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It's roughly 8pm. 101 black and white dogs return to their home in 101 Dalmatian Street, one more distraught and tired than the last. The last few days had been... terrifying, to put it quaint. Trying to escape one puppynapper and then almost getting transformed into a fur coat by another... None of the dalmatians had it easy. Especially not Dylan and Dolly. Opening the door, those two waited until everyone was inside.

"94... 95... 96... Where's Dorothy?! Oh dog, oh dog, oh dog-" Dylan freaks out, until... Chomp! Dylan feels a soft, but slightly strong bite on his tail. "There you are... Phew..." Dylan sighs. Normally Dolly would joke or say something quippy, but not this time. She knew why Dylan was so fearful, and she knew Dylan had all right to be. Doug and Delilah, the parents, entered at last. "This was... terrifying... I think we both need a day or three off..." Delilah shudders. Doug silently agrees.

They all tried settling into a somewhat less tense atmosphere, which is hard after almost getting furred. Not even Deepak was calm, and he's probably the calmest among the puppies. To say that their life would be normal would be a lie for quite some time. Some puppies still sniffled slightly, some were still shaking, and some had worse issues, for example Da Vinci. She was already shy and didn't talk much, rather expressing themself through art, but... now Da Vinci had that clouded look. The look she always had whenever she was stressed or overwhelmed, except it was worse this time. Dough accidentaly hit them with his tail and... Da Vinci didn't even react. No twitch, no shuffling back, not even a small "Ouch". Just... nothing.

Once everyone was somewhat calmed and could actually sleep Delilah, Doug, Dylan and Dolly sat down in the attic. They needed to have a serious talk. They sat in uncomfortable silence for quite a while. "...I'm so-" Delilah tries to say, but Dolly cuts her off. "Why did you never tell us?! All this time there was some- some- some maniac out there who has a vendetta against our family and wants to turn us into fur coats and you didn't tell us?!" Dolly shouts. Delilah looks at Doug. "Sigh... To tell the truth, we thought she'd be dead by now. She should be, at this point. She's, what? 100 years old? Most humans are dead by this age. I'm guessing her vengefulness and hatred fueled her life..." Delilah mutters. She really doesn't want to even think about the Devil Woman. "After my great-great-grandpa Patch thwarted her plans a second time she was put into a mental institute and actually forgot about her hatred of the family. She even gave a job to their pet, Anita." 

Dolly and Dylan glance at her with a confused look. "So why did she attack us again? Why now of all times?" Dylan asks.

"The peace lasted for... quite a long time, but not forever. After a... malheur with our family she began to hate us again, which also made her regain her memories," Doug explains. "It... never got as serious as what happened to us, though..."

Silence once again. Dolly scowls before turning towards the stairs going downwards. "I thought you trusted us..." she mutters and goes towards the bedroom. "...Dolly..." Delilah says with worry. 

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10:37pm, near a moderately sized road in Camden. A teenage boy, roughly 14 years old, walks down a road he knows all too well, the road leading to De Vil Tower, one of the last things left in the possession of his great-aunt Cruella. Rounding the corner, he notices a few police officers. "So... Why are we here?" one of the officers asks. "Something about a woman trying to dognap some dalmatians and then wanting to... turn them into fur coats? Don't ask me, this case isn't really my usual stuff," the other officer says. "Dognapping and trying to fur dogs? Why would anyone- ...Actually, could you remind me of who this place belongs to?" The second officer checks a notepad or something similar, the boy couldn't really tell. "Cruel... Cruella? De... Vil? ...Cruella De Vil. Right. ...God, we need a new guy for these notes..." The first officer laughs. "The De Vil lady? Really? And let me guess, those dogs were dalmatians, about 101, weren't they?" Silence. "Holy hell... That woman really hates that race, eh?" The chief calls out to the two officers. "Are ya done talking? We don't have all day to make sure the building's secured!" The two policemen scowl, but get back to work.

The boy in the meantime went to an alleyway that lead to the buildings dumpster and basement area. "...Let's just hope they won't check down here..." he mutters. He had quite the day. His great-aunt apparently is a puppycidal maniac, the only family he had any somewhat good connection to probably hates or majorly distrusts him. Not to mention that he is one of the reasons that that family most likely has trauma now. Was his great-aunts obsession something that has gone on for longer? Or was it recent? Did she actually love him or did she just- "No! Aunty loved me! ...Right...? ...Sigh... Get a grip, Hunter. Aunty wouldn't have taken you in if she didn't love you... right?" Hunter was conflicted. He loved his great-aunt, she took him in after his parents... Is there anyone left for him? Who to turn to when your great-aunt's a puppycidal maniac and the only family you know probably either hates or distrusts you? Family? Gone. Friends? Never had any. Well, except for... "Dylan... Urgh... Why did I even listen to her?! I should've figured that all that spying, lying, tricking and more wasn't for anything good! God damn it! Why do I always mess things up?!" Hunter argued with himself mentally until he reached a room in good enough condition to actually sleep in for a while. He made himself a makeshift bed out of some cloth and old boxes that were lying around.

Hunter woke up in a dark room, machines around him and a mixture of wine, smoke and dog in the air. "Hunter...~" a voice calls out. "Hunter...~" Hunter knows this voice. "Aunty?" He asks. A few footsteps can be heard. "There you are...~" It was Cruella, except she looked... wrong. Monstrous. A smell of intoxicating smoke and a distinct mix of wine and furred dog surrounded her. Cruella wore a fur coat? Or some parts of her skin was dalmatian fur? It was all just so... wrong. "Where have you been?~ Your aunty had been so busy and could have used your help.~" Hunter shuffled backwards. "I-I- I was-" he stutters. "Silence! You were supposed to helpp me! Yet here I was, having to fur these fleabags by myself!" Cruella? screamed. "But... I may still have use for you.~" she coos in a horrifying voice.

"Argh!" Hunter awoke in a sweat. "W-where-" He looks around. He's just in some storage room. Right. Where else should he be. "J-just a nightmare..." he sighs. He got up to get something to drink. Most things were way past their expiration date, except for... "Carrot Juice... Great," he said sarcastically. He forced the juice down his throat and went back to sleep.

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Somewhere near the outskirts of London, in a prison... "Miss De Vil, you have visitors," a guard opens the door to Cruella's cell. Leading her into the visiting space, Cruella recognizes her visitors. "What are those numbskulls doing here?!" Cruella curses under her breathe. "30 minutes, De Vil. Not more than that," the officer says and turns to leave.

"Cruella! We thought we'd visit you! We got you a get-well-soon gift!" the lanky one of the visitors says. He pulls out the gift, a black and white polka dotted purse. The mere sight of this "gift" makes Cruella livid, but she manages to calm herself. "Thank you, but I've gotten an idea for a better gift," she says through gritted teeth. "Oh! What is it? A mug?" the more burly one asks.
These idiots have come to visit her? Seriously? "No, you dimwit! I want you to do something for me," she says. Her plan? Get revenge on those flearidden mutts once and for all!" She's Cruella De Vil, the worlds best fashionista and furrier! She's not just gonna go down because of some dogs! "I want you two to give some dogs what they deserve," she says. "Blankets and chew toys?" Cruella can't help but facepalm. "Revenge, you idiot! Get revenge on those accursed dogs! I don't even care if you skin them! I just want to see their pretty, little, fearfull faces as they realise that they are NOTHING compared to us humans! This will be the last time those fleabags made fun of me!" Cruella screams at the two. "And while you're at it, retrieve my Cuddles and that useless nephew of mine."
"Understood, boss! But... Where... uhm... are the dogs?" the two visitors ask. "101 Dalmatian Street. And don't you two forget it or fail! I swear, if you do I'll make sure you two will regret having ever been born!" A policeman approaches. "Time's up, De Vil. Back to your cell."

The two visitors drove to London. "So, the boss wants us to take revenge on... dogs? Does she want 'em dead, or...?" the burly one asks the lanky one. "Of course she does, Horace!" the lanky one says.
"And how are you so sure we can even find these dogs, Jasper? Maybe they left their home?" Horace asks. "Again with this apparent human knowledge? Once again, Horace. They. Are. Dogs! They aren't that smart!"

Back in the prison, Cruella is staring out of the barred window in her cell. "Soon I'll get my revenge... Soon! Those dalmatians will rue the day they thought they could cross Cruella De Vil! Ha Haha Hahahahaha!" Cruella laughs maniacally. She will get her revenge, by any. Means. Necessary. "Hey! De Vil! One more tone and you'll scrub the cafeteria tomorrow!" Cruella scowls and goes to bed.

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Dante woke up in what appeared to be the room Cruella kept the dalmatians in while on the ship. "What the...? Why am I...?" Dante looked around, his family nowhere to be seen. "W-where are they...? Mom? Dad? Dylan? Dolly?" Dante cries out. No answer, just a an echo of his voice. He calls out again. Just an echo. Then, footsteps. "I seriously missed one of these cleffing mutts?" the voice says. Dante recognizes it. It's her voice. That devilish woman's voice. "Oh. There it is. And it doesn't even have the right fur. Useless, absolutely useless." Dante skittishly walks backwards, stumbling against a wall. A very fleshy wall. Turning around, Dante can't even bare the sight. Exactly 100 furless corpses of dogs. "M-Mom? D-Dad?" Dante whimpered, stumbling away. Cruella laughed maniacally.

Dante turned to run, tears flowing in his eyes. He needs to get out of here. Behind him was a slow, methodical thunk. She is following him. He ran and ran. And. Ran! But every turn, every corner, every twisting hallway just seemed to lead him to the same path. Not to mention the voices that followed him. The voices of his family telling him how much he messed up, how this is all his fault! And all he could repeat was "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," over and over again. Then he reached a dead end. Nowhere to hide, nowhere to run. And she was coming closer.

"There you are,~" she says. "Don't you want to see your family?~" At this point Dante just accepts his fate. What else should he do after all? There was nowhere he can run, his family is dead, and honestly? He's tired of crying.
Cruella reaches out to grab him, but just before Dante gets grabbed...

"Argh...!" Dante wakes up in a cold sweat. Looking around, he found himself in the bedroom. He's home. He's safe. His family is alive. Right. They escaped Cruella... How could he forget?
Dante hears a groggy voice. "Dante Is that you?" It's Dylan. "Bad dream?" he asks Dante. Dante simply nods. "Sigh... I know you don't like it, but... do you want to sleep next to me?"
Dante nods hesitantly. This really isn't his thing. Yes, he does love all things spooky, but he's still just a pup. Nightmares and puppies aren't really a good combo. That much is something anyone can tell you.

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For once, it was a somewhat peacefull day in the Dalmatian household. No nightmares, no crying due to memories of the events a week ago, just somewhat normal life... if it weren't for Deepak and Da Vinci.
The two of them still aren't exactly... back to normal. While puppies like DJ or Dawkins have at least touched their usual things, Da Vinci and Deepak either just stared into nothingness, or locked themself into the paint storage room respectively. Easy to say, especially Dylan was worried. They are his siblings, but he just... doesn't recognize them... It was like looking through broken glass, the picture was there, it just didn't seem right.

Dylan went downstairs towards the living room, where most of the pups are. He was glad that most seemed to have calmed somewhat down, but couldn't stop worrying about Deepak and Da Vinci. Especially concerned was he about the latter. The only time anyone really saw Da Vinci anymore was during breakfast and dinner. Other than that, they just... locked themself into the room where all the paint and paper was stored. You can still enter, Da Vinci will just not react. Sometimes there will be new pictures, except that they just... aren't Da Vinci. They more so resembled nightmarish representations of things like her and the machines she wanted to use to fur the dalmatians.

