Justice League And The Hounds Of Hell

Chapter 8: The Reflection in those Canine Eyes

The pound smelled much worse and felt much more sinister than the shelter had. There were no volunteers, only rude employees who despised us as much as the dogs they worked with. It was at the end of the damp, grey-walled building that we found Ace sitting in the corner of his kennel with the thick muzzle still strapped to his face. The dogs in all of the other cages barked and snarled at us. I ignored them as best I could, otherwise I would end up buying the whole place.

"Are you sure about this, Krystal? He's a lot bigger than I thought he'd be, and he does look pretty mean." Tim whispered when he caught sight of the bitter eyed dog.

I twisted around to face him. "You're either with me or against me on this, and I need you to be with me on this. Please."

His gaze softened. "You know I always have your back." He glanced back at the dog. "But, are you sure?"

"I was mean and aggressive. You handled it fine."

"Yeah, but you didn't have titanium fangs."

An employee approached us. She was a pugfaced girl with dark liner under her eyes and a bright purple streak in her hair. "You two lost?"

"No, we're taking this one."

She almost laughed and gave me a once over. "Are you trying to have your face bitten off or something?" 

Ace had managed to stand and he snarled harder than before. In his dark eyes I saw bright red hate, aimed for her. She'd done something to him. Hatred like that doesn't come out of nowhere, it's developed and harvested, and when it blossoms, it's the ugliest and bitterest fruit of all to taste.

I opened up my purse and pulled out a couple hundred dollar bills that Alfred had helped me withdraw from the bank. "I can make it worth your while."

She stared between us and the dog. "He ain't for sale. He's on deathrow. They're doing him in tonight."

I pulled out a larger, tighter wad of money. "Really worth your while." I repeated.

Tim opened up his wallet and brought out his own money. He handed her $200 in cash. "And you can take this as a tip."

She snorted. "Alright." She grabbed the money. "You can have him, if you can get him, and I'm not going anywhere near him." She went to the desk to put the money away and came back with the key to open the cage. 

She opened the door and cornered herself between the gate and the wall, separating herself from him. Ace stood and glared daggers at us. His ears were back and his tail was down; a defensive stance, I knew he wouldn't attack. I stepped into the cage, ignoring the instinctual fear that shuddered within me at the furious sound of his snarl, and the flash of sharp white teeth beneath the muzzle. I kneeled down to get on his level, very slowly and looked into his hard eyes.

Prior to this visit Tim helped me research into everything we could about rehabilitating an aggressive dog. We also found a reputable behaviorist within Gotham City who would help us. For now, I only got down on a knee in front of him, and looked at him with with a calm, no nonsense expression. We sat like that for about ten minutes until he finally stopped growling and blinked at me in confusion. He was used to people grabbing and dragging him everywhere, I wanted to get him out of that defensive mindset and into the pup that had been trained at the Belgium facility.

He eventually laid down, watching me with one eye, but he calmed enough for me to take the leash connected to his muzzle into my hand.

"Komen." It had also been Tim's idea to speak to him in Dutch, the language Ace was originally trained in. He had downloaded a copy of the trainer's handbook, which we crashed into our brains to become familiar with. The pointed ears perked at the sound, he looked at me with utter astonishment, and his hackles rose in mistrust.