Author's Note: Forgive me if the accent type is hard to read, I tried. <3 Also, forgive me for grammar errors, typoes, etc., Word doesnt always catch everything. ;D

In the hustle and bustle of Times Square, 1921, faces whizz past you. So many different features, cultures; but in reality all the same, all trying to get somewhere in the sea of flesh. There are two faces that stick out today, the high class second generation Russian family of Sevastian and Iovilla Dmitriev, clutching the leash of Nicolai, their prized Siberian Husky, pushing past person by person to make it to their destination.

The tall, well-kept building looming before them was obviously one of another wealthy family. There was what looked like red roses or carnations blooming beautifully in the warmth of the late spring sun, mounted on their pedestals outside of every pristine glass window. Sevastian looked at his wife, held out a hand and rapped two quick times on the jet black door before him. Nicolai, their beloved pooch, sat at Sevastian’s feet and licked his limp hand, giving a wag of his bushy tail when he was acknowledged. The door made a small clicking sound, and a few seconds later the fashionable owners of the lovely house were in their view. They were Cristofor and Therese Auzenne, a rich French family living in the heartbeat of New York, much like Sevastian and Iovilla themselves. As they stepped inside, they instantly felt at home in the lush and vibrant luxury of the similar family’s house.

A few laughs, and they were down to business. They sat on the set of plush white couches in the living room and settled in to make their pitches. The reality of it all was, Sevastian and his wife answered an ad posted in the newspaper by Cristofor and Therese; and what it all came down to was the gorgeous stack of fur by the name of Nicolai. Nicolai, being in the prime of his life, was perfect breeding material for any family, and Sevastian answered the call. As they began to talk of their deal, an intricate blossom of the two different accents braided through the air, creating an almost musical effect in the vibrance of the house. In the end, Sevastian agreed to breed Nicolai with their purebred Siberian, Estelle, for the small price of 20 dollars, and one of the best male pups for free. Cristofor agrees, and as the two men shake hands, Therese stands and titters out of the room to fetch Estelle. As the female husky gracefully steps into the room, Nicolai’s eyes widen to take in her beauty and poise.

Julian’s first memories were of the blurry faces of his mother, four siblings, and masters. Of being named when they turned but three weeks of age. Julian; his name, as well as a slur of others that turned out to be Fletcher, Afrodille, and Constance. It was a loving atmosphere, one to by admired by any, for Cristofor and Therese loved their dogs dearly, especially Julian. He was their prized of all of the other pups, right on the line with Estelle. And it wasn’t until the week before Sevastian and Iovilla’s arrival to choose the best male pup that they realized Julian may be ripped from their clutches forever. In a flurry of frantic activity, they hid him in a closet with food and water the day before Sevastian and his wife arrived, praying Julian would stay quiet and live with them.

Julian was terrified. The closet was dark and had mouse droppings littering the corners and crevices, evidence of mice occupying the house as well. He huddled up in the corner, shivering and whimpering quietly, wanting his mother’s gray-and-crème fur more than anything else in the world. After what seemed like an eternity, there was movement outside the door; it sounded like the door to the room was opened. A series of footsteps rang in his ears, maybe four people, entering the room just outside of the gloom he was confined in. A bark, it was his mother, and another if a dialect he didn’t quite understand. A strange dog in his house? Julian pricked his ears at this and listened closely. A deep voice with an intricately unfamiliar accent spoke quietly, and Julian listened. “Hello. Thank you for inviting us, friends. Ve vill vork quickly in choosing our prize.” The man spoke, entrancing Julian with this foreign speak. Though, unbeknownst to him, the accent he spoke with was foreign as well.

Another flurry of activity through his barrier, and the sound of silent searching. Julain began to fall asleep, encircled by rodent feces and chill. Suddenly, a violent change in atmosphere rose Julian from his half-state of consciousness, and he huddled in the corner with wide eyes. The casual shuffle of footsteps was quickly replaced with brooding suspicion, and Julian allowed the voices to seep through once more.

“…Not to be bother, but veren’t z’here four pups vhen you called us? V’here is fourth?” The man’s deep voice whirled in his mind again, the different tone almost menacing. Then a male voice Julian recognized. Cristofor.