"Has she come out yet?" Dolly asked Dylan. Dylan simply shook his head. "No! And I'm getting worried! Have you seen the state they're in? Da Vinci hasn't exited the room outside of lunch or dinner! She hasn't painted in any of her usual styles! I'm not even sure she's slept yet!" Dylan began pacing. Is Da Vinci alright? Has she slept yet? What if they aren't fine?! "Bro, you're doing the thing again," Dolly said with concern.
Dylan stopped. "What thing?" he asks Dolly. "The whole spiraling thing? I know you're worried... We all are... But spiraling until you're a whimpering mess won't help either," Dolly says. Dylan looks at the ground.
"I know..." he says. "It's just... I'm the oldest of us... It's my duty to protect you... If any of you get hurt, seriously hurt... What am I for a brother if I let that happen...?" Dolly sighs. "I can't believe I have to do this... Dylan. Nothing will happen. We will all make sure of it," she says. "Come here." Dolly pulls Dylan into a hug. Dylan sniffles slightly, a few tears exiting his eyes. "Let it out, bro. Let it out."

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DJ sat near the end of the backyard, staring at his keyboard. Why was this so hard? He never had much issue with music, it all came naturally to him. So why was he struggling?! "Dog damn it..." he mutters.
He was frustrated. The one thing he knows he's good at is music, and he just can't do it! Not to mention that he, for some reason, can't seem to focus. Not that he didn't usually have issues focussing, that's what his headphones are for. Yet those got damaged during... Oh, right. Her. That dog be damned Devil Woman... The whole family has problems because of her. Dylan is more worried about everyone than usual, Dolly thinks Mom and Dad don't trust her anymore, Dante is even more depressed than usual, Deepak is not even meditating, Mom and Dad are overworking, he can't focus on music, and... Da Vinci. The one dog anyone here could lean on, aside from Deepak, and now nobody even sees her most of the time. And then there's... whatever's going on with Triple D, the Dimitris and Dawkins. At least Dizzy and Deedee seem to be relatively normal, just less energetic.

Lost in thought, DJ feels someone bump into him. "Ah, uh... Sorry, DJ," the pup with a molecule collar says. "...I get the feeling that something is bothering you. From what I've learned, the best way to make something not bother you anymore, is to talk about it." DJ sighs. "Maybe you're right, Dawkins..." DJ shrugs. "It's just... I can't focus... I'm trying, it's just... I either think of something else, or get distracted by noise."
Dawkins thinks for a moment. "Hm... While I am unable to fix your thinking problem, I can fix your noise problem. You mentioned your headphones broke, right?" DJ gives a tired sigh. "Yes... Broke when... you-know-what happened..."
Dawkins turns to leave. "Wait here, please."

Roughly a minute later, Dawkins returns with a small box. "I originally planned to give you this present on your birthday, but... I think now is also a good time. Come on, open it," Dawkins nudges the box over to DJ.
DJ opened the box with unsure paws. Inside the box was a pair of headphones that clearly had some modifications made by Dawkins. "Headphones?" DJ asked. "Custom headphones. I noticed your old ones were already wearing off, so I decided to make you some new ones. They have a noise cancelling toggle, Bluetooth, a walkie-talkie function, and- Are you... alright?" There was a small tear on DJ's left eye. Not from sorrow, but because he was happy. "Thank you, Dawkins," DJ said, hugging his brother.

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The Badun brothers were scouring the alleyways of Camden Town. What were they looking for? A specific sphynx cat. Cruella's cat. The two didn't really understand why Cuddles was this important, but they still searched for him. He is Cruella's cat after all. "You sure he's here?" Horace asks Jasper. "We've been looking through these alleys for the past 5 hours." Jasper grumbles. "Ya think I don't know that? We still gotta find him."
Just then a meow can be heard from behind a trash can. "Hey, there's a cat, Jasper!" Horace calls over to his brother.  Looking behind the corner the meow came from, they find a hairless cat with a red collar that has a camera attached. "That must be him. Finally," Jasper says. The brothers approach the cat, which hisses in response. "Woah there, calm down. We're with Cruella!" Horace calms the cat. "You're Cuddles, right?" The cat meows in agreement.

Back in their apartment, the three of them sit together. "So, why's he so important?" Horace asks. Jasper shrugs. "For once, I don't have a clue." Cuddles meows in annoyance before pulling out an SD card that was stored in his collar. Jasper picks it up, only to then ask what they're supposed to do with this. Cuddles facepalms before snatching the card and putting it into the next-best computer. Starting the computer, some new programs, along with some folders are found on the card. Folders filled with videos, DNA scans, and, most importantly, everything the brothers would need to get revenge for Cruella. The only problem? The folder's locked. Measures made by Cruella to make sure Hunter doesn't follow the wrong path. Considering how the whole thing turned out, though... "Now what's the password...?" Jasper murmurs. "How about you try Scorch?" Horace suggests.
Tipping it in, it surprisingly works. "How did ya know that'd work?" Jasper asks Horace. Horace just shrugs. "I dunno. I just thought about what Cruella would name her pets, and that led to ferrets." Jasper sighs. "I don't even want to know how you got to that line of thought..."

Looking through the files, the three stumble upon a file titled "Emergency Plan in Case of Failure". In that file, there are multiple names listed, alongside which of the people listed are still alive. One name sticks out, "P.H. De Vil". Strangely, that is also the only name with a phone number attached. "I guess that's one of her relatives?" Jasper says. "Should I get a phone?" Horace asks Jasper. "No, Horace, make yourself a nice bowl of ice cream," Jasper answers sarcastically. "Of course ya should!" Horace hurriedly gets the phone. Dialing the number, a voice picks up. "For the last time, I won't accept any overpriced carpets!" the voice calls out.
"Actually, we're hear for something else. Can we speak to... P.H. De Vil?" Jasper asks. "...You have my attention." Jasper, Horace and Cuddles exchange a devilish look.

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Deepak sat in Constantin's meditation room. He wanted to rediscover his zen, except that that proved to be difficult. Every time he tried to calm, visions of her snuck into his mind. That dreadful woman... Deepak usually was pretty calm, maybe even the calmest among the dalmatians. He was the one everyone could talk to, aside from Da Vinci, and now he just... freezes up every time someone asks him for help with a more emotional problem.
Constantin opened the door to the room, snapping Deepak out of whatever he was thinking right now. "I brought some tea, in case you want some. Helps when your mind's foggy," he says. Constantin was... wary. Despite his usual calm, he wasn't exactly equipped to deal with a traumatized pup. Guru Miaow's teachings never mentioned anything about this, and Deepak also wasn't in his usual panic state whenever something bad happened.

Constantin thought about getting one of the dalmatians and ask them for any tips on what to do, but then he'd probably lose this rare moment of calm. He was in a difficult situation, on one paw he wanted to help his spotty protégé, but on the other paw he liked the quiet, calm moment he was having. He turneed back to Deepak. And then there it was, the usual panic he had when something vaguely bad happened. "Deepak," Constantin said. No reaction. "Deepak," he tried again. No reaction. He hates raising his voice, but he gets the feeling that he won't have another choice. Except maybe... Constantin walked over to the gong and rung it. Not the most elegant solution, he thought, but at least something. Deepak seemed to at least stop running around in wild panic.

"Sigh... Sorry, Constantin..." Deepak appologized. He's just... stressed. He neither wants to let his family down, nor does he want to lose what progress he previously made during his training under Constantin. Constantin looked at him, before sitting down next to him. "Let me tell you a story," he says. "Long ago, there was a kitten, roughly your age. He wasn't the nicest, nor was he easy to deal with. Of course that had a reason. You see, his mother died not long ago, causing him to act out in sorrow. His father, trying to make sure his son had a good life, and grieving himself, sent him to him to his uncle. There, his uncle told him about meditation. You see, the kitten's uncle was a follower of Guru Miaow, and followed his teachings. The uncle didn't want to convert the kitten, just to help him move on." Deepak looked at Constantin with a confused look. "Sigh... What I'm trying to say this, everyone has bad time. There's nothing to be ashamed of when you're unsure of what to do. Just take your time, maybe have a change of pace, and go on. You don't have to move on from what happened, just try to not let it affect your whole life, or things might get unpleasent for everyone, whether they're involved or not." Deepak thought for a moment. "I guess that makes sense..." He says. Deepak moved towards the door of the meditation chamber, turning back to Constantin. "Thanks for the story, Constantin," he says and leaves.

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Dolly was grumpy. She could barely get any sleep due to Clarissa hosting some party, and now her parents wanted to talk with her. In all honesty, she just wanted to get some rest. "Why do you want to talk?" Dolly asked in an annoyed tone. Delilah sighs. "We wanted to... apologize." Dolly looked at them. They wanted to... apologize? Now? "It's been a 'month'," she says with a small undertone of anger. "I... know," Delilah sighs. "Dolly, honey, I know we messed up..." Doug tries to apologize. Dolly huffs. "Messed up is an understatement. You knew that there's the possibility that a dangerous woman who absolutely despises our family is still out there, and never thought to ever mention it." Dolly takes a breath. "You two always go on and on about how you love us all, yet kept a secret that could have had disastrous consequences! Do you even realize how I feel? I try and try to be a good sibling, a good daughter, and you still don't trust me enough to keep a secret that is able to potentially keep us all safe if push came to shove?! I don't know whether I should be angry, disappointed, or sad."

Doug and Delilah looked at each other. Was Dolly really... feeling like this? Dolly was a lot, she was loud, reckless, a daredevil, but also a kindhearted, loving sister and daughter. One thing Dolly wasn't, is a liar when it comes to important stuff. For once, though, the two didn't know how to deal with this. Sure, a lot of their pups had things that are uncomfortable to think about, but Dolly always seemed so... put together, in her own way. She never really freaked out, she wasn't depressive, she always seemed so... happy. Like nothing in the universe could ruin her day. How long did she feel like this? Was it their fault? "Why did you never say anything?" Delilah asks.
"How would I? You two have work the whole week, me and Dylan take care of everyone while you're gone, and none of my friends have any siblings or know where their parents are. I basically never had anyone I could tell without them either probably not understanding, or me feeling like I'm burdening them..." Doly says shakily. This was it. There's no going back. It's out. Something inside Dolly didn't feel calm though. She was still upset at her parents.

"Dolly, we would have listened, we would have-" Delilah tries to say, but Dolly cuts her off. "Just... Just be quiet..." Dolly says in a tired voice. "I don't want to hear it..." Dolly turns around and leaves without another word.
Doug and Delilah stod in silence. "Sweety, I-" Doug started to say before noticing the look on his wife's face. She was... crying. Full on crying. Doug, of course, has seen Delilah cry before, but never like this. He wasn't prepared to deal with this! "Did I... go wrong somewhere?" Delilah asks Doug. He shakes his head. "I... don't know... I hope we haven't..."

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Hunter sat in the storage room he set up his bed in, thinking, reminiscing. Where did he go wrong? He never meant to harm those puppies, he just wanted to make his great-aunt proud. And now? Now he's alone. His great-aunt is in jail, he doesn't have friends, and as far as he's aware his other family members are all dead. He stood up and walked towards the room's door, stopping as he grabbed the doorknob. Where should he even go? Not like there was anything left for him. "God... This is so stupid! Why couldn't I just do what aunty wanted?!" he exclaimed with frustration. Despite being unsure of what to do, he opened the door. Maybe a walk can help. Hunter walked for hours. Where did he go? Nowhere specific, he just... walked.

After a while he arrived near a café. He knows that café. It's the one he first saw the dalmatians at. He remembered it quite well. Two of the younger ones-Dizzy and Deedee, if he remembers correctly-were asking that orange-haired adult to follow them. "Hehe," he chuckles slightly. Things sure were simpler back then... He stopped reminiscing and began walking again. Later he arrived at Camden Park. There were multiple things he remembered about that place. The first being during a weirdly foggy night. Cuddles was chased by Dylan, one of his brothers and a police horse, before jumping into the car Hunter was sitting in. That was his first step into... "Following aunty's plans..." he mumbled. The second thing he remembers was from after his great-aunt arrived in London. The dalmatians built an escape route, but he found it. God... He wishes how he just never found that hole...

