The Other Side of the Coin

There was crowding and shouting... It was so loud, but it Johnathan Miller believed in what he was taking part in. "Hey, Jack! Help me with this!" Called a voice nearby, it belonged to a fox who John had met from time to time. He was pushing one of the larger crates toward the edge of the ship. John smirked and ran over to him, both of them managing to lift it off the ground and throw it over the edge of the ship, where it made a loud splash with several other crates. Cries of triumph erupted around him, men hung from the ropes connected to the masts, shaking their fists at the sky. Many threw their hats and called down to the people in the streets. The wolf took off his own hat and he and a nearby Son of Liberty embraced in victory. After some time, people began to disperse, but many of the Sons stayed behind on the pier, drinking and celebrating their victory. They talked of going down in the history books, of being the ones who retaliated against the tyrannical British.

John thought with slight laughter at the fact that only a short while ago, he'd been living in England. It had been nearly two years since he left, coming to America after having lost his job as a journalist for a newspaper. He hopped aboard a ship and came to New England in hopes to make a new life for himself, he'd had little family left in his home country and only a few friends who were sad to see him leave. They'd all tried to keep him there, but he insisted on going out to try something new. He was taken in by the Boston Gazette for his passionate style a few weeks after arriving. He'd quickly fallen in love with the optimism and concepts which the New Englanders had adopted, and he got on board with their ideas of liberty. He didn't think of himself at all as a traitor, and he did not blame the crown for what the wrongful taxation on the Americas, he just believed that it was difficult to fairly govern from so far away in such a manner.

The wolf lifted his bottle of liquor and shouted out, "For liberty!" There were several cries of a similar toast around him as many began to sing songs of triumph, though it was a little difficult to make out, as many of them were drunk.

"Hey, Jack," A familiar voice began, sitting down on a barrel near the wolf. It was the fox from before, Michael. "Some day..." He said tiredly, clinking his bottle to John's, "Do you... Do you really think we can do this? I mean... All of this? To break away from the crown? They have so much, and we have so little..."

"Mike," The wolf started, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder, though he was clearly losing his own balance. "They have the money and the guns, but we've got something they don't. Spirit," He said confidently, a smile on his face. "And I don't just mean this stuff," Johnathan stated jokingly, holding up and shaking his bottle slightly. "If people believe strongly enough in something, they'll take it, and nothing can get in their way. All we need is the drive, and we've got that by the barrel," He stated, taking another swig from his bottle. "Plus, we've got something worth fighting for... To them, this is just a piece of land, for us... this is our home, and we'll take it or happily give our lives trying."

"Hear, hear!" Cried a voice from another circle; a coyote named Donovan. "An' we got twice the brains o' them redcoats too!" He said with a hardy laugh, downing a large drink of his alcohol.

Clearly, he had pulled the short straw tonight. It was cold out and there was an eerie silence. There were the typical sounds of animals running about in the street, no doubt strays, but no shouts of drunk men headed home or women leaving the house to find these men. Rolling his shoulders, Charles started his way toward the taverns and pubs of the city. They were placed along the wharfs so that the visiting captains and their crew would have no need to travel deep into the city just to wet their tongues or find a warm bed of any sort. Alongside him was another British soldier, a wiry lion that had not fully come into his mane yet, as he was only twenty years of age. The closer they got to the piers, the more normal sounds became. He grinned hearing the typical yelling, and nodded to himself. This is the way Boston typically was, no matter how cold the winter nights were. These colonists seemed to be used to it. This was a city much like the English ones they had descended from as far as the weather went.

Walking around the corner with musket in hand, he was loathe to see what exactly all the shouting was about. Even from up the street he could see odd shapes bobbing in the water, and now he could even hear that not all the shouts were english. Had these people somehow allowed Savages to descend upon their town and ravage their most profitable port? Fury brindled inside him as he rushed down toward the port, readying his rifle as he went. He was new to the British Army, but he knew their policies toward any Savage that found itself where it shouldn't be.

