“Stay…” she ordered, drawing out the word.  She could see the group of dogs freeze.

I wonder if the drawing out of the word actually has an effect on the doggos’ understanding of it.

She had a routine with her dogs.  The first priority was making sure they were healthy.  That meant grooming and possibly shaving them, getting their records and shots updated if they hadn’t come from the shelter, cleaning their ears, and ensuring they were kept away from the other dogs so she could check the color and consistency of their shit and track any changes.

Sounds quite professional. But hey, that’s to be expected. It’s the one thing she really cares about and she’s been doing it for a long time.

Shit revealed a lot about the dog it came from, from the obvious of diet to general health to mood.  An unhappy dog had unhealthy shit.

Many unhappy humans also have a lot of unhealthy shit to deal with.

…in a less literal sense, perhaps.

The second step was training, and every dog got some dedicated attention.  ‘Sit’ was the first command they learned, followed closely by ‘stay’, ‘off’, ‘fetch’ and ‘come’.

Very useful ones, good place to start.

Depending on the dog, it could take a couple of days before they had it down solid.  These commands were absolutes.  If a dog didn’t listen to each of those, it wasn’t allowed to go out, and it didn’t get any use of her power.

Yeah, makes sense. Can’t bring along a dog you can’t call off.

Bentley and the rest of her pack drew towards the source of the howling.  Sirius stood outside an apartment block, filling the evening with that mournful, haunting sound that carried through the air.

Heya!

She hopped down from Bentley’s back, and used the back of her hand to wipe away some of the sweat, mucus and blood that had transferred from his back to her inner thigh.  “Sirius!  Good boy!”

Yes, a very good boy. :Å)

He wagged his tail, and the tip of it made trails in the water.

There is seriously no getting away from water in Brockton Bay these days.

“Sirius, guard!” she pointed toward the front door of the building.  “Bentley!  Guard!” She pointed at the little emergency exit at the side.

Hm. So is this her target, then? Or is it home?

The two dogs moved to their respective positions.

Good doggos.

“Sit!”  Her dogs all sat.  She noted Magic was a little slower than the rest to obey.  Would Magic have listened if the other dogs hadn’t been here?

Hm, who knows.

If she hadn’t been following along with the others?  Bitch made a mental note.

I thought she already did. I guess “noted” was just meant as “noticed”, then, fair enough.

But this was her territory.  Her space.  Finally a place where she could do what she wanted.  Here, she was free, and that meant she could be dirty.

Be dirty, and play dirty?

Also, without the direct influence of the remaining Undersiders, it’s possible we’ll be getting some brutal behavior even without following the Slaughterhouse.

She could go where she wanted, hurt anyone who got in her face.

Case in point.

She could roam free with her dogs and try her power on them without worrying about people getting hurt.

Excellent.

Which wasn’t to say that people wouldn’t get hurt, of course.  Just that it was her territory, and she was allowed to make the call.

…oh.

Anyone who hadn’t gotten the message already deserved what they got.

Basically, stay indoors or you might get maimed by Bitch’s dogs.

If she did it really well, they would all leave.

Hehe, sure seems like it.

Then she could be alone for a while, alone with her dogs.  Nobody would be able to nag her about the fact that she hadn’t given the henchman thing a try.  Fuck it.

Gotta admit, I like the line of thinking here.

She already had all of the assistance she needed.  The best, most loyal kind.

The doggo kind.

Lucy appeared from a nearby street, making her excitement known with a noise that was half bark and half something else.

She ran alongside Bentley.

Yo, Lucy!

Hang on, I’m going to go tell a friend named Lucy that she just showed up in Worm.

If they didn’t complain by the time they were through checking and taking care of all of her dogs, maybe they would start when the next batch arrived from the shelters, and they were told they had to do all of those dogs on top of starting afresh with all the ones they had done before.

Mwahaha.

The moment someone did complain?  Or if they let one tick, one rash or one ear infection slip?  She could make an example of them.  Humiliate them, scare them, insult them.

Ahh, so that’s what she’s waiting for. The chance to put the fear of dog into them.

Specifically the dog named Rachel “Bitch” Lindt.

If she did it well enough, they’d leave.

…well, at least they’d still act as an example for the rest.

So does Rachel just want an excuse to get rid of the humans so she can do things on her own?

Barker or Biter would be the ones to whine about the task first.

Subordinates, got it.

Well, at least Barker’s bark is probably worse than his bite.

They had powers.  They had expected to be in charge, to be her lieutenants.

Except that role went to dogs, didn’t it.

The looks on their faces when she’d given them their tasks had made her day.

Hehe, at least she’s enjoying herself.

Nothing like putting someone in their place.

Yeah.

It wasn’t that she wouldn’t take care of herself.  She would, just like she took care of her dogs.  Just as she groomed each of them twice a week or more, she would tend to herself.

Just not in the ways, or with the frequency, expected from a human being?

But what did some scruff on her legs matter when she was treading down flooded streets or caked in mud up to her knees half the time anyways?

…fair point.

What did some body odor mean, if she didn’t even like the people who were around to be offended by it?

Hehe. I can’t argue.

Barker, Biter and the others would be at the locations she had assigned them.  She had given them the most menial of tasks.  Grooming the dogs, feeding the dogs, picking up shit, checking the dogs for sores, cuts, ear infections and ticks like she’d showed them.

I’m sure they’re loving that.

She had a good number of dogs in her care, now.  Most had been taken from kennels that hadn’t been in a state to help the animals since Leviathan attacked.

Oh yeah, I’m sure there are a lot of those now.

She was eagerly anticipating the moment someone complained.

You mean out of your subordinates, or out of the people at the kennels?

His enthusiasm was infectious.  She bared her teeth in a wide grin, then whooped, adding her voice to the cacophony.

Niice.

She hopped up his side, gripping ridges of hard muscle and bony growths so she could throw one leg over his other shoulder.  A spike of bone scratched her upper thigh, beneath her skirt, but she didn’t care.  It was nothing.

Ow.

Also, I never really pictured Rachel as the type to wear skirts for some reason. Fair enough.

“Go, Bentley!” She urged him.  He surged forward like an arrow loosed from a bow.

So what are we doing? Claiming territory? Chasing Fenrir’s Chosen out of it?

I don’t remember if it’s been stated yet, but I have no doubt Rachel will be dealing with Fenrir’s Chosen like Taylor had to deal with the Merchants. Hookwolf is just too perfect as a rival to Rachel for that not to be the case.