Walking further, he unknowingly walked into Dalmatian Street. He only realised once he felt a weird sense of familiarity. He was conflicted. On one hand he just wants to leave, but... he could also apologize to the dalmatians. Would they even accept his apology? Would they forgive him? Was he worthy of being forgiven? For as long as he can remember, his worth was measured on how well he can do what his great-aunt tells him to do, but she... isn't here anymore. She can't tell him what to do anymore. Somehow, the thought was... relieving to Hunter. He was... free. His own person. Still, he feared of what might happen when he approaches the dalmatians. He almost killed them, after all...
Hunter decided it was best to leave, but before he can move another step, a door opens, and out of the door came two spotted adult dogs, one male and one female. "Hunter?" the female dalmatian asks.

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After what happened during the talk  with Dolly yesterday, Doug and Delilah decided to take a walk and process what happened. Opening the door, the two were about to start, except they noticed someone. They noticed a young teen, roughly 14 years old, with unkempt, blond hair and a dirty, red jacket. It was... "Hunter?" Delilah asked with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. The boy was snapped out of whatever daze he was in. Turning towards the two dalmatians, the boy had a look that was somewhere between hope and pure terror on his face. "I- I should go," he said, already turning to leave. However, Doug and Delilah had other thoughts at this point. For some reason, none of their pups had any nightmares about Hunter. Yes, they are aware how he had helped during their escape from that damned woman, but they still thought that at least some of their 99 puppies had nightmares, or at least bad things to say about the De Vil boy, but... no. Every nightmare was either about Cruella, or other terrible what-ifs. Not even Da Vinci's pictures were about him.

"Hunter, don't go. Please," Delilah says, trying to calm Hunter down. "I... don't want to bother you..." Hunter tries to deflect. "You won't bother us. We just want to ask you something," Doug reassures the disheveled teen. Realising that the two dalmatians won't let him leave that easily, Hunter gives up and sits down on the stairs leading up to the door of the home of the dalmatians. He sighs before asking what exactly they want to know. "What exactly happened while you were in that container?" Delilah asks him. Now, Hunter wasn't sure which time Delilah meant. Did she mean the one he spent half a year in, or the one during the events roughly a month ago? "Do you mean the first or second time?" he asks with a slightly shaky voice.

Delilah and Doug shared a concerned look. "What exactly do you mean first or second time?" Doug asks with concern. Hunter looked away from the two spotted dogs. "Well... After my first try in... uhm... dognapping you, I was locked in the container I was supposed to use to transport you all in..." Delilah and Doug grew even more concerned. "And exactly how long have you spent in there?" Delilah asks with obvious concern. Hunter struggled to get the words out. Why did she care? He almost got them killed, so why did she care? Hunter mumbled a response. "Six months..." Doug and Delilah could just barely understand what he said. "And nobody got you out? Not even Cru- Not even your great-aunt?" Hunter's silence was all they needed for confirmation. "That dog be damned-" Delilah began cursing before stopping herself.

Putting a paw on his shoulder, Doug tried to comfort Hunter. "That must have been a... horrible experience," he says. "And... right now? I mean, where exactly do you live?" After a moment of silence, Hunter answers. "The abandoned tower... In the basement..." The more answers the two got, the more worried they grew. Hunter, a literal teenager, has been going through all of this? "And you... don't have any other family?" Delilah asks with growing concern. Hunter let out an awkward chuckle. "Not as far as I'm aware... And even if... Aunty never told me about them..." This was... bad. The two dalmatians had a human kid in front of them who quite obviously needs help, yet they can't do much, not being humans themself. The two thought about what to do, but came up blank. "I... Uhm... Sorry, didn't mean to drag down the mood..." Hunter apologises quietly. Doug wanted to say something, before being cut off by his mate. "Don't apologise, dear. We all have some uncomfortable things we carry around," Delilah reassures Hunter. Hunter then stood up. "Yeah... We do... Uhm... I just wanted to... apologise. For... everything... I... I should... go now..." he says, already starting to walk away. Doug and Delilah watched as he left. "Family talk?" Doug asks. "Family talk," Delilah agrees.

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Most of the dalmatians were meeting in the living room, Delilah and Doug having called for a family talk. "92... 93... 84... 95..." Dylan counted before, once again, feeling a chomp on his tail. "Dorothy..." Dylan sighed with a note of fondness for his little sister. "I... guess Da Vinci won't join us..." he said, looking towards the stairs after putting Dorothy down. "How long is this gonna last...?" he wondered. "It's been over a month by now..." Turning back towards the group, he sat down next to Dolly. "So... You may be wondering why we called you all..." Delilah began. "Yeah, you only call for this when something important has happened," Dylan says. "I concur. By my calculations, we don't have much to worry about right now," Dawkins, ever the analytic pup, agrees. "Well... We met Hunter some minutes ago," Doug explains. "He came here to... apologise." A choir of murmurs erupts. Hunter came to... apologise? That's... unexpected.

A soft gasp can be heard from behind the wall that separates the living room and the entrance hallway. Considering everyone else was accounted for, that gasp could only come from... "Da Vinci?" Dolly whispered more to herself than anyone, really. Before anyone could check, the sound of pawsteps could be heard going up the stairs. Without saying a word, both Dylan and Dolly ran after them. Arriving at the storage room Da Vinci kept in the last month, they exchanged a glance that was somewhere between fear and hope. Was that really... her? Standing before the door, Dylan knocked. "Da Vinci? Are you in there? We just want to talk." No answer. The two exchanged a worried look.

Inside the room, a dalmatian wearing a bandana was staring at a picture. The picture depicted a terrifying... woman? Monster? It wasn't quite clear what it was, just that it looked like something you would see in nightmares and repressed memories. Next to the woman, however, was a smaller drawing, one of a boy. The boy stood in stark contrast to the woman. Whereas the woman was terrifying, the boy was... almost pleasant. The woman was large, the boy small. The woman was mainly painted with black, the boy with white. "He really... apologized..." Da Vinci mumbled. "...I need to thank him..." Saying that surprised Da Vinci a bit. Hunter still tried to fur them, so why were they.... thinking about thanking him? Da Vinci thought a bit more. Did she ever think Hunter a bad guy? At the beginning, sure. But after the container? Another knock snapped Da Vinci out of their head. Should she... answer? Probably.

"...Come in..." Dylan and Dolly heard. Opening the door, they saw Da Vinci. She was... looking better. Not by much, but still. The look in her eyes was less... cloudy. Less absent. "Da Vinci? Are you.... OK?" Dolly asked. "We heard your gasp downstairs... I... Listen, if Hunter still scares you, then you can tell us. We just want to make sure everyone feels safe," Dolly says. Dolly's words were truthful. Yes, she has a bad relationship with her parents right now, but still. This is her family. And nobody harms her family. Da Vinci looked down before answering. "He... doesn't. Less than-" Da Vinci pointed towards a drawing that more clearly depicted that wretched woman, "-at least..." They took a breath. Looking up, Da Vinci saw small tears on Dolly's eyes, and larger tears on Dylan's. Before she could process what she saw, Dylan and Dolly pulled them into a hug. "Don't ever scare us like that again!" Dylan said through tears. Da Vinci took a moment to process. How long were they in this room to make her oldest two siblings have such a response? "...How long... was I in here...?" Da Vinci asked the two. Dylan thought for a moment. "Roughly one-and-a-half months? I think?" Dylan said, still sobbing slightly. Da Vinci was... many things. Shocked, distraught, and, most importantly, angry at herself. "I... Sorry..." was all they could say. "Don't apologise, you fluffy dingus! You weren't in the right head space to think clearly! This wasn't your fault!" Dolly reprimanded her younger sibling, though there was no anger behind it.

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P.H. was getting frustrated. His cousin, once again, went after those dalmatians? He loves her, he really does, but even he has to agree that this has become an obsession. At least getting the farm of the Dearly's was an entertainable goal, if a bit manic. But going after the dalmatians again? "One of the definitions of insanity... Doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different outcome..." P.H. mutters. It wasn't all that long ago that he got the call from those two men. At first he wanted to ignore them, just wanting to live the rest of his life in peace, then he heard about Cruella. He owed her something from years ago, and at least now he can get rid of that favour.

Pulling on his coat, and picking up his old phone, he dialed his most trusted partner. "Susan, I need you to take over the company for a bit. Something has come up, and I don't know when I'll be back. Don't do anything reckless." The woman on the other side, Susan, wished him a good day and assured him that everything will be fine. "And Project I.C.E.?" She asked. Right, P.H. didn't think of that. "Just try to keep it up and running. We need that thing for the success of the company." Hanging up, he went out and into his car. "Let's just get this over with."

In their apartment, Horace, Jasper and Cuddles looked through the files on the SD card, especially the programs. There were files for prototypes of some dog catching video game, for some reason, files for wireless camera connections, probably for Cuddles' camera collar, and a tracking program. What did the program track? Two things, Cuddles' collar and... a smartphone? The smartphone tracker pointed towards a tower near the outskirts of Camden. "Bingo," Jasper says, already having figured out that Cruella's nephew was probably there. "We found the boy." Horace, however, wasn't quite sure about something. "Shouldn't we wait for this P.H. guy? I mean, Cruella seems to trust him a lot." Jasper scowls. For once, Horace had a point. Cruella seems to trust P.H. and they'd have a better chance of getting her great-nephew if he doesn't come willingly. "I hate to say it, but... you have a point."

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The dalmatian household was finally back to a relative sense of normalcy. Everybody could sleep without nightmares for the most part, most of the pups went back to their usual hobbies, and they often had feuds with their feline and corgi neighbors. As mentioned, a relative sense of normalcy. Naturally, things were still not like they were before the De Vil thing. Dawkins, for example, still had trouble sleeping due to his destroyed beloved Princess Positron. One thing that was weird, however, is that Clarissa of all people tried to not engage in as many feuds, which didn't quite work, but it's the thought that counts. Still, the thought didn't leave Dante's mind, so he decided to figure out what exactly is going on with their neighbor, and maybe also vent his feelings.

Hugo left the house and Clarissa to their own devices. Clarissa didn't have much planned for today, so she planned to just relax in her backyard, which wasn't really easy considering who her neighbors were. And then there was whoever was ringing the doorbell. "You can't even relax in this neighborhood. I swear, if this house wasn't this good I'd need to get Hugo to move somewhere calmer," she muttered under her breath. Reaching the door, she checked to see who it was. She expected anyone, from Prunella, all the way to Officer Pearl, but not once did she expect to see who was standing in front of the door, especially not after what happened over a month ago. She wasn't sure if the dalmatians were thankful, even though she helped them. Opening the door, she awkwardly greeted the inverted dalmatian. "So... Uhm, hello... Uhm... What was your name...? Dolph?" Clarissa never really learned all the dalmatians names, she never had a reason to. She didn't want anything to do with them, and they didn't want anything to do with her, and that was fine by her. The inverted dalmatian stared for a second before answering. "It's Dante."

Clarissa looked at him. "Dante, right. ...And what brings you to my humble abode? I don't normally have you..." She wanted to say "ruff-raffs", but... couldn't. She never had issues with calling them that, so why now? "I don't normally have your family as visitors, not without good reason, at least." Clarissa awaited a response like "I just wanted to thank you.", or for... what was his name again? For the dalmatian to just leave, but what answer she did get wasn't on her list of expected things. "I wanted to ask something," Dante said. "You wanted to... ask something?" Clarissa said in a tone that didn't quite match her usual one. She was confused, what would he want to ask her? Why would he want to ask her something? "Yes, I do. ...Why exactly do you try to avoid conflict with us?" Now that really wasn't a question Clarissa expected or was prepared for.

