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Description

Axl curiously eyed his iguana bandmate Iggy, who was nervously bobbing his head in anticipation as he sat alongside his reptilian bandmate in the Nightriders’ van. “What are you doing, Iggy?”
    “Waiting for the apocalypse,” Iggy replied nonchalantly, in a tone counter to his timorous actions.
    “What ‘apocalypse’?” asked Axl in confusion.
    Not even a second after he had asked the question, Axl heard the sound of Rolf letting out a roar of anger as he stormed towards the van, exiting the opulent-looking skyscraper he had been in for the past fifteen minutes.
    “Oh, you mean that apocalypse.”
    Rolf climbed into the van alongside Selena and slammed his fist against the van’s interior wall, letting out a second frustrated grunt.
    “What’s wrong?” Axl asked, turning to look at Rolf with a concerned look on his face.
    “Sanders has got sand in his ears, that’s what!” Rolf shouted in response.
    Selena sighed and turned to face Axl. “Mr. Sanders denied our request to have the new album distributed,” she explained somberly.
    Axl’s reptilian eyes widened. “What? You’re kidding me! He was our last guy!” He let out an aggravated sigh, his tail swishing back and forth as it usually did during these moments of contention, and slumped back into his seat defeatedly. “What are we supposed to do now?”
    “There’s nothing we can do,” Selena said in a resigned tone. “We’ve been to every distributor in Beach City and every single one of them’s turned us down.”
    Axl furrowed his brow curiously. “Did Sanders give any reason why he didn’t wanna distribute the album?”
    “Oh, you bet he did,” Rolf growled, sitting up in his seat. “Apparently it had something to do with my ‘CALAMITOUS TEMPER’!”
    “Why am I not surprised…,” Axl muttered, rolling his eyes.
    “Shut up, Axl,” Rolf spat. “I’m not in the mood for your remarks.”
    “He’s got a point, Rolf!” Selena said, raising her voice. “I mean you did make a racist remark about golden retrievers.”
    “He’s a retriever,” Rolf retorted. “Retrievers love to play fetch!”
    As Rolf and Selena proceeded to argue between each other, Axl could feel his cold blood begin to boil. He generally had a strained relationship with Rolf and it was already conspicuous that he and Rolf didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye all the time, but despite doing everything in his power to abstain from falling out with his canine friend, it was moments like these that drove Axl’s anger, which, upon indulging in Rolf’s hostile temperament, had a habit of becoming uncontrollable.
    “I can’t do this anymore,” Axl said, letting out a heavy sigh as he exited the van. He stepped out onto the street and began to walk away, his hands buried into his jeans pockets. He heard the sound of more doors opening and closing behind him and heard Rolf call out. “Where are you going?”
    “Away,” Axl grunted loudly in response as he continued walking while Rolf, Iggy and Selena watched him round the corner of one of the nearby buildings and disappear from view.
    ***
    Axl continued walking through the city streets, unable to shake of the constant feeling of discourage that followed him. Between the exhausting workload of recording a new album, Rolf’s constant antagonistic attitude, and their ever-growing rivalry with the Dreamcatchers he was unable to find a moment’s peace. He continued to wander the streets, listening to the sound of the nightlife around him; the sound of the occasional car rumbling past, the gentle buzzing of each passing street light, and the cool evening air helped to alleviate the feeling of animosity that dithered in the pit of his stomach.
    Axl turned yet another corner and spotted a familiar white wolf sitting atop a parked Harley Danielson motorcycle with a lit cigarette in his hand, leaning forward with his arms draped over the handles. Axl approached the man, who glanced up at him and whose glowing yellow eyes widened in recognition of the lizard.
    “Axl,” Shane grunted curtly. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

