an upper hand over him something he had never dealt with before.

Tossing him the mitts and facemask, I retort, turning my back to walk towards the center, "No. I want to see how you react when you don't have control. Now get in the ring." I bark out the last sentence, causing him to jump a little. Anthony is a big boy but I am relishing the fact that he is just as broken as everyone else. There is no higher plane for him to stand on, no pedestal for him to sit on.

He does as he is instructed, slowly climbing through the cords to the square platform, but when he gets in he just stands there, unsure of what to do next. His paws, while now covered in the mitts, hang limp, no strength in them at all. "Now what?" He raises them cautiously, unsure of what to do next.

I move into position on the other half of the rink, my stance off center enough to where my back shoe is firm against the floor. "Hit me." I command out to him, barking the order which causes him to jump.

Anthony looks around, unsure of if he could actually be allowed to hit me. I try again, this time with more force. Leaning in, I bark out louder, 'HIT me!" The Doberman gets slowly into the groove of what all is going on, the allowance to actually fight becoming clear to him. I snarl it out one last time as I start to move forward myself. "HIT ME!" I take a few steps towards him, throwing him off balance and forcing him to act.

Anthony charges me, his shoes slamming against the mat in complete rage. He was not used to being treated this way, being told what to do and challenged in the manner I had. Bringing his left paw up, he goes in for the strike but just as last time, I deflect it, landing my own punch into his midsection.

Anthony stumbles back, coughing from my blow. I only needed to land one shot to put him down, but the rage in his eyes showed he wanted more. Patting my chest with the gloves, I motion him forward, "Come on! Think of how to fight!"

This time he moves in more slowly, taking his time to try and corner me. We do a small dance around the middle circle, him throwing out a few jabs here and there to try and connect, all of them missing. I return the joust, a playful grin baring on my snout, all teeth showing. Taunting him, "Anthony, you really don't know how to fight!"

After taking into account which way he leans from my jabs, I toss out a fake jab, not extending it all the way, him still reacting to a lean, at which point I go in for the chest shot. He stumbles back a little, allowing me to move in further, "Block yourself!" I snarl at him as I continue with some soft punches. None of my attacks were going to be too damaging to him, just enough to make him work for his defenses.

Anthony pulls up the mitts to his face and midsection, the parallel lines of his arms making it hard for me to connect my shots. I had successfully moved him into the cable, delivering my own sense of justice to him.

I was a bit too slow on one of my punches, and Anthony, having taken a good thirty seconds of the blows, recognizes it and takes the offensive. Punching right under my left shoulder, he connects hard to my upper rib cage, his blow strong and deep. I stumble back a little myself, allowing him to get out. He has a slight grin on his face now, knowing that he can equal the playing field.

I grin back at him, "There we go. Now fight LIKE A MAN!" I growl at him, watching as he moves in towards me. He delivers a good one two punch, the first one connecting to my raised defenses, not doing much damage. The second one though works my side, beating into my right like a sledgehammer.

Pushing him off, I rub my side slightly, noting that he had a good arm to work with, then go in for my return attack. He had tried to move in after I had kicked him off but I flew out my arm, connecting with his muzzle right on, his head twisting from the smack of my pad. Even though he was a minor, I knew he could take it, and I was not going to hard on him, only showing him what he could do and what others could do to him.

He stumbles back, stunned, which made me stop for a second. Dropping all anger, I cautiously move towards him, making sure everything is all right. We had been fighting for a good twenty to thirty minutes, a long match by my terms. "Hey you alright there?"

Anthony rests against the rope, catching a breather. "Yea, that last blow was a bit much." He leans over to try and get more air in but I move towards him, pulling him back upright.

Resting him against the cables, I pull off my mitts to examine him. There is a slight bruise on his face, but after what he had done to me, it about equals out. "Ok, enough sparing for today. I'm sorry for hitting you that hard."

Anthony snorts a little bit, "Nah that was actually really fun. It was nice to get out my anger on someone who could take it and return it. And don't worry about the head, I have had worse."

I began to wonder what all had happened to him when he was at home, thinking of if any child abuse was actually taking place. Helping him to take off his faceguard and mitts, we work our way off the court. Resting against the wall, I offer him some of my water, then look at myself in the mirror to see what damage he had done to me. Apparently he actually drew some blood from me, one of his hits connecting well through the guard and cracking my muzzle, a small line of red dribbling down. I wasn't worried about it, and, after he saw, I made sure he shouldn't worry either.

We moved out after that, the meeting for the youth center starting in a few hours. We had just enough time to get back to our places and change. Heading out through the college, it was silence at first till Anthony broke it, a smile creasing his snout. "I know I said rough things about you being gay last week but thanks. You are one of the best guys I know, gay or otherwise."

Pulling him in close, I wrap my arm around his shoulder. "Like I said, I am not a labels kind of guy. I don't like fitting into any separate group. And thanks." I ruffle up his head a little bit, messing with the hair between his ears enough to undo the due.

*****

After a quick shower at my place, I was surprised to see Anthony waiting for me outside, him having learned somehow of where I lived. I wasn't too worried over it but in a way, with word spreading about who I was and where I lived, I knew that at times that could lead to bad consequences.

The two of us walked over to the center, me actually taking into account the name. I had seen it before but looking at it now it all started to make sense: Broken Youth Youth Center. This WAS a place for kids who were screwed up, or came from broken families, in the case of Anthony. They all can be great kids, they just need some guidance. Pushing open the door, Anthony leads the way, him crossing the lobby to head back towards the room.

Tyson was working the front desk, instructing some aide on how to manage the kids, but when he caught sight of Anthony's bruises, he went postal. "What happened Tony? Did you get into another fight again?!"

I walked up behind Anthony, causing Tyson to look over and notice my broken face as well. The lion's eyes exploded at my beaten face, while it wasn't too bad in my opinion, Tyson thought I too was injured. "Did you two get jumped?"

Anthony merely looked over to me, a slight smile on his loopy Doberman snout, "Told ya he would be pissed."