"...I... think we should continue this inside," the corgi said. Dante followed Clarissa into her home and the into the living room. "So... Uhm... Derek, was it?" Clarissa began, before getting corrected by Dante. "Dante." Clarissa coughed. "Dante, right. So... What exactly did you want to know again?" Dante sighed. "Why are you trying to avoid fights with us?" Clarissa thought. Why did she try that? She wasn't quite sure herself. Something just... changed since that fateful day. "I... don't know... I honestly don't know." Her answer surprised herself. Since when was she so honest with the dalmatians? Her whole relationship with them was built on a rocky, yet stable foundation, wasn't it? They fought with her, she fought with them, that's how it always was. So what changed? "...Sounds like guilt to me," Dante said. He was quick to pick up on things, even emotions. Not as good as Deepak in that regard, but still. Clarissa choked on air. Guilt? Was she feeling... guilty? For what? "Guilt? For what should I... feel guilty?" she asked, not realising she said it out loud. "I don't know, I'm just guessing myself," Dante answered. "You probably need to figure that out yourself." Great. Another question she doesn't have answers for. She just wanted to know why she was feeling this way. "...Is there... anything else you need?" she asked the inverted dalmatian. Dante was ready to leave before a thought struck him again. He could... tell her. Tell her about his nightmares, his feelings, his... everything. "Could you... just listen for a bit?"

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Dylan is... fine. At least that's what he wants his family to think. In reality he couldn't help but worry, worry about his parents, worry about his siblings, and worry about things repeating. And all that worrying obviously causes stress. Now, Dylan wasn't one to actually get stressed. He gets anxious, not stressed. Still, all of the current situation actually made him stressed. The first one to notice was Deepak, of course he was. That puppy always had a knack for noticing someones emotional distress. Then was Dante. While less so than Deepak, Dante also noticed when something was off, which often ended in his prophecies about the end of the world. The third was Da Vinci. Then DJ, after him Dolly, Triple D, Dawkins, Delgado, the Dimitrio, Dizzy and Dee Dee, and last but not least Diesel. And they were worried. They had seen Dylan in a lot of states, anxious, concerned, fearful, angry, depressed, gothic, and more, but never stressed.

Asking Dylan if everything's alright didn't work, so they need a new strategy. Dolly, Dawkins and Dante brought everyone together. "Alright, listen, everyone. We need to figure out why Dylan's stressed," Dolly begins. "So far we've gathered this. Dawkins pulls up a whiteboard filled with possible things that might cause Dylan's stress. "Option one: Portia. Not really likely, since we all know how that whole "Danny" thing went," Dawkins begins. "Option two: He ordered something and it hasn't arrived yet. Less likely, since he seems to be focused on making us happy right now, which brings me to the third option. Option three: He is still worrying about us all. The most likely option. We all know how Dylan gets when one of us is hurt." There was a ripple of agreement among the dalmatians. "Yeah..." Destiny began. "...but, like, normally he..." Dallas continues. "...just gets anxious," Deja Vu concludes. "And that's where she comes in," Dante says, hesitatingly pulling of a sticky note that was put over a crude drawing of the Devil Woman. It wasn't all that accurate, but still good enough. "Ooph..." Dimitri 1 said. "Of course it's that hag's fault..." Dimitri 2 goes on. "When wasn't she at fault since that day?" Dimitri 3 adds too.

"So what's the plan? Do we just... spy on him?" Delgado asks. "Not that I'd be against that, it just... doesn't seem like we should?" The pups exchanged a look. Delgado was right, it doesn't. "...We could... try to do something for him?" Diesel says. "And what would we do?" Deepak asks. "Urgh... I hate saying this, but maybe we could do something Poodlewolf related?" Dolly says. Everyone stared at her. "Are you serious?" Triple D says in unison. "I know. I can't believe it myself," Dolly says in a tone that's both joking and serious. "Well, now onto figuring out what exactly we should do. Dawkins, you know the most about Poodlewolf, is there anything that could help us?" Dawkins thinks for a moment. "...Not that I can think of. Though... The last time Dylan and I played with Hansel, Hansel mentioned he had gotten some new thing for the game." Dolly pushed down her feelings about talking to Hansel. "Alright. Let's go ask him." And thus, Mission 'Cheer up Dylan' began.

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The dalmatian crew of Dolly and siblings managed to make a meeting with Hansel, which they were now attending. "So, if I understand correctly, you need my help to cheer Dylan up because he's... stressed?" Hansel asks in a disbelieving tone. "It is not that I don't believe you, just... Dylan? Stressing out over something? Are you serious?" Dawkins spoke up. "As unlikely as it sounds, yes. Statistically, Dylan hasn't been this stressed since just before Mom and Doug met. It was... an interesting time, to say the least." That surprised Hansel. "Oh, do tell. I want to  know what we're working with."

Dawkins took a deep breath. "Alright. Dylan was the one with the best relationship to Dad, not counting mom. They were... basically inseperable. Dad is also the reason Dylan and I are this interested in scientific topics. He was... a great father. Then tragedy struck. I don't remember the exact details, just that Dylan was crying a lot, Mom was comforting him, and Da Vinci was... I think they were too young to actually notice much... Dylan seemed to be... fine, maybe a bit more anxious and his OCD having worsened, but not much more. Then his nightmares started. He never exactly talked about them, but they seemed severe. Maybe as severe as Dante's... He was not really getting much sleep, if any... At first all three of us thought that maybe Dylan just had a bit more anxiety because of someone he met, but... That wasn't it. The day Da Vinci called Mom and me because she noticed how Dylan was staring at a picture of Dad, we... kind of started to realise why Dylan was... off. He repressed all the trauma and anxiety over Dad's death in what I can only guess was an attempt to make us happy. Things... calmed after Doug and his part of the family came into our lives, but... Dylan still flinches at any mention of Dad."

Hansel stood there for a long moment. Dylan was really off the deep end. "I don't think I can help. I don't know if it helps, but... I can recommend a therapist. I kind of figured I should get one myself, considering most male dogs in my family are more so in that macho mindset, and, well, I am not. Here, let me write it down." Hansel grabs a piece of paper and writes it down. It may look messy, but still far better than most dogs. "Come back if you need anything else, and good luck."

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Da Vinci was all about colors and painting, especially expressing yourself through them. They used to draw alongside their siblings before, partially because it was fun, and another part as a form of therapy. Things in a household of 101 were bound to go wrong almost daily, and that was a good way to calm down, think and maybe express your feelings in ways you usually can't. Almost everyone joined in at times, even Dante and the Dimitrio, though the former was hard to motivate on good, and almost impossible to motivate on bad days. Dolly and Delilah on the other paw? They were always happy to join in. They would even do this nowadays, especially since here still were... concerns about Da Vinci's mental state slipping back into that deafening indifference. Except that there's one teeny tiny issue. Dolly doesn't currently have the best relationship with her parents.Yes, Da Vinci knows about the therapist, after all she was there when they talked to Hansel, but still, she wanted to help too, so she organized an impromptu art therapy session for them, with a bit of help from Deepak, DJ and Dawkins.

Dolly entered the now cleaned storage room, which is basically just the art room now. She knew that Da Vinci wanted to meet her, but not why. Opening the door, her face turned into an immediate scowl. "Why are they here?" she asked into the room. This drew the attention of the other three dalmatians in the room. "Dolly? Why are you here?" Delilah asks. "Better question, why are you here?" Dolly countered. Dolly, Doug and Delilah went silent, then turned their heads towards the bandana wearing pup that was with them. "Care to explain?" Dolly asked. "Well... I wanted to get you three to talk. I know it isn't my place to pry, but... Sigh... I..." Da Vinci fidgeted with their bandana, pulling it up a bit, speaking again, you could only hear some mumbling. "What is it, honey?" Doug asked the obviously uncomfortable pup. "I just... We... I- Sigh... I just want you three to get along again... I- Urgh..." Da Vinci mutters, taking a deep breath. "I hate how you're always avoiding each other since we escaped that woman!" she says, immediately apologizing upon noticing she's gotten louder then usual. This stunned the older dalmatians. Da Vinci was... raising their voice? The shy pup who'd go into what's best described as a mental shutdown if things got too uncomfortable? That Da Vinci was... raising their voice?

"Are you... alright, honey?" Doug asks, cautiously approaching the puppy. "...No, I'm not. None of us are... But that isn't what I called you all here... I just... I just want you to get along again..." A small tear trickled down Da Vinci's cheek, concerning the other three. How long... had they been fighting? Recounting, they got at roughly two months. 61 days...  "We... Oh dog... This...." Delilah stutters. "I've been a terrible mother..." Doug places a paw on her shoulder. "Delilah, no. This isn't your fault. Not fully at least..." Delilah shook her head. "No, this is entirely my fault... I knew about her. It is my family that woman hates. I should have told the two earlier!" Doug sighs, looking at Delilah in a way he hasn't in years. A look that was saying something like "For once in your dog be damned life, stop blaming yourself for everything. You are a great mother. A great wife. If you do something wrong, then we can fix it. I will not let you go down the same path my old mate has. If you need help, I'll be there for you, just don't push all the blame on yourself." Doug lets out a deep breath. "Delilah, we knew about that woman. It is our family that woman hates. We should have told them... Yet we didn't, because we thought it's what's best for them. All of them. If anyone is to blame, then it's both of us." The two turned towards Dolly, who still looked like she wanted to be anywhere but here, probably thinking how even Dante's depressive mood was better than this. "Dolly, I- No, we need to apologise. For everything. It was never our intention to make it look like we don't trust you. All we wanted to keep that history dead and buried somewhere it can't hurt anyone ever again... We... obviously failed that... I... I fully understand if you don't forgive me- us. If you don't forgive us... I just... We want you to know we're so incredibly sorry..." Dolly looks at her parents. "...I... need time to trust you two again... Just... Maybe we can try to go back to our old relationships again? Even if it may be a bit bumpy..." Doug and Delilah nodded. "Yeah. Of course. Take all the time you need. We won't pressure you." This... wasn't exactly what Da Vinci planned, but it was still a good step forward.

Chapter Text

Today was the day. The dalmatians were going to visit Hunter. It was easy to say that everyone was still on edge, even after two months had passed without any large issue. There was still the possibility that 'she' was out there, or that she had any people that did her dirty work. "94... 95... 96... Huh? Where's-" Dylan began wondering, before, once again, feeling someone bite his tail. "There you are. You ready, Dorothy?" Dorothy lets out an excited yip. She's been getting better at saying stuff, but still has a long way to go. "Alright... Anyone objecting to this idea?" Dolly asks into the crowd. A chorus of excited yips, yesses and yeps can be heard. "Well, let's go then. Off to... that tower... Dylan, do you remember the way?" Dylan thinks for a second. "I... think so. We did drive there last time..." Dolly nods. "Well, let's hope you remember it well enough."

It was a long, long walk, mixed with a few bus drives, but they eventually arrived. "Wow... This place looks... so run down," Dolly says, looking up the once pristine De Vil Tower. It was broken down, windows were smashed, some plants grew on its lowest levels, and all around looked terrible. "This place is..." Dallas starts. "...so not..." Destiny continues. "...our style," Deja Vu finishes. "Yeah... Not our style either," Dimitri 1 says. "This is far too run down to make any fun..." Dimitri 2 mutters. "Let's go, kids. We still need to actually 'find' Hunter," Delilah chuckles. "He said he lives in the basement..."

