by CharyouTree » Thu Feb 17, 2011 1:09 pm
Tracker Dog Application Series 6
Username: MishaMinion
Tracker Dog you want: #17
Name you'll give it: Whiskey
Reason why you want it: I've always been a fan of the trackers (although it's more of a secret love), and althought I do already have one, I'm looking to get another to be a main character in story I've been working on. This guy has the perfect look, purpose, and I've already got tons of ideas for him.
Will it be used in any kind of story?: Yes ^^ (see above)
Describe its personality:
Whiskey is a very focused and intelligent tracker. His specialized training in a city enviroment gives him a certain determination to get things done, and get them done right. He very rarely ever gets distracted from a mission, and he will never let personal things get in his way. His ability to make difficult decisions in a short amount of time makes him extrememly efficient. The only thing that ever holds him back is his short temper, ecspecially when it comes to his partner. The difference in priorities makes Whiskey feel like he's responsible for both of their jobs. This keeps him from noticing the details that he usually focuses on to get the job done right.
Write an introduction for your Tracker:
The scents of blank faced people, foggy exhaust, wailing car horns, and loudly ringing bells. This was the everyday world of the tracker dog, Whiskey. Today, his owner had given him a mission: to track down a drug dealer who'd been evading the police for months now, but was still managing to get his product into the system. When the cops couldn't catch them, they sent Whiskey in.
This job wasn't much different from most. It involved all the standard procedures. First was to find a scent. His owner had given him a old article of clothing that belonged to the dealer, and now Whiskey stood at an intersection trying to catch the faint scent underneath the everyday smells of the streets. For several minutes he stood almost paralyzed, trying to find it. And suddenly, there it was.
Whiskey immediately formed an image of the scent trail in his mind. It appeared at a silvery blue in the midst of the black and white fuzz of what he initially pictured. Weaving carefully through hurried feet past the brightly flashing lights of a casino, he followed the trail easily to the steps of a small resturaunt. The scent was strong here, much stronger than it had been at the intersection for sure. He could tell now that this is where the man was. As he was about to enter, a familiar smell hit him briefly, and was accompanied by a fleeting shadow. His partner, an aerial tracker, was keeping up on what was happening from up above.
Trying to stay focused, Whiskey ignored this and tried to find the easiest access to the buidling. Quietly, he circled until he found a half opened window. Using his muzzle, the tracker pried open the window the rest of the way and leaped nimbly into the room. The first thing that hit him was the intense smell of drugs. A weakness of Whiskey's, that that startling scent, that hit him like a roundhouse kick every time. The few seconds that he was stunned was all the drug dealer needed. He had been sitting at his desk when the tracker jumped in, and now he had leaped to his feet with a gun in hand. He clumsily fired a shot at Whiskey.
The sound in the small room was deafening for the man, but it was enough to startle Whiskey back into action. The dealer had fallen to the ground clutching his head. Whiskey took two large leaps, then sunk his sharp teeth into the hand that held the gun. It was dropped immediately, and accompanied by a scream of agony. From here, the work was over. All the tracker had to do was keep the man pinned, which he happily did. Holding his neck down firmly with his teeth, he waited for the team to arrive. Minutes later, they did. They cuffed the dealer securely, and hauled him off to the back of a police car. Whiskey watched this expressionlessly. As always, his owner and the team praised him for his work, and as always, Whiskey recieved this passively.
p.s- I'm sorry if the story is a little short. I already typed it once, but it took me around an hour and I was automatically logged off, so I lost the whole thing. This is a recreation.

"Open your blessed wings
And wrap them around all your things
Keep yourself in the company of kings
Cause it's their hands that bleed from the strings"
My first thought was, he lied in every word
That hoary cripple, with malicious eye
Askance to watch the working of his lie
On mine, and mouth scarce able to afford
Suppression of the glee that pursed and scored
Its edge at one more victim gained thereby.