When he saw instead that there were colonists walking home with these creatures. Fury toward the savages molded into something knew. Putting his powder horn back into its sling, Charles straightened his posture then began to walk down toward the pier where he could still see a few civilians sitting and laughing. Approaching them, he saw that the odd shapes were actually crates. Considering the latest issues with the Tea Tax and the three ships that had refused to return to England... It was not difficult to put two and two together.

Marching himself onto the dock, he stopped to look back toward his patrol route. He was far off of it now, and his companion, Reginald, was quietly pleading with him to go back to where they had been. Where they should be. Charles paid him little mind, as he was two years the lion's senior, and continued on his way. The drunken songs were grating on his own ears as he strode up to the closest group of people that were clearly planning on remaining on the piers for a bit longer. Catching the last comment, made by some small canine he didn't care to recognize, he scowled and cleared his throat.

"Twice the brains? Dear sir, as long as you are making such witty quips, you might as well go with something more believable. Why not four times the brains? Hm?" Charles snapped, his arms folded over his chest. "What is the meaning of all this? Why are you all out at such an indecent hour? Being drunk in public at that. I do believe I'll have to take you lot in."

Reginald was still reluctant to follow Charles, and winced when he began to mock the men who were clearly having a good time after having destroyed so much of the King's property. With Charles so confident; though, he saw no reason not to join in the fun. "Oh, aye! All this destruction innit right either! Come on, chaps, it's time for you to come with us I'll be thinkin'." The lion's accent was thicker than Charles', and his hands more twitchy toward where the iron manacles were hanging at his hip.

Johnathan gave a hardy laugh and pushed himself off of his barrel, wrapping an arm around Don's shoulder. Among his own group of friends, he was rather well-known and popular, but otherwise he wasn't well-known. His articles in the Boston Gazette weren't legendary, but they were at least good enough to put food on the table and allow him to do what he loved. However, in the middle of their joking, Jack looked out to see an approaching pair of English soldiers, and he grinned largely, raising an eyebrow at them. "Oy! We've got ourselves a redcoat with some humour, boys!" He cried out, laughing, "To what do I owe this honour, sir?" The wolf asked sarcastically, taking a teasing bow before turning to his friend, twisting his face into something stern and scrunched up. "I do believe I have to take you in," He taunted, mocking the redcoat before facing him again and coming inches from his face.

"Well I do believe it's time for you to scamper on out of 'ere, sir." He started somewhat venemously, "Or are you going to shoot me like your brothers did our men? Oy! I can see it now, the papers will read," The wolf put an arm around the soldier's shoulder and held up a hand, waving it as though the headline were in front of them while he spoke, "Redcoats recklessly take more lives!" Johnathan laughed again as Michael put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him away, they were two of the more sober in the group at the moment and he spoke quietly.

"C'mon, Jacky, let's just go... we don't want ta create more issues," He coaxed, jerking his head. The others seemed to be in agreement, even the less sober ones. Michael looked at the officers, "We'll just be going now," He said, clearly deciding to fight another day. Being stupid wasn't going to help the revolution at all, but John stayed behind, shaking his head and waving his friend away.

"Go ahead," He said before letting go of the redcoat and putting a hand in his pocket. "Indecent hour? You have no right to tell me when to go home, gentlemen," He informed them blankly, looking to the lion for a moment, smirking at him. Hope you've enjoyed your ride on the bandwagon, he thought while crossing his arms. However, now that he was alone and his gaze moved back to the wolf, he noticed something familiar, but he couldn't tell beyond the uniform. Regardless, Johnathan raised his brows in interest at the men, squaring off with the wolf-soldier, "I suggest you tell your friend to put his irons away, he's a little too ready to be arrestin' us colonists... He'll only create more issues with the crown," He spoke. Of course, he knew that he was dancing on a thin line... His willingness to do so is why he lost his job in England, he was often very rebellious and opinionated.

