GRAY DOG

Pitbull

Buildings, once brick and mortar giants, were now hunched under the weight of age and neglect. Graffiti, a vibrant tapestry of defiance and despair, covered every exposed surface. Rust, the omnipresent sculptor, had turned fire escapes into skeletal claws reaching for a sky perpetually choked by smog.

But what truly defied expectations were the trees. Enormous redwoods and sycamores, their roots bursting through cracked asphalt and shattered concrete, had become a twisted part of the cityscape. They snaked their way through windows, swallowed balconies whole, and even emerged from rooftops like verdant crowns on decaying monarchs. Their presence whispered of a time long forgotten, when nature and concrete coexisted in an uneasy truce.

The symphony of the slum was unlike any other. The rhythmic whine of malfunctioning A.I. robots, repurposed for menial tasks, mingled with the guttural barks of unseen hounds and the occasional primal howl of a werewolf. From below, wafted the aroma of sizzling mystery meat from street vendors, a testament to the ingenuity of those who refused to be starved by neglect.The metallic tang of blood still lingered in the air as Melona pushed open the thin apartment door. He hadn't slept, the image of Ethan, his childhood friend, trapped in the woods with a madman, burning into his mind. The radios on his police scanner crackled to life, a symphony of chaos. "Shots fired on Elm Street," "Domestic disturbance on Maple Avenue." He slammed his fist down, the frustration a physical ache in his chest.

"Turn the freaking radio down!" he roared, his voice a guttural rumble that vibrated through the tiny apartment. His enhanced hearing, a gift (or a curse depending on the day) picked up a faint whimper from outside his door. He stalked over, flinging it open to reveal Angie Rice, Mario's girlfriend, a portrait of worry etched on her face.

"Angie, what are you doing here? It's early," Melona rumbled, fatigue dragging at him.

Angie, a wisp of a woman with dark circles under her eyes, fidgeted with a loose thread on her worn purse. "I haven't heard back from Mario," she choked out, her voice trembling.

Melona sighed, his frustration morphing into something heavier, an unwelcome dread. "Mario, wolf Mario". His face covered with a lack of concern.

Angie "Yes wolf mario".

Melona "He probably just got caught up at work. You know contractors are always busy, these slumbs are deteriating."

Angie shook her head frantically, a fresh wave of panic painting her features. "No, Melona. He wouldn't be out this late two days in a row without texting me. Something happened to him, and I don't know what it is, but I know something is wrong, please help me, you're big bro and i need your help."

Tears welled up in her eyes, her gaze pleading. Melona, hardened by the harsh realities of his job as a detective, felt a pang of sympathy pierce his defenses. Seeing the raw fear mirrored Ethan's terror, he knew he couldn't ignore this.

"Alright, Angie," he conceded with a heavy sigh. "I'll go look for Mario. But first, tell me everything you know."

Melona stalked through the dense forest, the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves offering no solace to the gnawing worry in his gut. Angie's wedding ring, a simple band of silver and gold, felt heavy in his palm. He lifted it to his nose, inhaling deeply. He caught a faint scent of lavender, Angie's favorite perfume, a wisp of memory clinging to the metal. He closed his eyes, focusing on the scent, letting it guide him deeper into the woods.

The forest floor blurred beneath his feet as he picked up the pace, his heightened senses straining against the encroaching darkness. Had he gone too far? Doubt gnawed at him, but the faint trace of lavender held firm. Suddenly, he burst into a clearing, the remnants of Ethan's struggle laid bare before him. The overturned bear trap lay discarded, a smear of blood staining the damp earth. Melona dropped to his knees, his fingers searching the ground. "Blood". There was no mistaking the metallic tang that filled his nostrils.