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The man's steps echoed through the empty factory, muffled by the pained cries of... Possibly, a dog? Volpe hurried, worried that the finicky underboss might be hurting some poor defenceless animal.
All his worries turned into confusion as he stepped through the threshold of what would have been the supervisor's office. Vinegar Doppio agressively held a bloody brick in his hands, pointing it at a... Very hairy man who curled up by the corner, holding his dirty shirt up to show his belly.
"What the-", Massimo commented, calling the attention of the operative, who turned to him with remains of murder in his eyes. "OoOh, mistur Volpe! Hello! Boss told me you would've showed up, yessir!", Doppio spoke, turning around, all anger gone from his expression as if someone else had been beating the poor man up, "Now, I know he said he'd be here, but y'know... We've had some bumps in the road with that".
Massimo's confused gaze turned towards the wounded man Doppio pointed with a nod of his head. The man whined like a dog, still exposing his hair-covered belly towards the two. Was he... Expressing submission? Like an animal? "Ah... I didn' see nuffin', I swear! Wasjus' wonderin' round, lookin' fer food... Please, please sor, lemme go!", he cried out, eyes darting between one man and the other. Doppio snarled out a 'be quiet', throwing the brick at the man with seemingly unprompted anger. The object knocked out the begging man, landing on the ground with a dry clunk. The underboss turned back to the drug manufacturer with a saccharine grin, patting his own hands to get rid of the brick's dust. Good lord, did this guy scare the crap out of Volpe. Diavolo never told him how /related/ they were and by now he did not want to know. The less the two of them interacted, the better.
"This so-and-so has been up to some liver-stealing around your home, so boss told me!", explained the purple clad man, shaking his head in disapproval. Doppio even crossed his arms and tisked thrice. "Now, it's none of my business whether you can defend your territory or not...", spoke the underboss, shooting Volpe a smug glance, "Either way, boss was kind enough to drag this bastard back here. Free kill for you". Massimo's brow furrowed, as his gaze drifted down to the unconscious man. A drop of blood rolled down from his nose, disappearing into the depths of his unkempt beard.
Doppio walked past him, patting him in the shoulder twice. "Foxes need all the hand-outs they get, right?", commented the second-in-command with an arrogant grin, exiting the abandoned office. Volpe did not reply, did not turn back, took a deep breath.
The man let out a ragged breath, hands and feet twitching erratically. Was this man truly an organ harvester? He... Did not look the part. At all. He looked more like a homeless hippie than a ruthless thug. Volpe shook his head with a sigh. Diavolo was always too anxious. Hell, he suspected a turtle Doppio once used as 'phone' was a stand user. Angelica asked if the call was slow to come through, when Massimo told the rest.
The drug manufacturer chuckled softly at the memory. He stepped forward, crouching in front of the sleeping man. When he reached out to rouse him from his slumber, the harvester's head shot up, eyes wide, glowing behind a curtain of long hair, mouth chomping down on the other's hand.
Volpe expected it to hurt... But it was as painful as a puppy's bite. Still, there were pretty deep teeth marks on his hand.
The other man seemed ten times more shocked than him, shuffling back, squatting with his hands splayed out on the ground in front of him. "I... I'm so sorry, you were the one who didn' wanna hurt me... I didn' know that was you, right now... I-I thought it was the other guy", the man apologized, backing up further against the wall. The man fell into a sitting position, once again lifting up his shirt to expose his belly, gaze lowered in submission. Massimo spread and curled his fingers, testing the wound. Nothing hurt.
The drug manufacturer ripped a bit of cloth from his suit to wrap around his own hand. He knew better than to have exposed wounds in such a place. Then, he looked into the other's eyes, causing him to fidget and whine even more. "Are you really an organ harvester?", asked Massimo, getting up and offering a helping hand to the other. The bearded man blinked up at him, looked back at the hand, sniffed it, pushed it with his head and only then did he use it to push himself up. Volpe was certifiedly weirded out.
"Yea, uhm... I s'ppose. S'like, I find dead bodies all the time, an' most of the time no one wants 'em, yannow, so i jus' take some things they won't be needin' anymore... Folks, uh, they started callin' me /The Bloodhound/ because a' that, see, an' I, uh, I jus' sell stuff like lungs... An' such of those guttyworks...", explained the man, rubbing his hand where the brick hit him. He shot weary looks at the cloth around Massimo's arm. Volpe narrowed his eyes, stepping closer to the man. It did not matter to him who died in his territory and what happened to their corpses.