“Ehh…not zat I recall…?” He said, his apparent nervousness shooting the suspicious atmosphere through the roof.

“V’hell…” The strange accent continued, “I just cannot accept z’is. V’here is fourth puppy? You expect me to take home z’his…ridiculous excuse vor a puppy?” The voice became more and more menacing as the sentence progressed. “You think I am stupid? You think I don’t know you are hiding him?” The man licked his lips. “I demand to see fourth puppy. I v’hill not leave till I have decent puppy to vinish this deal.” The seething voice finished, leaving a tension thick in the house’s atmosphere.

“Sevastian…” Cristofor continued, a quiet pleading in his voice. “I assure you, Fletcher ‘ere is not pathetic. ‘e is assuredly anozzer very good addition to zour family.” A growl and nervous throat clearing filled the silence.

“Z’his puppy is a waste of breath.” The accent growled. “I v’hill not leave till I see fourth puppy.” And with that, after a short hesitation, light footsteps tapped in Julian’s direction, and Julian rejoiced with a happy whimper. The door creaked open, and he found himself swooped up into the arms of Therese.

Julian’s swirling blue, green, and gold eyes widened at the man before him.

He was tall and dark and pale, with striking ice blue eyes and a cold, calculating expression. His apparently lank body was strewn with stringy muscle, shown through his tight-fitted black suit. He held a jet black trench coat in his arms, as well as the leash of the oddly familiar male husky at his feet. The woman beside him was slight and blonde, her auburn eyes darting around the room quickly and dizzily. Her dazzlingly white-blonde hair made his eyes water. Julian’s eyes darted back to the man as his chilly blue eyes roved Julian’s gray, tan, and crimson body. A convulsion rippled from his head to the tip of his tail when the man’s icey eyes locked into Julian’s and remained there for what seemed like an infinity.

“Vhery good. I take z’his puppy v’it me, and ze rest are yours.” The man said simply. Julian looked up at Cristofor, finding his eyes sad and longing as he looked back.

“Yes, o’ course, Sevastian…but…can we…’ave a few minutes an’ say goo’bye? Ve…ve are a little attached to zis vone.” The cold man thought for a moment, finally shrugging and making his way to the door handle. “Z’hat is fine by me…but no more trick, ya?” The man, Sevastian, turned the doorknob and exited the room, his blonde shadow right on his heels.

The next thing Julian registered, he was being patted and stroked and cuddled by his masters, and he watched as tears rolled down Therese’s face. He was confused what could possibly be happening that made this house go from supercharged to gloomy? Next thing, he was set down next to his mother, and he was happy to finally be able to cuddle up in Estelle’s thick fur. Then even more confusion when he was ripped away from his mother and cradled carefully toward the door. He managed to peek through the crook of Therese’s arm, back at his mother and siblings, and the last this he saw of them was the enraged face of his brother, Fletcher.

More confusion, movement, and before he knew it he was being shoved into a little crate and passed into the hands of the scary man and his harried wife. He whimpered and pawed frantically at the bars of the crate, staring halfheartedly at his masters and feeling shaky and scared. He was shoved into a vehicle and the male dog jumped up next to him, and that was the last thing Julian remembered, for he passed out from stress.

When he recovered consciousness, they were inside another huge house, and he was laying on a plush dog bed, in an empty room. Or, so he thought, anyway. A male voice, a dog, spoke with the same menacing accent, but different. It was more caring and smooth. Charismatic.

“Good morning, puppy. I v’has vondering if you vould ever vake again.” A throaty chuckle. Julian watched with wide, ocean-ripple eyes. “Julian, correct?” Julian nodded. “Ah, v’hell, I suppose I should properly introduce myself.” The large husky laughed and looked out of the large window. “I am Nicolai. But, I suppose you vould vant to call me dad.” An involuntary smile spread across Julian’s face, thrilled that he finally got to see his dad. His mother didn’t know much about him; Julian deducted this from the multitude of times he and his siblings asked without answer. He had so much to ask him. But he