Dog Days [Relm, Open]

[Deleted]

R u f u s S h i n r a

firemasterofcheyenne

After his meeting with the mercenary, he felt accomplished. The meeting went off without a hitch and he was confident that the events would play out in his favor, but if they did not he still had a good sense of the preexisting military forces out there in the worlds. With the deal in place he had no other worries, or appointments, for the evening. Even if had been his concern to find a way off this world, keeping busy with work always did well to distract him from the humdrum of the day. With that he felt it appropriate to retire for the night. With the hotel room already paid for all the executive need do was to make his way to the district. With his belly full and mind dancing about the success of his well laid plans Rufus felt sleep tugging at the edges of his consciousness. A soft whine escaped from the throat of his companion who marched at his side with purpose. As Rufus’ steps carried him into the Second District of Traverse Town he allowed his blue eyes to drift down to Dark Nation, his first faithful hound. The man had tucked his hands into his pockets, looking for warmth for his exposed fingers in the chilly night. Slipping his left hand from the confines of his slacks he would reach down to brush the top of the Tentacle Hound’s skull. The thin fur that coated the beast’s body was neither greasy nor rough, showing the care Rufus took in raising him. The murderous beast padded faster in order to push his head into the touch, accepting the praise for his dotting nature. Aside from Tseng, it was probably the only other living creature Rufus would give open praise.

“I think a good night’s rest calls us both.” He reached into the inner pocket of his overcoat, having since unbuttoned the jacket and the first few top buttons of his collar. “Now it is just a matter of playing a waiting game.” He flipped open his phone with his thumb and stared at the unsent message.

Pickup required.

He was still out of reach of another PHS system. Though he was not on the network, his phone would automatically connect were he to pass a suitable system. Snapping the phone closed he tucked it back into his pocket. Entering the hotel’s main entrance Rufus had to suppress the curl of his lip, a tell tail sign of amusement, as the hotel manager hurriedly pulled the curtain closed over his window as Rufus passed by, quickly muttering for the man to have a good night. His earlier run in with Dark Nation was anything but pleasant. The animal was naturally horrifying and the long tentacle upon the back of his head was an angry, red color and lashed about as actively as a dog’s tail, his own tail a curled stump that had the sharpness of a steel blade. They did not look to be the most cuddly of beasts. As they passed the window Dark Nation would stop and raise his head to look, a deep huff escaping his muzzle as he took in the scents. The long, coiling tentacle slowly curled up, like a snake preparing to strike. Up ahead Rufus unlocked his door and called out to his hound.

“Come.” Without hesitation Dark Nation padded toward the door and sniffed at the ground before it trotted in.

The lanky beast had a strange cantor due to its body shape, but it was efficient at its tasks. It checked around the room as Rufus entered behind him. The hound diligently looked for any foreign bodies that did not belong and dangerous explosives. Rufus shed his overcoat and tossed it on the chair by the door. He reached up toward his bangs where he would run his fingers through and subconsciously spread them out. It had become a tick now to hide his scar, physical evidence of his punishments received by Planet. A physical reminder of his mistake. Rufus felt mistakes were for the weak, and in this case he had been the weak one. He had become the very thing he abhorred all his life. He was a disgrace to his name, but he refused to follow in his father’s footsteps. A sneer curled on his lips as his finger came up to the buttons of his inner vest and slowly undid each button with purpose. After it was done he would toss the black vest onto the chair. Taking lead from Dark Nation’s actions: the hound had fully inspected the room and jumped onto the large bed provided in the hotel room. Circling the mattress surface the hound would flop down, long limbs dangling off the sides.

Rufus would continue to undress and find comfort from the heat that had gathered in the room. The air itself was thick, even if the night itself was cool. No ventilation systems to speak of, no air conditioning. He undid the buttons on his slacks and moved to loose the buttons of his white, longsleeved, collared shirt. He would hang the shirt on the back of the chair his vest lay over before allowing his slacks to slide down his legs, leaving him in his boxers. Leaving the pants where they pooled he would begin work on unbuttoning his black, short-sleeved collared shirt as he sunk back onto the bed. He sighed out, the heat getting to him. Though he could have easily opened a window, in his line of work: they always came in through the window.

Patting down his chest he would move to remove his legs from his slacks and take off his shoes in the process of pushing to stand again. He went to his overcoat to retrieve his phone before returning to the bed. Tossing back the covers he laid the phone on the nigthstand and sunk into the sheets, which he pulled over his body. Dark Nation shifted as his master did and allowed its frame to slump over Rufus’ legs, bringing comfort to the obviously stressed man. Dark Nation whined softly and flicked about its sharp ears. Rufus mumbled softly before slipping off to sleep. But sleep did not come peacefully as one would hope. The subconscious worry of his scar had snaked into his sleep and invaded his dreams.