Down in the basement, in an unassuming storage room, Hunter is staring at the roof. Something about today just feels... off. Not bad off, but rather... good? He can't quite put his finger on it, but this whole day hasn't brought him anything even remotely negative so far. Getting up and taking his phone, the teen exits the room and decides to just wander a bit. Walking for a while, he eventually bumped into something, or rather someone. "Ouch! Watch where you're- you're... Everyone! Over here!" the dalmatian Hunter bumped into called out. Sure enough, roughly 100 more dalmatian dogs appeared. "Thank dog you found him, Diesel. ...I'm honestly surprised you didn't get distracted..." Dolly says, mumbling the last part a bit. Hunter was just... staring. Why were they here? Why today? Why him? They should all hate him! He tried to, if accidentally, fur them! He wanted to run, he so desperately wanted to, yet couldn't. His legs weren't moving. Why weren't his legs moving?!

"Are you... alright, dear?" Delilah asks, cautiously approaching. Hunter didn't respond, didn't need to respond. Delilah is a mother of 99, if something's wrong, she knows, mots of the time anyway. "...You don't have to tell me, I won't pressure you." Delilah took a deep breath. "You're... probably wondering why we're here, aren't you? Well... We wanted to thank you. ...I... don't think this is the right place for that though. Do you have anywhere we can all sit down together?" Hunter still didn't answer. He didn't even process the words. He was... not really there. That was, until Dorothy approached. "H-Hunt- Hunter... friend..." she babbled, trying to construct a sentence. This caused Hunter to slightly snap out of his paralysis. "I... Uhm... Y-yeah... S-sorry... There's... There's a larger parking lot back there. ...Mind if I lead?" he asks, still not sure if the family of 101 is honest. "Go ahead."

Arriving at the garage, they all sit down. "...I... You're... honest about thanking me, huh...?" the teen asks. It wasn't that he found the idea impossible, just... His whole life he had one goal, make his aunt proud. That goal led to an honestly terrible life full of pain, misery and self-hatred. Hunter wasn't a bad child, maybe a bit too eager at times, but still not bad. He was just... unfortunate. "You... don't believe us?" asked Dylan. Hunter shook his head. "No no! That isn't it. I just... find it highly unlikely, given what happened. In all honesty, I'm more surprised than anything. I'd have figured you hated me, or at least distrust me a lot. I'm not exactly the most... honest person anyway... I... I honestly keep a lot of secrets... I don't even-" Hunter tries to say, but a rumbling belly cuts the blond-haired teen off.

"...Hunter, on what have you been surviving?" Delilah asks in a motherly tone. Hunter didn't speak at first. "...Scraps..." he says silently. "You aren't saying you've... Hunter, this won't do. The garbage is one of the places where you can get salmonella, or worse things. You will come home with us, no buts." Hunter was stunned. He at first thought that he should fear Delilah, at least that's always how he felt when Cruella spoke to him like this, but... Delilah didn't make him feel weak, scared, or... anything bad, really. She made him feel... welcome. At home. Like... a child with actually decent parents. Not that he could put that into words, so he just silently nodded.

Arriving back at 101 Dalmatian Street, Hunter was hesitant to enter. He is a welcomed guest... Right? "...What's the holdup?" Dolly asks. She may not fully understand how humans tick, but she can see when someone is shaking like a leaf. "I... Are you sure I'm welcome? I did try to-" the blond says, but gets cut off. "Dude, Mom invited you in. She even used her "mom voice" on you. If anything, she'd be mad if you stayed outside." This made a small smile tug on Hunters cheeks. He was... fine with this, all of this. He didn't feel like he needed to prove himself, or unwanted... Now if it weren't for the fact that this family is entirely made out of dogs... He finally has a family he feels safe around, yet can't exactly stay with them... The thought immediately brought his mood down again, but he pushed through.

Inside, things were... weirdly normal. Not normal by the standards of this family, but rather the kind of normal you'd expect from far, far smaller families. Entering the kitchen, Hunter could already see the mountain of dirty dog bowls. "Not... unusual", he thought. Looking around a bit more, he found Dylan, Dawkins and Dante try to figure out how to cook some pasta. "...Has anyone of us even heard of pasta before?" Dylan asks, getting a "no" from both of his helpers. "Not that I think so. I could barely find a cookbook in this house anyway. I'm... honestly surprised we do only have this one," Dawkins shrugs. "...Says here to boil at... 200 degrees?! That... is a spelling error, right?" the inverted dalmatian exclaimed. Hunter let out a chuckle. "No, it isn't. Do you... need help?" he asked. "...That'd... actually be pretty nice," Dylan says. "I concur," Dawkins agrees, meanwhile Dante just nods.

The cooking went about as well as one might expect. Dylan tried to keep his calm about the now once again ruined kitchen, while Dawkins and Dante tried to follow Hunter's explanations. The result was... edible, sure, but not really close to the picture in the book. "At least it tasted good..." Hunter says. "It... did? I honestly can't imagine that... At least we got something done..." Dante shrugs. "...By the way, where exactly are Mom and Dad?" Dawkins and Dylan both shrug. "I think they went upstairs? I'm... not really sure," Hunter answers.

Upstairs, a duo of dalmatians is trying to clean up a room. "No... That could... Or maybe... No... Sigh... How do humans usually design their rooms?" Doug asks Delilah, who has as little of an idea as Doug. "I don't know. I've never been at a human's house before. Well, not counting her..." The last part was tinged with a bit of sadness. "I... know I don't remember her much, but... Mom and Dad said Dodie was a good person... And, from what I do remember, that's true."

DJ and Da Vinci meanwhile tried to create a welcoming gift, just in case Hunter accepts their offer. "I dunno... A bit too... melancholic?" Da Vinci shrugged. "...Yeah... Nothing against your drawings either, we all love them, but... I don't think that one fits? Urgh... Why is this so complicated...?" DJ sighs in frustration. "Well... We don't really know Hunter, so that's probably why. ...Do we even know what his hobbies are?" Da Vinci pondered. "I think I've seen him take pictures before? Can't quite remember." The two continued to try and create a welcoming gift, finally finishing one. "I... think this is it? At least I hope so..." Da Vinci sighs. "Come on, Vinci. This is the best we've done in months! Now to hope Hunter actually agrees..."

Back in the living room, Hunter is playing with the twins and Dorothy. "Hehe, you're actually quite endearing," Hunter chuckled. "And you're funny, Mr Funnyface!" Dizzy laughs. "Still gonna call me that?" The twins chuckled in unison. "Of course! It fits you!" Deedee laughs. Dorothy is trying to climb up onto Hunter. "Here, let me help," he says, pulling up Dorothy. "...Yep, still the cutest among you all." Continuing to play with the three, the door towards the living room opened. "Hunter, dear. We have a question for you," Delilah said, uncertainty in her tone. "...Sure. What do you need?" the blond teen asked, putting Dorothy down. "Honeys, could you leave us alone for a bit?" Doug asks the three younger dalmatians. Dizzy and Deedee were disappointed, but left, Dorothy waddling off towards the backyard. "...So... What is it?" Hunter asked. "Hunter, we know you don't have it easy with the whole trust thing, and that you don't have the best experience with family, but... would you like to stay with us?"

"You... what? You want me to... stay?" Hunter asked, confused. He still didn't understand why they were being nice to him, him of all people. "I... I don't- Why- Why are you so... so nice to me? I've done nothing that'd make me worthy of your forgiveness or kindness... I even helped aunty in- in- I don't-" the teen stammers through tears. "...What gives you the idea you'd need to prove yourself to deserve being treated with decency?" Doug asks. "A-aunty never- She- I-" Hunter tries to say, but can't. "That bloody dog be damned woman. I swear on my mother's tea cups, if I get my paws on- ...No... Now's not the time... Phew... ...Hunter. I want you to know, that, no matter what happens, we will never treat you as anything less than a person. You can screw up as many times as possible, but we won't hate you. You aren't her. She isn't here anymore. You're free." Hunter was still crying, though it lessened just the tiniest bit. "I- Thank you... ...I'll... I'll stay, I think... Anywhere's better than back there..."

Chapter Text

P.H. finally arrived in Camden, multiple weeks after getting the call from Horace and Jasper. "I just need to get rid of this favour... Then I can finally be left alone..." he muttered, approaching an old, decrepit mansion on a hill. Behind him, a long road and a sign reading "Hell Hall". A fitting name, considering which family it belongs, or rather belonged, to. "...This place is even more decrepit than some years ago... Who would ever want to live here?" he asked himself, not really expecting an answer. Pushing open the doors to the mansion, he was greeted with a sorry sight. Broken shelves, a chandelier that seemed like it would crash down after the smallest noise, a leaking roof, and even worse things. "...I need to get this place restored before I do anything with those dimwits..."

Looking around, P.H. eventually did find the Badun brothers and Cuddles. "...She still keeps you two around?" he asked, confused. "Hey! We're Cruella's best men! ...Also, who the hell are you?" Jasper asks. "P.H. De Vil, your new boss for the time being. First order of business... Clean this place." Horace and Jasper at first laughed at the declaration, but then realised P.H. was dead serious. Immediately, they rushed towards the old, mostly intact brooms, buckets, and whatever else they can find that could even remotely be called cleaning supplies.  Several hours later, the room was at least presentable. "Good, at least now I can somewhat start working... Is what I would say if this place had any decent electricity. How did you even manage to survive in here? I swear to God... Do you at least have a back-up generator?" Horace shakes his head. "Ah great... At least I figured I should bring my own... Get it from my car, I'll make sure it works afterwards."

As luck may be, it does work, giving P.H. some relieve. "Good. Now I can- ...Is this your cat?" he asks, staring at the sphynx cat on the table. "Nah, I think it's Cruella's? Not too sure though. Cruella just said we are supposed to find him." P.H. groans. "Of course she did... Why easy when you can make it complicated...?"  Next to Cuddles still lied the laptop with the USB drive. Starting it up, P.H. looked through the contents of said stick. "...I'm honestly surprised Cruella managed to create some of these. Working terribly, but still working... ...Eh? What's this? Tracking someone? ...Hm? Only one of two signals available? ...How interesting..." he mumbled, trying to figure out how exactly the tracking program worked. "Definitely uses black market tech... If I'm not mistaken... ...Data logs, good... ...Urgh... Useless."

Spending hours looking through the USB stick, P.H. came to one conclusion. "Useless. Completely and utterly useless! How in the name of god did that woman use any of this to track those dogs?! I swear to god, if I didn't owe that damned favour, I'd- No, no.... Calm yourself... You're not made for getting angry... Phew... Just redo these programs and track the signal of whatever that second thing was supposed to be..." he mutters, Horace and Jasper doing odd jobs around Hell Hall to repair it up to P.H.'s standards.

And so P.H. did. A day passed as he was getting done, finally receiving the signal he was looking for. "Perfect... Now the game can begin... Where is the signal at...? Huh... Somehow,  I think I know that place... Isn't that the old home of Roger and Anita...?"

Chapter Text

Dante was feeling down, worse than usual. His nightmares returned, and somehow they're worse. Dante was already in a bad mood due to some mishaps yesterday, so this didn't help much either.

Dolly observed the inverted dalmatian. "...Is it just me, or is Dante more... Dante than usual?" she asked Dylan, who was currently discussing something with Dawkins. "Huh? Oh, sorry. ...Kind of? I mean, he's been more depressed than usual, though... I think his nightmares died down?" Dylan shrugged. "Still... We don't exactly know how the whole... you-know-what affected him... Da Vinci was... Yeah... DJ... is getting back into his whole music thing. Deepak has been hanging around Constantine more, probably some kinda therapeutic Guru Miaow thing? And Mom and Dad... ...Anyways, maybe we should keep an eye on him?" Dolly suggested. "Yeah... Maybe... ...Oh yeah! Any idea where Hunter is? We need to discuss some things with him." Dolly shook her head. "Nah, though if I had to guess... Either with the twins, Dorothy, or Vinci. Those four do seem to get along the best with him..." Dylan gave a thankful nod and left with Dawkins.