"Plus, shouldn't you two be doing your rounds? I don't believe you have a patrol over here," He said, his brow furrowed. After the event of the day, he wouldn't be surprised if a few guards had been dispatched to clear up all of the loiterers, but it had taken quite a while to get in trouble for it. As he sized up the wolf before him, he couldn't get over the nagging feeling in the back of his head... He hadn't seen his friends from England in two years, but he'd written a few of them, though it had been a few months since he'd sent or received anything from a courier, so he figured that they had all just grown apart... Something about this wolf, though, was so familiar... The coat and hat were throwing him off though. He was still wearing his tri-corner hat , and his ears poked up between the folds, but they were pushed back slightly as he stood at about the same height as the wolf before him, his gaze tight and focused. There was also still a liquor bottle in one of his hands, but he wasn't drinking from it.

Shaking his head, Charles looked at the buzzed wolf rather disapprovingly. He held completely still as the other male mocked and teased him. He wasn't going to rise at the simple statements, nor was he about to do what he wanted. The physical contact made him stiffen and his hackles begin to rise. This was crossing lines that were there for a reason. Of course, out of all the people he could have run into, he ran into the people who believed it was his and his brother's fault that the Boston "Massacre" had ever taken place. He too had lost people, but of course that didn't seem to matter at all. No. They were the demons.

The wolf just continued his rants and complaints, and Charles was growing tired of it already. He put an arm out to keep Reginald from leaping at the man. "He's not worth it, Reg." He muttered, starting to turn around back toward the way they had come. "I'm sure he'll manage to annoy someone else and find himself wishing he had taken up our offer." With that, he was about to leave the pier and the men until heard the man comment on where he should and should not be. His insolence was more annoying than offending, and he would not have it.

"Sir, you have no right to say where I should and should not be. We have rounds across the city, as I'm sure you're well aware. I will say this once more. Please return to your home and refrain from being drunk on public property. What you do in your own home is none of my concern, so do remove yourself from the premises."

Reginald was grinning like a fool and standing up as straight as he could with his chest puffed out. He was proud to have a partner that was so true to the rules and by-the-book. This time he kept from chiming in with his own "orders", and instead simply folded his arms across his chest, his hands now far from the chains. Charles was relieved to see he had cooled down and gave a crooked grin. Perhaps tonight wouldn't end in arms after all. "Your friend knows what he's talking about." With a nod toward the fox, he started to usher his own friend back toward the proper patrol route. He wasn't a male who enjoyed conflict, rather one who liked things to be just so.

Johnathan pulled away from his friend and shook his head, staring at the redcoats in front of him. He looked to the young lion and narrowed his eyes, "You sure are a tough guy," He said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. John ran a hand through the fur on top of his head and crossed his arms over his chest, huffing and looking up and down the figure of the black wolf before him. It was almost a ritual he had at any time he was stumped for words or awkwardly silent. However, he was also trying to figure out the wolf before him... it almost reminded him of one of the men he had known in England those years ago... It had been two years, and both of them had grown, but they were also very similar sizes, so the rebel couldn't help but wonder... However, that crooked smile hit him hard, as did the way in which he tried to usher his fellow patrolman back to their route. He almost made a snap about how he was right, and they were breaking away from their route, he realized...

"Charles?!" The wolf asked in complete surprise.

"Hey, Jack, you alright?" Asked Michael, who was on his way out with their friends.

"Y-yeah, you guys go on, I'll see you in a few days, alright?" John called after them, getting a skeptical affirmative in response. His eyes turned back to the black wolf, "Charles, is that really you?" The rebel asked. His friend, Charles, had been a year older than him, but always very by-the-book. He was a rule-follower, and the two balanced each other out. When they were young, as their parents were friends, Charlie had always watched out for Jack, being the cautious one. He could stop the wolf whenever things seemed to get out of hand, like an older brother, it seemed like he could fix anything. John, on the other hand, happily gave Charlie his share of experiences and fun in life, at least some excitement.

As the wolf stared on in disbelief, he was dumbstruck, not even paying attention to Reginald. For some reason, he was sure that this was his childhood friend... In fact, Charlie had ushered John into writing, encouraged him to at least try to get a job with the paper in their town, and it worked for a while, at which point he'd become confident enough to try elsewhere, in America.