It was the dead of night. He could hear the sirens on the streets below and terror spread through Midgar. He was not sure if his orders were clear. He was not sure if his plan would succeed. It had been the first time he did not know what the result would be. He could still feel the heat of the canon as it charged. The smell of makou was a thick, nauseating scent that he could not forget. The way the makou burned at the nose, drying the back of the throat. He stared into the city. It was unusually dark thanks to the power the canon had required to charge. The ringing of Heidegger’s stupid laugh as the Sister Ray began to hum, the falling rains of glass shards as the cannon fired: it was burned into his memory. He had given the order. It was his action that had been the last straw on the Chocobo’s back.

The Weapon was only collateral damage, his true goal was the barrier on the Northern Crater, but there it was… There it was, staring at him down in the face. He could feel his heart sink when he heard the report. He watched as fire rained hell upon Midgar. The first blast took out the room, the metal of the building protecting him from the impact, but the heat itself burned his body and seared his clothing. If not for the inevitable foreseeability of power he would have not ever considered making that escape hatch. He dropped in as fast as he could, but all he could remember was the searing pain of the burns on his skin and the pain of his ears at the force of impact that devastated the office. He was in that dark hatch for hours, maybe even a whole day, before the shaking stopped… his body trembling from pain and the absolute terror of Weapon’s unpredictability.



Dark Nation worried as his master tossed and turned, body sweating terribly. The Turks were not here and the hound knew of no way to ease the pain of his master. Dark Nation parted his jaws to bark out, but snapped his muzzle closed. He was not supposed to bark at night unless there was an enemy. The fiend looked around, his beady eyes focusing on the curtains drawn over the window. Pushing from his place over Rufus’ legs the best clambered down to the floor and toward the window. Nuzzling his head beneath the curtains he would push up and paw at the window, claws clicking against it. After a few moments of finagling the hound would manage to push open the window. Climbing out he would make his way onto a balcony. Dark Nation stood to peer over the balcony’s edge only to see that there was no way he could jump down. Nothing below to assist in his climbing. Looking up he would see the roof was within reach. The hound jumped onto the table outside the balcony and sprung clear onto the roof with ease. He was determined to find help for his master!

Rufus suddenly woke with a harsh breathe grasping at his chest. He was sweating and felt a pounding ache on his head. He staggered to his feet and made his way to the bathroom, knocking his phone down on the floor, beneath his bed as his hand pressed to the nightstand for stability. Flicking the light on, he rushed to the sink and turned on the faucet, quickly washing his face. He brushed his hands through his hair, slicking back the blond tresses. He looked to his reflection, the scar over his left eye pounding harshly thanks to the flashback. He ran his finger over the injury and sighed. The memories of the pain and the stigma infecting him soon after triggered a phantom pain that probably was not really there, but it was real enough to want to numb it. Rufus left the bathroom, turning off the faucet and light behind him, shutting the door as he left. He made his way over to the mini fridge to search for a drink but as he crouched down and opened it he would, regretfully, find no presence of alcohol. Looking around he would call out to Dark, realizing the beast did not come padding after him into the washroom. It was not uncommon for the executive to not even be able to shower without the nosey hound laying on the tile floors, waiting for him.

“Come.” No response.

Rufus blinked and looked to his side. The curtains were fluttering and he could feel the cool air of the evening spill in. He walked over and pulled the curtains aside. The window was open, and there were pawprints all over the glass. Where did Dark go?

Dark Nation wandered around Traverse Town’s Second District. He approached the closed shops, barking to get their attention. But at this hour all the shops seemed to be closed or unwilling to open for such a terrifying looking beast. The beast made his way to the large doors of the First District. He knew many more people wandered about there. The hound had no thumbs, there was no way he was getting through these doors. And they were there for a reason: to keep something in. Looking around there seemed no other path, except up! Spotting a pile of barrels and a few overhanging awnings the beast would make his way onto the rooftops and jump his way into the First District. The hound would misjudge the distance from the wall that separated the two Districts though. When he jumped across the way onto to roof of another shop he would tumble down into a trap door on the roof, and fall clear into the Moogle’s Workshop. The Moogles, presently working, would panic at the sudden appearance of a beast. Mayhem ensues. While Dark Nation scrambles to his feet, or tries: the hardwood floors prevent the best from getting a grip and he stumbles into a pile of boxes nearby, head landing into one. All the Moogles flutter out of the shop as the beast snarls and tries to murder said box on his head. The tiny pink faeries have no idea what to do, swearing the monster was there to eat them!

He just wanted to help master! Damn it all!

[Deleted]

Relm couldn't sleep tonight, to many thoughts were on her head nowadays.... namely the words of Shadow. 'Clyde Arrowny' Who was that man Shadow killed? And why did he share her last name.....?

Although she couldn't see him, she new Interceptor was likely following her amongnst the shadows, she had asked him to stay home but.... she kinda figured he woudn't obey that order, he always seemed hell bent on keeping her safe, though she didn't mind as long as it made her big friend happy.

She was thrust from her thoughts when she heard frantic 'kupos' and the little moogles themselves running from building.... one Relm recognized from her short time here as their workshop.... what were they running from? All she could hear from them in their panic was the word 'monster' had their shop been attacked? Relm had to find out, she couldn't just stand by and let those poor moogles get hurt! Besides, Terra probably wouldn't like it to much if Relm let it happen anyway!