Dante, in all honesty, just wanted to wallow in misery today, more so than usual. And that's where the problem lied... Hunter. Dante likes Hunter, not that he'd ever admit it, but still. Hunter was one of the few nice humans he actually had some larger things to do with. Yet, something about being close to the teen still made him uncomfortable.

Right now, Dante was just hiding in some dark corner of the house, not wanting to deal with Hunter, which was easier said than done, as he was given a guided tour by Dylan and Dawkins. As the three passed him, he just felt... something. "Urgh... You just had to mess everything up back then!" he internally reprimanded himself. "You're a dog be damned failure! Why don't you just-" Dante shook his head to clear his thoughts. "Not right now..." he sighed. "You don't need these thoughts... Just pretend like everything's fine... ...Pretend... Urgh..."

Truth is, Dante wasn't happy. You might say "obviously", but that depression was from "better" things, whatever that means if it makes you depressed. Right now? Right now, Dante wasn't happy because he blames himself for... well, everything. "If I had just gotten better predictions..." "If I wasn't this damn down all the time..." "If i just-" he tried to scratch out that last thought. The least he wanted or needed was another attempt to "disappear permanently", to put it simple.

Dolly occasionally glanced at him while talking with Da Vinci. "Is... everything alright? You seem distracted," Da Vinci observes. "...Yeah. Just... worried. The last time I've seen Dante like that, he... really wasn't in a good place. Mom just died... Dad struggled with work... And truth be told, I wasn't the best sister..." Dolly sighs. Da Vinci gave a confused look. "What exactly happened?" they ask. Dolly looks at Dante with a somber expression. "...It's... nothing important." Da Vinci didn't press the issue further.

Chapter Text

Hunter found himself in his old home, back with Cruella. "Wasn't I just...?" he wondered aloud. "Hunter~," a voice called out. Hunter recognised the voice. "A-Aunty?" he asks. "Come here, child~," the voice beckons. Hunter unknowingly took a step forward. He was standing in a living room, only lit by the fireplace. Despite the light, it didn't feel like home at all. In front of the fireplace sat a woman who seemed familiar. The face of the person was obscured, though Hunter could still easily tell who it was.

"Oh, I've missed you, dear~," the woman says. "I've missed you so much... I can't even remember when the last time I saw you was... Come on, I've prepared something for you." The woman and Hunter's surroundings vanished. Shortly after, Hunter found himself in front of two graves.

Hunter tries to make out the inscriptions of the tombstones, only making out the first letter of the first names, and the full surname. "A. De Vil, and... L. De Vil... Huh...? I... Are those...?" he wonders. "You're the reason they're dead, Hunter, but I don't blame you..." the voice says. "I can give you a new stat, a new home. All I ask is that you help me with some dogs... You see, I have lost some very special dalmatians some years ago, back in Camden. I want you to see if their descendants are still living there, and maybe even help me return them to their rightful owner." Hunter knows that is a lie, but... His aunty isn't a liar, right?

The surroundings shift again. This time he's in front of 101 Dalmatian Street. He's carrying what seems to be a vacuum. He tries to throw it away, but something, or rather someone is preventing him. "Come on, we're so close... Do you really want to disappoint your aunty so close to the finish line?" the voice asks. Hunter wanted to say no, he desperately wanted to defy, but... couldn't.

Once again, his surroundings shift, this time placing him on a boat. "You rotten disappointment! You would rather help those accursed fleabags than me, your great-aunt?! You're just some worthless mutt, alongside all those other mutts! ...No, worse. At least I can make them into something useful. You, on the other hand? You won't EVER be of any use!" the voice screamed. Hunter wanted to scream. So desperately just wanted to scream. Then, suddenly...

"-ter? Hunter? Hunter!" a female voice called out. Hunter woke up with a jolt, slightly fearful, and slightly disoriented. "I'm awake! I'm awake!" he says, though not exactly without fear. "Woah there, Hunter. Calm down. We're not gonna hurt you," Dolly says. "Yeah. ...You seem... scared. Nightmares?" Dylan asks. Hunter simply nodded. "Here we go again..." Dylan sighed. "Wanna talk about them? You were... kind of thrashing pretty violently. Probably worse than some of the pups," he noted. Hunter simply stared. He wasn't quite sure how to answer.

"Talk about them...?" he said, confused. "Or draw them. Music works too. Just... to find a way to at least calm from them. Not saying it's a permanent solution, but... at least it's something," Dolly shrugs. "You two seem... experienced," Hunter remarks. The two dalmatians looked at each other. "Oh, you have no idea..." they both said.

Chapter Text

Da Vinci and DJ are in the garden, talking while focusing on their respective interests. "...Urgh... Still doesn't sound right..." DJ mutters, rewriting his note sheat. "You've been... rewriting that piece a lot. I'm honestly surprised the paper is still intact," Da Vinci remarks. "I know, just... Do you ever feel like you don't quite know what to write, or, in your case, draw?" the musical pup asks. "More often than you'd think. An art block is really not something I wanna experience, but... it still happens."

"Art block, huh? I get it, I think. You want to do something, but can't, for whatever reason. Can't say I've experienced it yet, but... I'm guessing this right now is one?" DJ asys. Da Vinci chuckles. "Hehe, probably. You know what I always do when I have one? I try to focus on doing other things I enjoy. It isn't always easy, but it helps. Sometimes I just look out the window, other times I talk or play with some of our siblings. It maybe doesn't work for you, but it works for me." Da Vinci thinks for a second. "...Are you sure you didn't experience any art blocks before? Not even before you moved from America?"

That, in turn, caused DJ to think. Trying to pinpoint any possible time only brought up a few memories, not so happy memories. "...I... guess... After Mom died.... I kinda didn't feel like even.. touching an instrument... Mom is kind of the reason I even became invested in music in the first place..." he says. "...That's the second time someone mentioned your mother in two days. Dolly also did, alongside... something about Dante and him not having been in the best state mentally?"

DJ froze up. Oh, how he didn't want to think about that ever again. "She... did, huh?" he asks nervously. "...Yup. She was kinda defensive too. But she said it wasn't anything important, so... I won't push," Da Vinci shrugs. This calmed DJ just the tiniest bit. "...Alright. Yeah, makes sense. ...So... What exactly are you drawing?" he asks. Da Vinci put down her colored pencil, looking up at DJ. "I'm trying to make a family portrait. You would think human hands are easy, but nope. They're honestly really difficult," they say.

"Family portrait? Don't we usually let Dawkins and Dylan prepare everything for that?" DJ asks, giving a confused look. "Yup. But... I wanted to try doing one myself. I did start this before... you-know-what... but never finished it. The whole... mental shutdown thing... I also didn't think Hunter would join the household, so I needed to redo some parts to make everything fit. Once again, human hands are incredibly difficult to draw. ...That brings me to another thing. What exactly are you even trying to write?"

"Nothing, really. I don't exactly know when Hunter's birthday is, so no birthday song so far. And you all don't have yours this month. The closest would be Dante, but his is on Halloween, so yeah. I guess it's just to clear my head?" DJ answers. "I mean, I haven't exactly thought of a reason yet."

"Huh. That... doesn't exactly sound like you. Not that I mind, it's just... You normally write with purpose. You do enjoy it, but still. I... actually find it good that you don't have a reason right now," Da Vinci says. "Really? For you it's the opposite I'd say. You often draw or paint without purpose, just for fun. The few times you 'did' draw with any reason didn't exactly go well. Urgh... Still kind of angry at Snowball for that," DJ says. The two remain silent for a moment, then go back to what they were doing before.

Chapter Text

Today was quiet day. Probably too quiet for the dalmatian household. Things definitely went better than some months ago, especially due to Hunter being with the family of 101 now. Though, one thing only seemed to go downhill... Dante's mental state. For most of the family, that would already be concerning, but it was especially concerning for those who knew about something that happened back when Doug's part of the family still lived in the US. Dante's worsening mental state put mostly Dolly, DJ and Doug into an overprotective and overcautious, maybe even hypervigilant, mood. They made sure that at least one of them was with the inverted dalmatian at. All. Times.

Dylan was a bit confused. "Are you... sure this is needed? Dante doesn't exactly seem like the type to do anything drastic," he says to Dolly. "You don't get it, do you? He's attempted it before, and it was a very close call. I will not let it happen ever again. Most of us already have enough trauma due to... her... We don't need the pups to witness, or in mine and DJ's case re-witness, him attempting to k- k- ki- ...Nope, can't even say it..." Dolly says with a semblance of uncharacteristic urgency. "I get your point, but still. Dante's older now, isn't he? I'm not saying I dismiss your worries, but even I think you don't need to be worried."

"Worried about what?" a voice asks. Turning towards it, it's DJ. "About Dante," Dolly answers. "Oh... Yeah, you should really worry. As much as I trust Dante, outside of his usual "end of the world" spiel, I don't exactly trust him not to do anything drastic right now. You haven't seen him back then... I swear, I get nightmares just thinking about it... All the scared sobs... The muttering... The b-b-b-blood... I-I can't even-" DJ sets out into a hyperventilated breathing. Dolly carefully placed a paw on his head, petting it soothingly. "Shh... Shh... It's fine... It's fine... Dante is still here, little musician... He's still here..." she coos. Dylan was even more confused. "You... are really experienced in this, huh? Was it really that bad?" Dolly only gives a small, barely noticeable nod.

"...Alright... I think this calls for an emergency talk..." Dylan says, slowly removing himself from the situation. Not because he doesn't want to deal with this, but because he can't. He's never experienced this before, after all.

Entering the kitchen, he found Doug and Delilah studying a cookbook. "Trust me, it's far more difficult than it sounds," Dylan says. Doug and Delilah turned to him. "Oh, good morning, Dylan. Is there any reason you're in the kitchen right now? I mean, we did promise to cook for Hunter when we have time," Delilah says. "Kind of? ...I think we need to talk about the whole "Dante" situation." Doug and Delilah froze. "Oh. That is... an interesting topic... What exactly do you want to talk about?" Doug asks. "...Emergency talk," Dylan answers. The two adults understand immediately. "Oh, that Dante situation... Are you perfectly sure you want to talk about that? I mean, you have your paws full with the pups, the household, and Hunter to some extent. We wouldn't-" Dylan cuts Doug off.

"Dad, you always avoid this topic. I mean, I kind of get why, past trauma and all, but seriously. Even Dolly is worried, and she's the least concerned person when it comes to reckless acts. ...Much to my dismay..." Dylan mumbles the last part. Doug sighs. "...You're right... I've... been putting this off for a long, long time... Not even Delilah knows the full story..." Delilah gave an incredibly concerned and confused look. "Wait, what? I don't? It isn't exactly like you to keep secrets, Doug," she says. Doug looks away in shame. "Sigh... I just didn't intend to worry you all... Dolly and DJ already had a hard time back then... It... It isn't exactly pleasant... Oh dog... I should have really listend to Johnathan back then..." Doug sighs.

Chapter Text

Dylan was shaking. Full on shaking in fear, sorrow, and a tinge of great worry. "H-He... Holy fluff... I-I don't- Why would- He-" he stammered. Delilah, in the meantime, was just... staring silently. Eventually, she spoke up. "You're telling me, my child... He... And you... never told me? Our child almost committed suicide in an incredibly sophisticated manner, and you never told me? What bloody explanation do you have?" she mutters somewhere between a growl and worry. Doug took a step back. "...I... don't... All I can say is that I just didn't want you all to worry... I have no possible explanation that would warrant an apology... I don't even really want forgiveness... I lied to you about what happened... I lied to my wife of all animals..."

