As the police led Ray to what they found, he felt himself getting anxious. When they found what they were looking for, Ray nearly vomited. Four had-been wolves sat in a circle, each facing towards the middle, shot right between the eyes, the back of their heads painted red; the Red Riders' calling card. But why such a brazen strike in the middle of the day? Ray had no clue; the Pack and the Riders had been seeing eye to eye for a while. A few scuffles here and there, but nothing that warranted this. Ray was worried; if the Riders and the Pack were killing them in such a manner, it only meant one thing; war.
B. Wolfe was livid, his Pack telling him what happened. He had already crushed a glass in his paw, and was eyeing the amber liquid splayed across his desk. "Why would Red make such an affront," he asked himself. "We were doing so good for so long. Well...guess the times are changing." Wolfe cleared his throat, and grabbed his phone. Dialing his lieutenants, the large gray wolf spoke, his voice both stern and commanding. "Little Red wants a war, and we're gonna give it to her."
Little Red was reading the news, when she came across these murders. "What's this now?" She perused the article slowly, taking in every word, before shouting "I didn't order this!" The little vixen threw the newspaper into her fireplace, and paced. "Someone's copy-catting, why? What psychopath wants a war between me an' the wolf?" Little Red was worried; she inherited the gang from her grandmother, who was somewhere on her island soaking up rays and scotch. After a few more minutes of pacing, the vixen sat back down, just as her lieutenants arrived. "Ladies and gentlmen. Someone's framed us, and I sense the wolf is looking for revenge. Tell our guys to be safe, and keep their heads down, no need to cause an unnecessary outbreak of violence."
Topic: Tales from Underway (Read 9121 times)