Through the Eyes of the Brain
The Boss finds the warehouse with those eyes of his. They're unsettling when they do their robotic work, getting a shade of red to the pupils. The hat covers it sometimes, but no one sees The Boss from the angles I do. Happens when you're only 2.4 feet off the ground
I won't call him Master like they want. I'm just better than that. He feeds and takes care of me, but it's not like I couldn't find my own food and shelter somewhere else. But it wouldn't be as good. And I wouldn't make the same difference as I am here.
The car comes to a stop outside, a few dozen meters from their line of site. The Boss seems sure we weren't spotted, but he gives me A Look. I nod my fuzzy, naturally blond head and move ahead without him.
For all the gizmos tucked away in that body of his, I sniff around and confirm what a heat scan or a sonar or whatever the hell he uses to find bad guys would. Ten men in there, most of them armed or packing something that would stop a furry friend like me. But don't mind me, boys. Just an ordinary, genetic freak of a dog sniffing your garbage and finding the kidnapping scum inside your hideout.
"What do we have here, Brain?" The Boss asks over my collar. It's nearly mute, but close-range doggy ears can pick up things like that. I give a bark, then another, until I've counted off all the heads in the place. One bark each. It's a code that he thinks I'm smart for figuring out. In truth, I'm smart because I can finish Penny's calculus homework before she could. If I could hold a pen.
"Good boy," The Boss says over the comm. He knows I hate it when he says that. He's seen me roll my eyes. That damn creepy eyes see everything. We have fun, me and my boss. Maybe I'll even get to pop out of the shadows and bite into the Achilles tendon of a thug once we're inside. That's always fun.