Delilah sighs. "By that logic, I don't deserve forgiveness either. I told nobody here about Cruella, for dog's sake. Not counting you, I mean," she says, taking a deep breath. Dolly, who silently listened, spoke up. "I guess now you see how I felt over these past months. Not a nice feeling. To be clear, I still don't trust you two not to keep any more secrets. You kept the one about Cruella after all," she says with a huff. DJ awkwardly clears his throat. "Y-Yeah... Can we just... not talk about this anymore? I really don't need to re-experience that..." he mutters. "Oh, we- ...Yeah. I got what I needed anyways. ...Wait, if we're all here... Who kept an eye on Dante?" Dylan asks. "...We should start searching. Now!"

The five started by looking in Dante's usual spots, mostly quiet, dark places. Then they went onto his less usual ones. Nothing. Hunter watched in confusion, as did a lot of the pups. "...What exactly is this supposed to be?" he asks, bringing Dylan to a hold. "Oh, uhm... N-Nothing, really. ...Say, have you seen Dante?" he asks. "...The one with the spiky collar, right? ...I think he said something about going outside? Not too sure... Your family is quite loud at times... Maybe ask that corgi?" Dylan laughed at the mere notion. "You want me to ask Clarissa? She'd much rather see us spectacularly failing to build a pool than help us." Hunter shrugs. "I dunno... She seems kind of calm, if a bit rude at times." Dylan sighs. "Urgh... I'm only going to ask her because you recommended it..." he reluctantly agrees.

Ringing the doorbell, Dylan begrudgingly waited. It took a few minutes, but eventually someone did open the door. "...Ugh. It's one of the ruff-raffs... What do you want from us?" a shih tzu asks in a condescending manner. "I just need to ask Clarissa something," Dylan states, trying to walk past her. However, Arabella blocks him. "Oh, Clarissa has far better things to do than to answer any of your silly questions. Now, hush. Your presence is not welcome here." Dylan growls. "I need to speak with Clarissa." He once again tried to get through Arabella, but she wouldn't budge. "Come on, what could a mutt like you want from her? There's nothing that important going on in the life of you or those other lowlifes you call "family"." That was enough for Dylan. "Get out my damned way! This could be a life-or-death situation, you bloody prick! Why do you think I'd want to ask Clarissa of all animals?! I could have asked Constantine, or any other animal in Camden, but no! I need to speak to Clarissa!" he growled in a very low manner. Arabella gulped, making way for a very pissed off Dylan.

Storming into the living room, he immediately rushed towards the corgi. "Clarissa! I need your help! Have you or have you not seen Dante?! You know, black fur with white and purple spots? Roughly this large? Wears a spiky collar? Constantly in a depressed mood?" he asks hurriedly. "Calm down, r- ...dalmatian. I don't think I've seen your brother this week. Not out of your house, at least. Why are you asking anyway?" Clarissa asks. Dylan began pacing, stressed and worried, an even rarer combo of emotions on him than simple stress. "Oh dog. Oh dog. Oh dog... If he isn't home, and you haven't-" He began hyperventilating. "Clarissa, send out a Camden-wide message on the World Wide Woof. We need to find my brother. This is a possible life-or-death situation!" Clarissa was growing concerned as well. She's never seen Dylan like this, not even once. "I- Alright, I'll- I'll do it. Anything else, ru- ...dalmatian?" she asks, however Dylan was already rushing off.

Chapter Text

A horse was rushing through the streets of Camden, once again carrying Dylan and Dolly on her back. "And you're sure about this? I mean, he is still a child..." she asks the two. "Am I sure? Am I sure?! I've never been more sure about something! Not since..." Dolly goes silent. "Since Cruella?" Pearl asks, though something tells her that isn't why. "...Just know that it's necessary, Officer Pearl," Dylan sighs.

Near the canals, a group consisting of a fox, a rat and a squirrel were checking the area. "Doesn't seem like Dante to just run off. Wonder what happened," the fox, Fergus, says. "Yeah. He always seemed level-headed, not counting the whole doom and gloom thing. If anything, I'd have expected maybe Da Vinci or Dawkins," the rat, Big Fee, says.

The graveyard was checked by a sausage dog in a suit and a goth poodle. "I can't belief none of them thought to search the graveyard. If he's another, it's probably here," the poodle, Portia, says. "Right you are. I do wonder what caused this behavior, though. He isn't one to just run off, from my experience," the sausage dog, Spencer, agrees.

In the park, Hansel, Clarissa, Constantine and a seagull called Chips, were searching. "...And why exactly are you helping?" Hansel asks the corgi. Clarissa sighs. "...Urgh... The puppy has kind of grown on me. Those dalmatians might still irritate me at times, but... Sigh... After some events, I reflected a bit... Do not tell anyone about this! Please... I just... Sigh..." Clarissa answers. Constantine, who listened in, spoke up. "You mean after whatever that woman did? Deepak told me a bit, but... It isn't my place to tell others without my disciple's permission. If I did, I wouldn't get to meet the great Master Miaow in the great beyond. ...And I'd break Deepak's trust."

Clarissa looked down at the ground for a moment, before speaking up again. "...I... wasn't always like this, you know? So... uptight, I think is the word? When I was younger, I was quite alone. I never had friends, never needed them... I was... lonely, though... A loneliness  couldn't quite place. One day I met Arabella and Prunella and... things changed. I had friends, got better... At least that's what I thought... After the events with that woman, I... got around to thinking. I never actually... got to know anyone, did I?" Clarissa lets out a breath she didn't quite know she was holding in. "...I... left those dogs alone for a while, just... thinking. Why exactly did I... dislike them this much?  It took a while, but eventually I figured it out. I wasn't angry, I was jealous. They seemed to have everything I didn't... They had a family, fun, had... friends they actually got along with. Now, don't get me wrong. I don't dislike Arabella and Prunella, but... They're still not exactly animals I get along with. I laugh with them, talk with them and more, yet... There's still this... disconnect I'm feeling."

Clarissa went quiet for a minute, then let out a quiet, self-deprecating chuckle. "Hehe... It's... funny. I tried so hard to fit in, yet I always seem to have been an outsider... ...You know, Dante actually... wanted to talk with me a while ago. He... helped me realise my guilt, yet... That wasn't why he came to me for. To 'me' of all dogs... He told me how he himself was feeling guilty for... everything. Even for things that happened in his past... Even for things that he can't have been responsible for, no matter how you look at it... It's... jarring. Those dogs always seemed so... bright and upbeat... That whole thing with that woman must have... really taken a mental toll on them... I... I think I should really tell them I'm sorry for everything I ever did to them... And maybe also speak to Arabella and Prunella about their behaviour towards them..."

Meanwhile, in a part of Camden close to a border, two men notice a black-furred dalmatian. "Hey, Jasper, isn't that a dalmatian? How much you want to bet that's one of the dogs Cruella wants us to find?" Jasper chuckles. "Hehe... Seems like we finally have some luck. P.H. will certainly be happy. And Cruella even more..." Dante notices the two men and tries to flee. However, it's too late. Dante sees one last ray of light, before getting stuffed into a sack.

Chapter Text

Hunter was looking near the outer parts of Camden, feeling like there's something about Dante there. The parts of town were quiet, unnervingly so. You'd be more surprised not to find any ghost stories about these parts, especially with Hell Hall. Speaking of which, Hunter is... conflicted about said place. He knows who it belonged to, but doesn't know why Cruella abandoned it. Walking a bit further, he found small pawsteps and tufts of black fur. No doubt, Dante was here. He pulled out his phone, trying to call everyone, but noticed the signal. "...Urgh... Seriously? Why is the signal here this weak? ...That means I should just return to the others..." he sighs, walking back towards larger Camden.

Arriving there, he met up with Dylan, Dolly and Pearl, who were also now going into the direction Hunter came from. "Hunter! Have you found him? Have you found Dante?!" Dolly exclaims, slightly causing Hunter to flinch from surprise. "Not exactly... I have found some dark fur and pawsteps. I followed them, but... they stopped abruptly," he answers. "That's... That's more than nothing... Where did you find them?" Pearl asks. Hunter looked at the two dalmatians for a translation. "She asks here you found them, Hunter," Dylan translate. "Near that path towards that old mansion. Hell Hall, if I remember correctly?" The three animals look confused. "Hell... what now?" Dolly asks, having never heard of it. "Hell Hall... An old mansion the... De Vils owned... My aunt was the last known owner of it," Hunter says. "Oh... That old place... Isn't it abandoned?" Dylan asks. "It should be. That place is really run down, too... Still, I most definitely found Dante's tracks near there," Hunter answers. "Then we have found our goal," Dolly says with fear and resolve.

"Rally everyone together. We've got a mansion to storm," Dolly continues. "And I have just the plan..." Dylan gets worried. "Dolly, as much as I love you, your plans more often than not involve... chaos. A lot of it." Dolly shrugs. "Eh, worked pretty well for me so far. I wouldn't worry too much." Dylan, still worried, agrees. "Alright, fine. But please talk over it with Dawkins before. We don't need a repeat of last christmas..." Dylan shudders at the mere thought of what happened. "Fine..." Dolly mutters. "But only 'cause I don't anyone getting hurt!" Hunter chuckles, surprising himself. "That's... new," he thinks.

Chapter Text

Dante woke up in an old building. He wasn't quite sure where he was, only that some men puppynapped him. Looking around, he saw... a cat. A sphynx cat. "Awake? Finally," the cat mutters. "Took those dimwits long enough to catch one of your family." Dante was... confused. "Wait, you're... Cuddles, right?" The cat huffs. "Of course I am! Who else would I be?" he says in shock and annoyance. "Sorry, just... never heard you talk before," Dante apologises "Never needed to. Only reason I'm even talking to you is to show you just how little I care about you. Once that old guy gets his hands on the rest of your flea-infested household, Cruella will give further instructions. If those tow idiots even manage to talk to her, that is. Whatever Cruella says-" Cuddles unsheathes his claws on one paw, trailing them down Dante's cheek. "-I'm sure I'll be liking it." To demonstrate, Cuddles throws a piece of paper upwards, shredding it to pieces with his claws. "Now rest well, or don't. I'm sure your screams will be all the more delightful like that." Dante gulps, Cuddles leaving him with an unnerving chuckle.

Outside the building, along the path towards it, the dalmatians, Clarissa, Pearl, the Canal Crew, Constantin, and Hansel were walking alongside Hunter. "And you're sure this is the path? I mean, you said it yourself, you've never actually visited the place," Dawkins asks. "Yep, I'm sure. I've spent a while researching the area, particularly to figure some stuff about my family out. For some reason, it's weirdly hard to find anything." Delilah sighs. "I... am sorry for that. Roger and Anita seem to have had some connections, alongside her. The whole story has been swept under the rug. I'm pretty sure most humans and animals don't even remember what some specific anniversaries are for anymore." Hunter looks at the female dalmatian. "Hey, don't sweat it. History gets lost all the time. Sometimes you just need to dig a bit to find it. I'm sure there's plenty out there that I can find." Delilah chuckles. "Thanks, Hunter."

The mansion was finally in view. It was old, dilapidating, and had... a power generator most definitely not found anywhere normal. "...Seems like we're not gonna be alone here. Look out for any possible danger," Pearl warns. Stepping further near the building, Hunter noticed two men. "...Are those...? Urgh... Great... Aunty's henchmen are here," he sighs. "Henchmen?" Da Vinci asks in confusion. "Yep. Horace and Jasper Badun. Shouldn't be living anymore either, but here they are, alive and kicking... Seems like we won't have it easy..." Hansel steps forward. "Then we won't make it easy either. They do have a friend of ours, after all." Constantin also speaks up. "And the brother of my disciple. If anyone wants to harm Dante, they'll have to feel my claws. ...I'm already praying for Guru Miaow's forgiveness." Clarissa clears her throat. "Right. You may still be quite irritating at times, but you've kind of grown on me. I don't think I'll enjoy my life quite as much with one less of you around." Dolly laughs. "Was- Was that a compliment? From Clarissa of all dogs?! Today must have been the day the universe decided to pull the greatest prank in history!" she snorts. "...Belief it or not, what I said is true. I don't want the little guy to get hurt."