    Axl sneered at Shane disapprovingly, a feeling of indignation stewing within him. “Hardly a ‘pleasure’, considering you attacked my bandmate the other night.”
    Shane looked up at Axl unheedingly and inimically blew a puff of smoke into his face, causing him to cough softly. “I believe it was Rolf who threw the first punch.”
    Axl scoffed, wafting away the smoke with his hand. “OK, yeah, but you didn’t exactly help the situation.”
    All of a sudden, Shane let out a heavy sigh and spoke once more, his tone now precipitously low, almost as if he were ashamed. “I know. Look, if you see him, tell him I’m sorry, will ya?”
    Axl furrowed his brow, taken aback by the wolf’s sudden change in demeanor. “You can tell him yersssself,” he hissed. “He’s sitting outside that stupid distribution office right now, cursing the skies.”
    “I take it your meeting didn’t go too well?” Shane asked, smirking.
    Axl frowned in puzzlement. “How do you know we had a meeting there?”
    “Word of mouth,” Shane replied casually with a shrug.
    Axl sighed. “Nah, it didn’t go so well; we’ve paid a visit to every distributor in Beach City and every single one of them have turned up down. “I don’t understand… why do all the distributors hate us all of a sudden? I mean, we’re the Nightriders, for cryin’ out loud!”
    Shane stared inattentively ahead, taking another draw from his cigarette. “Beats me,” he said monotonously.
    Axl released another sigh, drooping his shoulders. “Listen… I’ll tell Rolf you said sorry, OK?”
    “Thanks,” Shane grunted. “I would do it myself, but I don’t think he’d be too happy to see my face after what happened.”
    “I getcha,” Axl muttered.
    Shane turned back to face Axl, a look of contrite on his face. “I don’t want there to be any bad blood between us, Axl. I’m just here so I can make music, that’s all. I don’t wanna spark any sort of rivalry with ya.”

    “Hey,” Axl said, smiling softly and placing a hand on Shane’s shoulder. “No worries, bro. I ain’t got nothin’ against ya, and I never will. You’re cool in my book, Shane.”
    Axl managed to catch a glimpse of a smile flashing on Shane’s snout, before he kicked up the motorcycle’s footrest and ignited the engine. The motorcycle rumbled to life and began to growl softly as Shane remained in position, still facing Axl.
    “Thanks, buddy.”
    Shane held out a closed fist and the two exchanged a cordial fistbump before Shane revved up the engine and sped off into the night, his long white hair billowing out behind him. Shane glanced back at Axl over his shoulder as he sped away, before turning back to face the road, a look of disgust etched into his face.
    “Freak.”

Illustration by mattieguy95

Thanks for reading!

A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing (Part 5):

A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing (Prologue):

The Dreamcatchers belong to ShaneWolfrik
The Nightriders belong to AxlReigns

Description

Axl curiously eyed his iguana bandmate Iggy, who was nervously bobbing his head in anticipation as he sat alongside his reptilian bandmate in the Nightriders’ van. “What are you doing, Iggy?”
    “Waiting for the apocalypse,” Iggy replied nonchalantly, in a tone counter to his timorous actions.
    “What ‘apocalypse’?” asked Axl in confusion.
    Not even a second after he had asked the question, Axl heard the sound of Rolf letting out a roar of anger as he stormed towards the van, exiting the opulent-looking skyscraper he had been in for the past fifteen minutes.
    “Oh, you mean that apocalypse.”
    Rolf climbed into the van alongside Selena and slammed his fist against the van’s interior wall, letting out a second frustrated grunt.
    “What’s wrong?” Axl asked, turning to look at Rolf with a concerned look on his face.
    “Sanders has got sand in his ears, that’s what!” Rolf shouted in response.
    Selena sighed and turned to face Axl. “Mr. Sanders denied our request to have the new album distributed,” she explained somberly.
    Axl’s reptilian eyes widened. “What? You’re kidding me! He was our last guy!” He let out an aggravated sigh, his tail swishing back and forth as it usually did during these moments of contention, and slumped back into his seat defeatedly. “What are we supposed to do now?”
    “There’s nothing we can do,” Selena said in a resigned tone. “We’ve been to every distributor in Beach City and every single one of them’s turned us down.”
    Axl furrowed his brow curiously. “Did Sanders give any reason why he didn’t wanna distribute the album?”
    “Oh, you bet he did,” Rolf growled, sitting up in his seat. “Apparently it had something to do with my ‘CALAMITOUS TEMPER’!”
    “Why am I not surprised…,” Axl muttered, rolling his eyes.
    “Shut up, Axl,” Rolf spat. “I’m not in the mood for your remarks.”
    “He’s got a point, Rolf!” Selena said, raising her voice. “I mean you did make a racist remark about golden retrievers.”
    “He’s a retriever,” Rolf retorted. “Retrievers love to play fetch!”
    As Rolf and Selena proceeded to argue between each other, Axl could feel his cold blood begin to boil. He generally had a strained relationship with Rolf and it was already conspicuous that he and Rolf didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye all the time, but despite doing everything in his power to abstain from falling out with his canine friend, it was moments like these that drove Axl’s anger, which, upon indulging in Rolf’s hostile temperament, had a habit of becoming uncontrollable.
    “I can’t do this anymore,” Axl said, letting out a heavy sigh as he exited the van. He stepped out onto the street and began to walk away, his hands buried into his jeans pockets. He heard the sound of more doors opening and closing behind him and heard Rolf call out. “Where are you going?”
    “Away,” Axl grunted loudly in response as he continued walking while Rolf, Iggy and Selena watched him round the corner of one of the nearby buildings and disappear from view.
    ***
    Axl continued walking through the city streets, unable to shake of the constant feeling of discourage that followed him. Between the exhausting workload of recording a new album, Rolf’s constant antagonistic attitude, and their ever-growing rivalry with the Dreamcatchers he was unable to find a moment’s peace. He continued to wander the streets, listening to the sound of the nightlife around him; the sound of the occasional car rumbling past, the gentle buzzing of each passing street light, and the cool evening air helped to alleviate the feeling of animosity that dithered in the pit of his stomach.
    Axl turned yet another corner and spotted a familiar white wolf sitting atop a parked Harley Danielson motorcycle with a lit cigarette in his hand, leaning forward with his arms draped over the handles. Axl approached the man, who glanced up at him and whose glowing yellow eyes widened in recognition of the lizard.
    “Axl,” Shane grunted curtly. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

