Wolf & Coyote Mercenary Services [Looney Tunes AU]

Episode 21: Call Me a Sinner, Call Me a Saint

WARNING: This chapter dips a bit into the discussion of mental illness, including but not limited to: psychosis, depression, trauma, and suicidal ideations. Please read with caution and take care of yourself.

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Returning aboveground, George offers to let Ralph and Furrball. stay for the night. Furrball, not entirely comfortable with the idea of sleeping among dogs, parts ways with them instead. Both alone in the old shack, Ralph and George have a couple of drinks before going to bed.

Lying awake on the couch, thoughts surge in Ralph's mind, incapable of slowing down to rest. George, noticing his discomposure, breaks the silence. "You've been pretty quiet since we left the Underground. Did something happen down there?"

Thrown off-guard, Ralph hesitates before answering. "I ran into Anubis."

"I thought you smelled a bit funny," he says snidely.

"He said he had info on the business trades in the Underground, including the Tears of Isis. But in exchange, I had to do him some... favors."

George's sleepy expression contorts into one of worry. "You didn't... You can't be that desperate–"

"It's nothing like that, thank God. But I can't say it was pleasant, either. He took me to this place called The Dungeon, and the basement looked like some kind of medieval torture chamber. Then I saw the weapons on the wall and knew exactly what it's for."

"The Dungeon... I've never been there myself, but the rumors I heard are pretty gruesome. Anyone who gets invited there often doesn't return."

"It's a den for bloodthirsty deviants. For villains like me." He lets out a shameful laugh. "When he and I were making our exchange, I learned a lot about him, things he tried to hide from the world above. And the more he spoke... the more it felt like staring at my own reflection. A reflection of a broken dog, one pushed into violence and madness in an attempt to hide his own insecurities."

The Basset hound doesn't respond right away, silently choosing his words with care. "Ralph... Sorry for breaking up with you."

Confused, Ralph sits up and turns towards him. "The hell...? George, that was two years ago. I'm over it by now."

"I know. Still, since that night, I felt like if I said something different, if I considered how you would've felt, you wouldn't have ended up in such a dark spot."

Two years ago. The time Ralph calls his darkest moment, an inky black stain on his already muddied excuse of a life. The incident in question is but a hazy blur now, but from how Sam described it during the aftermath, it was harrowing. He was sent to a psych ward, prescribed medications, and attended multiple therapy sessions, yet the memory was never made clearer. "There's no point in mulling over the past. Moving forward is all we can do. Besides, I think we're both happier this way." With a sentimental smile, he adds, "Even if things didn't work out between us, I'm grateful to have you as a friend."

Smiling back, George utters, "Same here, buddy."

***

Daylight shines through the bedroom window, brushing upon the tawny wolf's fur as he squirms out of his slumbering state. As he gets up, he senses an emptiness beside him. It takes him but a second to recall what–or rather, who–is missing.

The bedroom door slams open and he rushes into the living room. "Boss, Wile's gone missing! He's–"

"Relax, Duey." On the couch, Wyatt sits casually, coffee mug in hand. "The kid said he's feeling better, so I called a taxi to ride him home." He takes a sip.