However, what if this Bloodhound man decided to attack the living? What if he targeted Vitt- well, that would be his funeral. What if he targeted Angelica?
Bloodhound must have felt Massimo's intentions, because he backed himself up against the wall with a terrified yelp. "NnNow, wait! I-I-I didn' do anythin' of that sort here! This is drug territory! Yer gorey-works are as good as rottin' meat!", yowled the man, cowering once again by the corner, his entire body trembling, "Nuh-No offence! S'jus there are no takers, man!".
Volpe stepped back. This man was obviously a weakly coward. Much of a 'Bloodhound' he was, getting scared by a fox. Seeing the other backdown, the bearded man got up again, hunched over in fear. Massimo wished that he found it himself to be disgusted at this man, at his job. Wished he could find it in himself to take the 'free kill", like Doppio had suggested. Yet, how could he? How could he when the drugs he made ended up in the hands of young kids?
"Just go. Turn tail and run. Do not let my boss hear of your existence ever again. Do not come back, or I will kill you", Volpe commanded, no trace of a threat behind his words. Massimo simply told the truth. The man whimpered and bolted past the other, bare feet kicking against the cold concrete.
Yet, he paused at the threshold, coming to a sudden stop, hand gripping the frame of the former door. The Bloodhound looked back, a trace of guilt in his eyes. "Ah... Actually, it'd be best if I stayed a while longer... You might find it difficult to return home, sor", muttered the bearded man, fingers tapping against the rotted wood.
Volpe furrowed his brow, the corner of his lip turning back into a snarl. Was that a threat? And odd threat Massimo did not exactly understand? The drug manufacturer stepped towards the other, curling his fingers into a fist.
He flinched when the palms of his hands were punctured by his own nails. Confused, he looked down to see sharp claws, alike a carnivore, protecting his fingers instead of his nails. His fingers, growing in width while long white fur spread out from the teeth indentions.
A flash of pain rippled through him, sending him to his knees. Eyes wide, teeth exposed in fury, he growled at the bearded man, who bolted yet again out the door and out of his sight. The sound of four paws hitting the ground, getting farther away with each passing second, reached him, but it did not concern him.
He focused on his hands, which were right in front of him, losing their length in trade for sharp nails and rough, thick pads on the tip of his fingers and in the center of his palm. The white hair now grew in patches of dark brown, too, rough to the touch and proceeding further up his arm.
He followed its trail with his eyes, followed the trail of the bursting stitches of his coat as it gave under the expansion of his muscles, tufts of fur peeking out of the holes left behind. Another jolt of agony made him hunch further down, elbows supporting his weight as well, hands on the back of his head.
The stinging was now concentrated on his face, his jaw, which elongated forwards, forcing the bridge of his nose to ride up, as its tip hardened, six large whiskers growing below it. Massimo spat out four teeth as other four, now specialized for cutting through meat, grew in their place. His canine teeth did not drop, but grew in size, forcing aside its companions as they nearly curled around his lips, now black and stretching back up to the very back of his mouth.
He kicked uselessly against the concrete floor, trying relentlessly to stop the waves of pain that surged through him as his body slowly changed. Rolling on his back, he watched as the claws on his feet tore through the front of his shoes. The transformation of his ears, becoming more pointed and rising upward on his skull, startled him, hands (paws?) leaving their place immediately and trying to regain some grip on the floor.
Massimo managed to get up just as the pain faded away. In awe, he touched his face, his shoulders, his chest and legs. He could not believe what had happened. This could not be real. No. He must have been under the effects of some drug, he thought, racking his brain for knowledge of any drug that specificaly made the victim think they were being transformed into... A large, humanoid, most likely arctic, fox.
His hands lingered on the back of his hips, some bolts of discomfort still ringing in that place.
To add insult to injury, he felt a fluffy white tail growing out, around the place where his tailbone would be. He groaned in shame. Fluffy was certainly not the best look for him.
He remained conscious, aware he was /supposed/ to be human. That made matters slightly better, as he could focus on returning to his original form. It would be difficult to make it back home, though.