Charles spun around when he heard his name called, but was quite frankly shocked when he realized that it was the wolf that had called after him. He looked to Reginald for a moment then gently pushed on his back. "Head on back, Reg. I'll catch up." He muttered, giving the younger feline a stern glance before sighing and turning to face Johnathan. He folded his arms across his chest then leaned most of his weight onto one paw, eyeing the other wolf carefully. He had wondered if he remembered this man from anything, but for some reason he just couldn't believe it. After all, this wolf was an American. He didn't know any Americans.

"My name is Charles, but no one calls me that. I'm Lance Sergeant Cooper to most." He said simply, looking at the other wolf critically. More and more he believed that he knew this fellow, but he couldn't place where. When the male started to muss with his own fur, Charles narrowed his eyes and tried again to place him. When finally it clicked on who it was he was talking to, he started to laugh. He didn't stop for two solid minute, and at the end he had to suck in a deep breath and rub his chest, careful not to mess up his uniform too much.

"Of course! Of course it would be you, Johnathan! Who else would decide to cause so much damage and then mouth off?" That statment shocked him back to reality, and he scowled before grabbing the younger wolf's shoulder. He directed him toward a back alley and dropped his voice to as low as it could be while still being audible. "You're joking, aren't you? Tell me, tell me you were not appart of what just happened." He hissed, locking his gaze with Jack's. He paused after a moment then started to laugh again, shaking his head. "You know what? Never mind. I simply never saw you. I never saw you near the docks, I never even saw you period. Private Reginald and I never even left our rout."

This was far from the first time that Johnathan had gotten himself into so much trouble. This was also far from the first time that Charles had found himself keeping his best friend out of it. The wolf needed to get himself home unless he wanted to find himself in jail due to someone else, not someone that had a desire to take care of him. He adjusted the thick gloves on his forepaws then adjusted his uniform and hat. This wasn't unlike when Johnathan had gone ahead and taken a bag of roasted chestnuts and a jug of eggnog for the homeless orphans. It was a kind idea, his heart was in the right place, but it hadn't stopped the bobbies from coming after him. When Charles was able to distract them by nearly getting himself run over by a carriage, his friend had been able to get away. This time, the black wolf didn't want to have to put himself in such a situation.

"Just go home, Johnny. Go home and sleep off the booze. Go to work in the morning and try to keep yourself by the law for me." He turned to leave the alley, standing up as straight as he could. He was a soldier in the British Army, not an errant teenager anymore.

The wolf was still slightly shocked, furrowing his brow at the comment about being a Lance Sergeant. He did smile slightly at his friend's success in the military... Of course Charles would join the army. Not because he was a violent or dangerous man, but because he was cautious and liked uniformity and routine. Jack let the other wolf walk him into an alley and opened his mouth as the soldier pleaded for him to not be a part of it. "Actually, I tossed one of the biggest cra-" He started before being cut off and laughing slightly. Charles... See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil... as always... However, as much as he loved Charles, he didn't like the feeling of being chided, and crossed his arms. If there was one thing that everybody knew about Johnathan, it was that if you told him not to do something, that thing became priority number one.

He looked to his best friend, unable to comprehend the bittersweetness of meeting him under such circumstances... "I'm not a kid anymore, Charlie," He spoke determinedly as his friend began to walk out of the alley, trying to stop him. "I... I know you won't get this, but... since we were little, you know I've always been a troublemaker, but this runs deeper than that... I feel so... I don't know, but... This is real, not something I'm just doing to go against anyone, but because I truly believe in it..." He explained, his fists at his sides, "Don't treat me as though I'm some infant, Charles. You've always been there for me, and I understand that you're part of the British Army now, but... You cannot ask me to give up all that I believe in, for I have not asked you to hang up your coat," He spoke with determination... his voice oozed passion and love for his endeavour.

