heat of the night. [vegas]

[`nali. ♫]

The Swamp in spring held a horribly wet heat. With its close proximity to the River, it had developed as a sort of floodplain. And since it was monsoon season the weather could be downright unbearable. Moisture hung in the air, water content high despite the fact that it would not actually rain. Not yet, at least. For now the heavy storms seemed to be holding out. Once summer rolled around the land would get a little drier. But for now, especially during the day, the humidity was almost unbearable, especially for a thicker coated breed. Which is why Besitzen had waited until nightfall to journey through this territory.

Even at a brisk walk the heavily furred male was beginning to pant. He could handle the harsher temperatures, yes, but they were not ideal. Why certain friends of his preferred to dwell in this awful land he did not know. But he knew better than to question it. The fellas here were good to him, most of the time at least. And he did have a score to settle...

"Vegas? Vere are hyu, hyu ol' son ov a bitch?" The deep voice echoed throughout the swamp, accented with a touch of German. Besitzen's senses were on full alert, twin tall ears swiveling atop his head in attempt to catch any approaching sounds. His sense of smell was unfortunately diluted thanks to the heavy humidity and the small fawn carcass draped over his back. The scent of blood radiated out from him, possibly drawing other predators. Hopefully that mutt would show up soon. It was time to pay the piper.

Last time he'd been here the black faced male had suffered a rather large financial loss. His petty bets had gone a little too far and he'd gotten in over his head. Now the week he'd had to get the debt squared away was up. The Belgian had to forgo finding a new lucky charm for this. The fawn had better of been enough. It was all he'd been able to catch on his own, destroying the mental stability of a new mother as he claimed the life of her child. The Capo had damn well better be pleased.

[tre]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=background,http://i54.tinypic.com/219qg76.jpg][scrolly:h(300),w(271),sy] Mud slicked paws trod proudly atop the dusty terrain of the swamp land. To most others, the swamp held a certain negative connotation, one that was plagued with mosquitoes and dangerous reptile predators; not to mention all of the mud and water that filtered around tree trunks. Yes the swamp lands were seventy-five percent water and muck, but Vegas saw his territory for what it was, the other twenty-five percent; dry high grounds that housed individual homes for those of the Brotherhood gang. They were never without water, and when a drought hit, this is where the prey came to find the resources to live. There may not have been solid structures for shelter and it definitely was not as flashy and the city-of-lights he was named after, but it was home. Celebrating his fifth birthday, Vegas had spent all of that time in the wild. To him, living amongst the crumbling city of Pyrrhic seemed awkward, and in his infrequent trips there, he felt like a fish out of water. But he hadn’t been there in some time, not since Hayley had gotten ill. There was enough space here for him and his wild and rowdy brothers to play their games without intrusion from outsiders. Vegas did not have any biological brothers, no; he was the Capo of the Duarte Brotherhood… And currently, as Capo, he was off to a predestined meeting spot to settle a score between him and a frequent gatherer at the Brotherhood’s events. These “events”, as Vegas referred to them as, were really time old traditions from the early days of the Brotherhood. Dog fights, fighting to reserve a place amongst the Brotherhood, fighting to earn a higher rank, fighting to show off your skills; it was a pastime for the Brothers on more than one occasion. A few months ago, a little bird gave Vegas the idea that these events should be semi-private. Open them for others to come and watch and partake in. The turnout was small, but as the word spread around about the type of interactive show the Duarte Brotherhood was putting on in the river’s edge swamp, the numbers grew; street dogs, house pets, etc. Anyone and everyone that wanted to test their strength. It was at one of these events that Vegas bumped into Besitzen, a dog of German descent like himself, but with a wicked taste for gambling. It had also been tradition for the Brothers to make petty bets at these types of gatherings, and as the numbers of contenders grew, so did the stakes. Everything from food, to rights to homes, even bartering bitches sat on the table a handful of times. Vegas assumed that was what had drawn Zen in. The Tervuren had been hooked on gambling long before he started coming to the swamp, but every other week when the events were held, Vegas could count on Zen showing up at some point during the night. Besitzen was the type of company Vegas was attracted to these days, and the fact that Zen wasn’t afraid to lose really caught V. He waited in the shadows of the giant fern fronds for Zen to show up to pay for his lost bet. Vegas was always early to these types of meetings, but the last to show up. He scoffed, listening to the heavy accent in Zen’s voice. “Besitzen!” he roared as he strolled through the thick underbrush into a small clearing, not but ten feet wide. Icy eyes looked the male over once, travelling to the dead fawn he brought with him to repay his debt. “You’re late…” he stated, his voice as flat as the swamps water in the early morning. “I almost thought I was going to have to send my boys out after ya,” he continued, a coy smile playing on his lips. Vegas like to remind those who he did business with that he was a business man and there was no running away. Not from him anyway. [/scrolly]

[`nali. ♫]

Almost immediately the Tervuren oriented to the sound of his name, ears perked as his head swiveled towards the noise. So the Capo finally decided to show up, eh? Zen smirked. And he purposely chose to ignore the flat threat in the other's voice. They were friends, buddies. And as a painfully honest fellow, Besitzen always made good on his debts. He knew he had nothing to worry about.

"Don't be schtoopid," he chuckled, brow raising in skepticism. "I am never late. Hyu are just too early." He paused then, shifting his weight. His head twisted back to look over his shoulder, jaws parting to get a good grasp on the fawn. Then he pulled. With some effort, the fawn slipped from his back. But the Belgian T. put a little more effort into it than necessary. He was smirking as his prize went hurdling towards Vegas, landing hard on the sloppy ground and kicking up some mud. He, at least, had enjoyed his little prank.

Rolling his shoulders, Besitzen took a moment to stretch out his back. His fur was slightly bloodstained, but that was no big deal. He could go wash up later, when he wasn't in the middle of an obligation. Right now he was glad to be relieved of the weight on his back. That damn hunk of meat got heavy after a while; they were lucky it hadn't started rotting given the swamp's high heat.

He turned back to Vegas then, considering the transaction successful. Though, he couldn't help but get in one last jab. He really hadn't been given much time to pull his act together so he knew quite well how poor today's payment was. But Pyrrhus was a big place and he hadn't had time to make it across the river and back in order to procure more worthwhile goods. "Maybe if hyu did not keep such a tight leash, I vould have gotten hyu somethink better."