Sparrowhawk: One Lucky Dog

"I'm sorry, what?" Alex Harper, the heroine Sparrowhawk, asked over the open communicator as she punched an armored mercenary in the neck and swung him around, using him to smash into another approaching man poised to attack her.

It wasn't the distraction of the call or even the timing. Sure, Sparrowhawk was tending to business when a priority call was received. She was excellent at multi-tasking, even when that meant she was actually engaged in combat with the villain known as Steel Gorgon and his band of merry mercenaries. While waiting on a response, she flipped upwards, her foot connecting squarely with another man's chin. She thought they answered but the gunfire then went off from two of them, to which she moved about deftly to avoid as the ground littered with a hail of bullets. Her arms went out and to the side as two shimmering, bio-electric batons were summoned. With a mighty leap as she ran almost faster than the eye could see, Sparrowhawk twisted about, the batons striking both men and discharging a wave of energy, forcing them into convulsions.

"You'll have to excuse me," Sparrowhawk noted to the person on the other end of the line. "It's a bit hard to hear. I was being shot at. One moment, please."

The best was saved for last, Steel Gorgon himself. The seven foot nine inch behemoth stood in front of the shipment of goods that Sparrowhawk was after. His mouth pulled back into a smile, revealing row upon row of sharp white teeth that contrasted against the slimy green scales upon his body. His muscles tensed visibly as he prepared for a fight, claws upon his hands twitching back and forth.

Sparrowhawk rolled her eyes, her batons fading out as she walked calmly to the slithering menace. "I don't have time for this, you know. This call was to be urgent."

Before Steel Gorgon could even make one step towards her, she reflexes had already kicked in. Unlocking both Black Valkyrie pistols from her belt, she shot round after round directly into his kneecaps. Her enemy screamed so loud that for blocks his cries of anguish could be heard as he fell onto the floor, crying pitifully as attempting to tend to his legs in vain.

"Shh! I'm on the phone!" Sparrowhawk said, annoyed. She holstered her weapons.

"Miss... Sparrowhawk? Is everything okay over there?" the person over the comm, sounding like an older woman, asked with a bit of fear in her voice.

"Oh, I'm fine now. Just ignore the wailing in the background. What can I do for you?" Sparrowhawk replied, putting one hand over the ear not receiving the comm.

"Well, we were going through our records. Mr. Craig Carson, Thundrax. He has you listed as a contact in case of emergencies or in the event of something happening to him," the woman replied meekly.

"Thundrax. Yes," Sparrowhawk replied. Thundrax had served as a Protector during the team's first year and a half, she reminded herself for why she might be a contact. And as far as an emergency... well, Thundrax was 'dead' right now. Or as dead as the revolving door people in their line of work seemed to have uncannily. Though he was gone, at least for now. Whatever it was, she was there for him.

"Could we meet today at 7:30? At Craig Carson's home? There is something we have for you," the woman replied, her voice straining. She was trying to hide something, Sparrow noted. Or at the very least not be upfront.

"Hm. Of course," Sparrow answered. "I'll be there."

True to her word, Sparrowhawk arrived exactly on time. It had only been a week before that she had been here before to discuss business with Thundrax, and the thought of his 'last words' clung to her as she approached the door to his penthouse and was let in. Buzzing in, an older well dressed woman greeted her. It was no one she had met before through Craig which she found interesting. Though as soon as they exchanged their hellos, Sparrowhawk realized this was the person she had spoken with earlier.

"I'm so glad you could come!" the woman said, the lines on her face crinkling as she smiled to her. "I'm Edina Smith, it's wonderful to meet you! I've read so much about you in the news. You look prettier in person, you know. So happy you could carry out Mr. Carson's wishes..."

"About that," Sparrowhawk noted, her eyes going to and fro as the two of them walked into the luxuriously decorated home to check on anything amiss as was her custom. "You never did say what exactly Craig had for me."

They reached the entrance of the living room as the woman called out. "Hobo? HOBO... come on out, honey!" A large german shepherd excitedly ran out from a room at the back hall. It was male and had a golden-brown coat and a black face with a ring of black around its neck. He sat before them, his tail hitting the floor like a drum as it wagged up and down. Full, lively canine eyes met Sparrowhawk's currently less-than-amused gaze.

"It's a dog," Sparrowhawk said, not missing a beat.

"Yes, yes," the Ms. Smith answered. "He was rescued just last week by Mr. Carson from the SPCA shelter in Windsor..."

"And I was his emergency contact," Sparrowhawk replied, her eyes still intent on the way-too-peppy dog.

"Yeeeeeeees," Ms Smith stated, drawing the word out for a good fifteen seconds. She went over to the dog and let him sniff her hand. He licked it greedily like there was a treat in her hand (though there wasn't).

"So. The dog is... mine?"

"Unless, you see, you don't want him," Ms Smith said, her hand now covered in dog slobber. "In that case he will have to go back to the shelter, I'm afraid. There are so, so many dogs that need a loving home. I suppose if you don't want to carry out Mr. Carson's wishes that is fine. Maybe... somehow... Hobo can perhaps find someone else to love him. It's so hard to say, though. With the crowded conditions at shelters and the fact he isn't a puppy, he may never.."

"Oh my God," Sparrowhawk said, putting her gloved hand up in almost partial disgust at the woman's words. It was like she had super powers. Maybe Sparrowhawk met her match finally: Ms Smith, the evil GUILT COMPLEX. "Listen, I'll take him. I'll take him and I'll love him. He'll be a welcome sight at the Barlowe, I'm sure."

"Excellent!" Ms Smith replied, her voice shrill momentarily from the answer. "There's just a few pieces of paperwork to fill out. I'll go get them, they are right in the kitchen. Don't go anywhere!!!"

The older woman left the room, humming a soft tune as she did so. Sparrowhawk approached the dog and let it smell her hand. It licked her softly a few times and she then bent down on her knee. This wasn't the turn of events she was expecting, but this is what she got. The dog leaned in, his wet tongue rolling over her goggles and face.

"So. Hobo, hm?" Sparrow said to the dog as he continued to accost her with a facial tongue bath. The dog was... not so bad. The name, though? "Ugh, Craig. Let's shoot for something else... maybe something Craig might even find more fitting. Let's call you... Thunder."