Dolly looks at her, confused. "Wait, what? You're... serious? You actually mean this? Gee, what happened to the snobby, uptight neighbor from earlier?" she asks, somewhat rethorically. "...I thought about things. And... I want to say I'm sorry for everything I've ever done to you. From the thing about making fun of Dylan, all the way to causing the flea infestation and worse. I truly am sorry for what I did. It doesn't excuse my actions, but... I was most likely jealous of your family. I don't expect any of you to accept my apology, I wouldn't deserve it." Dylan sighs. "I won't forgive you, Clarissa. But I'm willing to start anew. If you promise to not make a joke out of my family every chance you get, I'd be willing to potentially invite you to my treehouse." Clarissa wasn't quite sure what that meant, but was glad none the less. "I'll... I'll try... ...But for now, let's rescue Dante."

Chapter Text

Hunter, Hansel and Da Vinci were hiding behind a bush, watching Horace's patrol route. "He seems to be mostly circling that area... If we can cause for a distraction..." Hunter mumbles. "Distraction? Hm... How about the seagull?" Hansel suggests. "You mean Chips? It... could work..." Da Vinci agrees. "Well then... ...Who's gonna call him without causing attention?" That was a good question, admitably. "Alright then, different plan."

Meanwhile, Dylan, Dawkins and Clarissa were looking after Jasper. "Seems to be the smarter one... If we manage to hide behind that... No, too risky... Or maybe... Urgh... Why is this so difficult?! That woman was easier to trick than this!" Dylan mumbles. "How about climbing through thatcwindow?" Dawkins suggests, paw pointing towards an easily reachable, broken window. "...That might work."

In the mansion, P.H. was hunched over the laptop, still trying to figure out what some of the files were even for. "Prototypes for some game... Lists for possible plans... Licenses... Furriers...? And... Huh? What's this...?" P.H. found a very, very interesting folder. One labeled "Relatives". "Why would she even need this one...?" Opening it, he noticed that the names were labeled as either alive, missing, or most of the time... dead. "Ivy? Missing... Her parents? Dead... Cecil? Dead... Huh?" One name stuck out. The name of a blonde teen he never even knew about. "...Hunter De Vil? Who in the name of God is "Hunter De Vil"?" he mumbled. Searching for files mentioning said boy, he found a few things. "Hunter De Vil... Great-nephew of Cruella, making him my cousin-once-removed... Son of Cecil B. De Vil... Currently supposed to live with Cruella... Worked out so well, didn't it? ...Now, what's so important about the boy?"

Hunter, Da Vinci and Hansel finally saw Horace doze off. "Seems simple minded..." Hunter mumbles, sneaking by and into the mansion. The inside was, expectedly, in a large state of disrepair. The floorboards were creaking, a chandelier was hanging just above the main hall, squeaking horrificaly, and a door stood open just a bit. "Must be where he's being hidden... Da Vinci, you stay with Hansel. I don't know who or what is in there, so I want you to stay safe." Da Vinci nods.

Going towards the door, Hunter peaked in slightly. Inside was a man, most likely in his 80s, hunched over a laptop, muttering and mumbling to himself. Hunter tried opening the door quietly, but it was far too old to do so. "Huh? Intruders? Or is it those two dimwits again?" the man muttered. Turning around, he saw... the boy. The boy that he just looked through files for. Hunter De Vil. The man didn't move, didn't blink, only stared. Not horrifyingly, mind you. Rather, in a way that you'd see on someone who just saw a ghost or long lost family member.

Chapter Text

P.H. stared at Hunter. "...Hunter De Vil, I presume?" he asks. Hunter, blinking slowly, answers with a confused "Yes?" P.H. sighs. "Figures... Seems like we have a lot to catch up on. Let me introduce myself. I'm P.H. De Vil, your great-aunt's... cousin," he says solemnly. "Before you say anything, I don't want to fight you. Just take that puppy and leave. Cruella messed up, severely."

Hunter stared at his supposed cousin-once-removed. "My... aunt's cousin? No no no, that can't be. She told me that-" P.H. cuts him off. "That you and her are the last De Vils? Figures. Never learned about you, either," he sighs. "Urgh... Why do I even trust that woman in anything...?"

Hunter was confused, shocked, and... angry. "So, you're telling me that my aunt lied, again?! ...Wait, hold up, why should I trust you? You could just be lying as well," he says with apprehension. "Do it, or don't. Don't really care. I've gotten my end of the deal done, so that witch can rot in her prison cell for all I care."

Hunter couldn't belief what he just heard. He... had another relative? He has another relative?! At this point, he had enough "And aun- No, Cruella never told me?! Oh, I swear to all that I love, that woman can stay the heck away from me! I'm done with this! ...Could you just give me Dante? I don't even want to see anything related to that damned woman!" he exclaimed.

"Uh... You mean that dalmatian, right? Can't belief she's still obsessed with those dogs..." P.H. mutters. That confused Hunter again. "Still? What do you mean "still"?" P.H. sighs once more. "Roughly 30 years ago she tried to turn this family's ancestors into a fur coat. I'm guessing things repeated?"

Hunter couldn't belief his ears. The more he hears about that woman, the more he just hates her. "That god be damned- Nope. No. I've had the heck enough! That woman... That god be damned Devil Woman! She ruined my whole damn life! Ruined that whole family's life! And the worst part? I let her ruin my life! All because I didn't realise that she was just using me! God... I hate that woman so much..."

P.H. saw the boy pacing. He... honestly felt bad for him. "Just what did Cruella do...?" he muttered. Hunter turned to him. "What she did? She used me to get to those dalmatians! She knows I love animals, especially dogs, manipulating me into her perfect, obedient little puppet! Then she lied about my family! Not only that, now you're telling me that this wasn't the first time she tried skinning that family?!" Hunter, at this point, was breathing heavily.

"...She... abused you... She abused you. God damn it! That's it. Get that puppy, leave, and... Here," P.H. quickly jotted down a number. "My phone number. If you feel ready, call." Hunter took the note, though weary. Knowing how his aunt used him, he didn't exactly trust P.H. "...Sure. Where is Dante?" P.H. sighed. Down the hall, last room. Beware of the cat."

Dante heard a slow squeaking, the door opening. "Huh? Who's...?" he mumbled. Through the door came Hunter. The inside of said room, however, made it hard to actually see Dante, his fur making him near invisible. "Dante? Dante?" Hunter called out. Dante was happy at first, but then drooped. Why would anyone even look for him?

Hunter turned on his phone's flashlight. The room was dusty, cluttered, and small. It honestly made Hunter feel a bit of sadness, mostly due to reminding him of De Vil Tower's basement. Looking around, he finally found the cage Dante was in. "There you are! Finally... Come on, let's get you out of here," Hunter says, trying to open the cage.

That was, until he was nearly hit by a claw swipe. The swipe was from none other than Cuddles, of course. "Cuddles? What are you doing here?" Hunter asks. Cuddles, however, didn't respond. He just swiped at Hunter again. At least until he heard a yelp. Cuddles, apparently, got bitten by Da Vinci, who looked guilty. "S-sorry... I know violence isn't... uhm... S-sorry..." they apologised. "No problem. Just keep Cuddles busy. I'll get Dante out. Also, don't get yourself hurt." Da Vinci nods.

Quickly unlocking the cage, Hunter scooped up Dante, carrying him outside. Da Vinci soon followed, she herself followed by Cuddles. Cuddles, however, backed away upon seeing roughly 106 angry pets. Hunter himself didn't look pleased either. Cuddles quickly fled, giving one last warning glare.

Chapter Text

A week... A week has passed since the Dante incident. Hunter is staring at his phone, the number P.H. gave him in his other hand. Hunter is... unsure. His experience with family hasn't been... great. He noticed Dante walk past his room, muttering something. Hunter thought about calling him over, but... He didn't want to disturb the puppy.

Sighing, he stuffed the number away. Going towards the roof, he noticed it was open. Strange for the time of day, considering it's almost night. Up on the roof was Da Vinci. They were looking up, somewhat daydreaming. "Uhm... Hey?" Hunter greeted awkwardly. Despite his time with the family of dogs, he still isn't quite sure how to act around them.

Da Vinci gave a small "Hi," not looking towards Hunter. Said boy went to sit next to the artist, looking up as well. "It's... really clear tonight," he mumbled, not meaning to say it aloud. "Yeah. ...Hey, Hunter? You ever feel like there's something... wrong with you?" Da Vinci asks. "Wrong with me...? Wouldn't say wrong, just... different. I mean, how many humans can understand dogs? Hehe... he..." Hunter chuckled awkwardly.

"...Sometimes I feel like I'm faking stuff. Like... Like I'm just pretending. I've had these feelings since I realized I wasn't a boy... ...You... realised not all of us are "normal", by some standars. But... We're still us, right?" Da Vinci says. Hunter honestly didn't expect this from Da Vinci of all dogs. He knew she was the second most emotionally mature of the older puppies, not counting her... episodes, but still. This sounded more like something Deepak would say.

"...I'm just wondering "What now?" We've... gotten Dante back. My aun- Cruella's in jail, and I... met another family member. I just... I realise I barely know anything about my family. My parents died in an accident involving some old TV show, my cousin Ivy is... I honestly don't know... And now I know just how much that woman messed up both me, and your family... I feel... disgusted... Yet I still can't bring myself to completely hate Cruella. Is that... normal?"

"She was your family, the only one for years. I'd say it would be weird if you completely hated her. ...You know, I... I think I know what accident you're talking about. My grandpa once told me about one. A fire occured during a filming for something Thunderbolt related. That's... an old TV show my grandpa liked. He could recount every episode, no matter how obscure." Da Vinci sighs, looking down. "...Hunter? Please promise me something... If you need help, don't hesitate to ask. You might think that'd be a given, but... I already learned what not taking it might entail... It's... not pleasant."

Hunter nods. "...Alright. I promise. ...Hey, it's... almost Christmas, right? How do you all celebrate?" Da Vinci blinked for a second, then tried to explain. "Well... Mom and Dad set things up with Dylan and Dolly. Dawkins, Deepak, DJ and I plan most things. Triple D is... Honestly, they're still most of our income." Hunter still gleed at the mention of the three. "Hehe, sorry. Still a fan of the three. Didn't expect them to be... this uptight at times, though. Anyways... Continue." Da Vinci chuckled. "Well... Not much more to say. Dante is usually more our guy for Halloween decor. ...Sometimes Dad invites old friends from New York. Dolly, too. Can't exactly complain, considering New York is... kind of the reason I realised some things about myself."

Hunter nods. "I... think I get it. Life's... complicated, hm? Hehe... I... Honestly, I didn't think any of this would even happen. I mean, I'm living here, even after I... you know... Still, I'm... trying. I... If I started therapy, I probably wouldn't even know where to start. I mean, how do you explain living with a family of dogs that you almost furred because your great-aunt emotionally manipulated and neglected you just because you were useful?" He sighs, looking away from the dog in bandana. "...What do you... see in me?" He asks.

"Hm... You're kind, helpful, fun, and friendly. You might have some issues, but they're still you. Your past may be... well... your past, but that shouldn't decide who you are now. As should the future not decide who you are right now. It's... kind of like painting. You might make mistakes, but those mistakes can be happy little accidents. If you worry too much about how it turns out, the worse it might look. Just focus on one step at a time, and maybe it'll turn out alright, if not better than what you imagined." Da Vinci stood up, walking towards the staircase towards indoors. "...Night, Hunter." Hunter looks at them. "...Night, Da Vinci."