    Axl sneered at Shane disapprovingly, a feeling of indignation stewing within him. “Hardly a ‘pleasure’, considering you attacked my bandmate the other night.”
    Shane looked up at Axl unheedingly and inimically blew a puff of smoke into his face, causing him to cough softly. “I believe it was Rolf who threw the first punch.”
    Axl scoffed, wafting away the smoke with his hand. “OK, yeah, but you didn’t exactly help the situation.”
    All of a sudden, Shane let out a heavy sigh and spoke once more, his tone now precipitously low, almost as if he were ashamed. “I know. Look, if you see him, tell him I’m sorry, will ya?”
    Axl furrowed his brow, taken aback by the wolf’s sudden change in demeanor. “You can tell him yersssself,” he hissed. “He’s sitting outside that stupid distribution office right now, cursing the skies.”
    “I take it your meeting didn’t go too well?” Shane asked, smirking.
    Axl frowned in puzzlement. “How do you know we had a meeting there?”
    “Word of mouth,” Shane replied casually with a shrug.
    Axl sighed. “Nah, it didn’t go so well; we’ve paid a visit to every distributor in Beach City and every single one of them have turned up down. “I don’t understand… why do all the distributors hate us all of a sudden? I mean, we’re the Nightriders, for cryin’ out loud!”
    Shane stared inattentively ahead, taking another draw from his cigarette. “Beats me,” he said monotonously.
    Axl released another sigh, drooping his shoulders. “Listen… I’ll tell Rolf you said sorry, OK?”
    “Thanks,” Shane grunted. “I would do it myself, but I don’t think he’d be too happy to see my face after what happened.”
    “I getcha,” Axl muttered.
    Shane turned back to face Axl, a look of contrite on his face. “I don’t want there to be any bad blood between us, Axl. I’m just here so I can make music, that’s all. I don’t wanna spark any sort of rivalry with ya.”

    “Hey,” Axl said, smiling softly and placing a hand on Shane’s shoulder. “No worries, bro. I ain’t got nothin’ against ya, and I never will. You’re cool in my book, Shane.”
    Axl managed to catch a glimpse of a smile flashing on Shane’s snout, before he kicked up the motorcycle’s footrest and ignited the engine. The motorcycle rumbled to life and began to growl softly as Shane remained in position, still facing Axl.
    “Thanks, buddy.”
    Shane held out a closed fist and the two exchanged a cordial fistbump before Shane revved up the engine and sped off into the night, his long white hair billowing out behind him. Shane glanced back at Axl over his shoulder as he sped away, before turning back to face the road, a look of disgust etched into his face.
    “Freak.”

Illustration by mattieguy95

Thanks for reading!

A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing (Part 5):

A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing (Prologue):

The Dreamcatchers belong to ShaneWolfrik
The Nightriders belong to AxlReigns