His gaze turned to the floor, "Y-y'know... I found a job writing out here... And even better than that, they don't can me or fire me for my beliefs, so long as I'm writing it well and people care about it..." He said, looking up to his old friend, "And my columns are even well-received... I... I'd hoped for a very long time you would come to America, so that I could show you how life was made here, how I've made a life here... But what? All you care about is keeping everything in a line... What happened..? I mean... what made you into a machine..? I've only been gone for two years... And now this? Not a 'how are you, Johnathan?!'" The wolf's gaze narrowed and he crossed his arms after readjusting his hat, "Just... just go..." He said, shaking his head and staring at the ground in defeat...

He finally got a chance to talk to Charles again... and this was all that the man had to say to him? It was crippling and cold-hearted... He turned his back and faced down the alleyway, not looking at his "friend." He was unable to bear the sight of the wolf anymore... What had once been a brotherly face and a welcoming experience left him with nothing but emptiness and loss... Their entire childhoods together meant nothing...

Seeing Johnathan all fired up was nothing new to Charles. In fact, it made him feel more at home and comforted than anything else the other wolf could have done. Grinning to himself, he turned around and leaned against the wall of the alley with his arms crossed against his chest. He nodded every so often, but his smug smile began to fall as the male continued. He sighed and let his head fall slightly as he adjusted his own hat, mostly to keep the cold off his ears as the wind was blowing again. He had a cloak, but it wasn't quite enough to keep out the biting cold. He had no doubt that soon there would be a snow storm. The idea made him scowl as he looked up toward his friend again.

He was silent as John finished his rant, then cleared his throat. "How are you Jonathan?" He asked simply, the crooked grin on his muzzle again. Tormenting his friend was always easy. He left himself open every so often. In all honesty, Charles had seen the articles of one week's worth of newspapers. He himself had only been here for about a month and a half. He hadn't been around long enough to engross himself in the city's culture and happenings. He was just trying to get used to the rules before he started to bend them. He had been reminded of his friend just the other day, as he read a newspaper that reminded him of his best friend's writings.

"Johnny, brother..." He started after a second of silence, not giving the man a chance to answer. "You know... Why don't you walk with me back to my patrol? Tell me about the city. I'm far too new to the area to know much. Certainly not as much as you do. I'll even give you this to gloat about - you were right. I was off my assigned patrol rout. Now, will you forgive my callousness and simply give me some company? Reginald is even more new than I am. He just is concerned about not getting lost. I wouldn't be surprised if he was lost right now."

The thought of the lion made him grin for a moment. He was very new. He had been sent to replace a soldier that had passed two months ago from a nasty bout with some chest inflammation. No one had a name for it just yet. There were whispers of it being the plague, but that was soon shut down. Instead the medic had labeled it as pneumonia and sent the body back to Britain at the end of the week. Charles himself was a replacement for a man that had been disposed of by another disease which people did not care to name, as they saw it as near a curse to use such a word.

Charles the comedian... John shook his head, crossing his arms and not turning around. "Oh, I'm just dandy... See my best friend for the first time in two years and all he cares to do is tell me to sleep off a few swigs of my brandy and to avoid the guard... Like I don't know the rules..." He muttered, his brow still furrowed and his voice blank, though still somewhat malicious. Jack had a heart that flowed with as much sensitivity as it did passion. When he believed in something, he believed with everything he had, and fought for it, but being mocked... it drove him insane. The only person who ever actually got away with taking jabs that were so personal or mocking was Charles. The wolf shrugged as his friend asked to take a walk before nodding faintly and obliging his friend.

Johnathan put his hands in the pockets of his vest as they walked, though he didn't have much to say. It took a few moments before he looked over to the redcoat beside him, "You know, Charles, I care a lot about this... You know I've put my name behind a lot of things, but I'm serious about this... After two years here, I've seen so much culture, so many people who want change and know how to do it, people who know what they want... This city, it just flows with what I'm sure will be history some day... These are the first steps to a change throughout the entire world..." The wolf said wistfully, looking ahead and sighing. He'd always been optimistic, that was true, but he'd also had this uncanny ability to picture the future. Not as in foresight, but more like thinking long-term, to see the consequences of things. Oftentimes, he didn't care about what the consequences were against him if his actions helped him to achieve the goal of whatever he was supporting, but he preferred to see how his results impacted a larger picture. The wolf had a real martyr complex, it was almost scary the kind of danger he was willing to put himself in so long as it helped somehow.