With these thoughts in mind the young pre-teen thrust the door to their little workshop only to see..... a helpless animal...? THIS is what the moogles were afraid of? Sure, it had an intimidating appearance ... but anyone could tell by its predicament that it was no threat! Relm tried to move as quietly As she could towards the animal, it was already frantic enough without her scaring it further. When she reached it's location she let her hands slowly wrap around the boxes sides and with a quick movement tossed the troublesome obstruction from its face, upon which she could see it resembled a dog, though not of a variety she had seen before, Relm smiled as she greeted the frantic being.

"Hi my names Relm, are you ok?"

She held one head out to the dog in grerting, her palm flat, she didn' really find the dog scary, so why had the moogles run?

[Deleted]

R u f u s S h i n r a

firemasterofcheyenne

Dark Nation was quite the fearsome looking Hound. Their streamline bodies had nearly zero fat and were pure sinews of muscle bound beneath flesh. Growing from the base of their necks, crawling from between their shoulder blades was an augmented growth of spinal column that was bound in a fleshy, pink muscle used as a means of absorbing the regenative properties of their enemies' cells. It was a vampiric ability that was feared by many Gaians and was the source of many horror stories. These fears were only held thanks to the fact that Shinta's private military armed the ends of the tentacles with shape, steel harpoon heads to ensure they would so the most damage in and out. Luckily this was not a component Dark Nation shared. The dagger-like claws in their paws were over three inches in length and their fangs were no game either as they were pure carnivores so each tooth worked for grabbing and tearing meat off bone. Even their tails were deadly weapons. They were short, curved ends which were narrow and sharp, like a dagger's blade. It was hardened keratin, like a dragon's scale or the spiny fin of a Sahagin that could slice clean through flesh. Wild Tentacle Hounds used summersaults against enemies and prey to immobilize them with bleed inducing attacks. Though all Dark did with his was wag it at Rufus affectionately.

The stumbling, bumbling hound was much unlike his fierce facade portrayed. He was a loyal and powerful beast, but he was still a beast. His high intelligence did not prepare him for his sudden fall and tumble into a box. No level of intelligence can prepare a creature with no thumbs for the trial of removing a box stuck on your head! He could hear a human voice, but that only made him struggle more, as humans had thumbs and if they saw him in distress they could help, especially if they were master's humans. Suddenly there was light! The box had been removed, but this was not one of master's humans, nor kin, nor brood. Dark was pretty sure Rufus did not have puppies, for had he spawn, Dark would have tiny killers to train! As was the nature of the voracious Tentacle Hound.

Dark sat and stared at the girl. The Moogle peeked into their shops as the brave little girl took on the monster. They all squeaked and chirped ‘kupo!’ as they fluttered back into their shop. Dark pushed to stand, only for the Moogles to scatter again, hiding under various boxes and behind workbenches in their shop. Dark’s cropped ears perked straight up, giving his face an angular appearance known of Hounds. He looked toward the window and padded toward it, his curved, bladed tail wagging a bit. He stood to place his paws on the window sill and looked out. A deep woof escaped his muzzle as he looked back at Relm, looking outside in indication. He had no collar or any mark of domestication. Most Tentacle Hounds were given their Harpoon sheaths or had armored masks to protect their eyes during combat, but the spoiled hound was never provided with such complications. Rufus enjoyed simplicity and he was not given toward extra, unnecessary pleasantries. Speaking of the man in white, the frazzled executive left his room in little more than his suit pants and black shirt. Without his white jacket it was easy to see the shotgun holster on his waist for his weapon. He never left home without it. It was his ticket out of many a hairy situations.

The executive’s hair was barely kempt, the only routine was making sure his bangs fell over his already old scar. It was fully healed and was hardly ugly, but the blemish was a burning reminder that death was always inches away no matter how powerful one thought themselves to be. The humbling mark was not something he ever wished to speak of because it was a reminder he had made a mistake. The man was proud and admitting his own mistakes were hard enough but constantly carrying the reminder that his well laid plans were cast asunder by an angry Planet, and the possibility of it happening again, he would never again stand to face it. But this was a strange occurrence. Dark Nation never left his side when they were on a foreign world. What could have gotten into that hound? Of all the people Rufus has had by his side, there were many he predetermined as untrustworthy, and of all those individuals Tseng and Dark were the ones personally placed upon these pedestals. He knew how Tseng’s mind worked and the man would never think of betraying him because he only thought of what was best for the company, Planet. he was loyal to his ideals and that was something Rufus could trust. The Turks that followed were handpicked, groomed and raised under Shinra ideals, but those were the old ideals of his father and if they could not change, they would die in the wake of his errors.

So far the Turks remained a symbol of power and peace for the Shinra Company.

So, all by his lonesome, the man braved the dangerous night streets of Traverse Town in search of his companion and loyal guard. His shirt was buttoned up as much as he cared to try and his slacks lacking the usual weight of his PHS, which he left charging in his room. He would brave the Second District in search of Dark Nation.