"After two years, Charles, don't you think I'd have seen enough to take a side? I've seen and written countless pieces about the dividing class lines in our own colonies... In England, it was difficult to notice, because we didn't care as much, but here... It's... It's so blatantly obvious... Here it's like... we're all just people... The wealthy may have it better off, but that doesn't mean they deserve the power or the authority to tell the lower classes what to do... How to live... It's their job to help take care of the hardships in society... It's truly amazing, Charles, if you just watch the people... The way we all interact... There are still issues and altercations as there are anywhere, but here it's different... I don't know, but... I just feel like what we're doing here is right, and that the rest of the world, one day, will see it too..." Jack had a look in his eyes that was sincere, he felt so strongly about what he was saying and it was easy to tell. "It's not that we want to fight or have bloodshed, but... With all that the mainland is doing to us, we can't just sit back and let it happen... We can't let the very thing that tore England apart do the same to us... This taxation is out of hand, and because it's growing at this rate, it will only make the poor become poorer and the rich become richer..."

The man looked down and back over to his friend again, letting out a breath, "And I know you were off your route..." He looked over with a small smirk on his face, "You clearly didn't know where you were going, Charles," The wolf said, softly pushing his friend, slowly recuperating from his ego taking a hit. ... Reginald? That's the lion's name? My god, the poor chap... I think I had a name like that, I would simply loathe my own parents," He said with a small laugh, shaking his head.

"Johnny, if I thought you knew the rules then I do believe you would have found yourself left by me long ago." Char chuckled, adjusting his shirt-cuffs and hat. True, it had been two years, but had Johnathan expected him to change so much? No. He was still the same as he was. It would seem that his nature had even been embellished by his employment by the British Army. Grinning to himself he watched Johnathan go through some secret thought process. During that time, instead of reminiscing on his past with the other male, he was going through where his partner was. He was brought back to the present reality with his friend started to talk again.

Standing a bit straighter, the darker wolf adjusted his hat again and gave a small grin. "Social classes? Is that why you dumped all the tea in the harbor? Tea is everyone's drink, Jack. Everyone can drink it no matter of money or prestige. Is that not why you fight?" He laughed, trying to keep the matter lighthearted. He had no desire to fight with his friend of so many years. It was difficult to keep Johnathan in a good mood, though. He would take anything as a slight when he was impassioned by his latest cause. Charlie wished that things were different sometimes. As Jack's passion knew no bounds, he would find himself in dangerous territory too often for the other wolf's taste. He couldn't be around the whole day, and when Jack was still in England it caused the taller male endless anxiety.

"You can't protect everyone, Jack. How many times have I had to tell you that? I know you dislike it, i know it hurts you, but it's not avoidable. No matter where you go, this will happen. If you think that this... colony will truly be any different than England for long then I do believe you're delusional. Two generations of this dream of yours... And what? Is that worth your life? So that your children's children will watch their own flesh and blood suffer? No. Jack, think things through for once in your life. Things are not going to remain this way forever. There are other ways to manage what... grievances you have. Why do you not pursuse those first?"

It seemed that not longer after he had said that, Jack was off on a tangent. Grinning, Char started to walk out of the alley for hopefully the last time. Hopefully he knew his way back to the route, as already Boston was a huge city he could get lost in far too easily. Hearing Johnathan make a joke about Reginald's name, he shrugged while still walking away. "I may not have been around him for very long... But lately I've been thinking of naming my second son after him. Whenever it is I get married, that is."

He near jogged back to his station, and was relieved when he found Reginald after only a few moments of searching the route they had been giving. If Johnathan chose to follow them he wouldn't turn him away. He would find him at some point around the city he knew. If nothing else, he knew what a few of the wolf's friends look like. He would find someone that knew Johnathan. After two years of being apart, he wouldn't simply let him walk away again. Once was bad enough in Char's mind.