The apartment was the same mess as it always was. Carmen sat near the building with nothing but her wheelchair and a jacket. I punched in Morse code through my transceiver before talking with the old lady.
“Fancy meeting you here out of all days,” I said.
“Now, isn’t this a pleasant surprise to see the catboy this early?” Carmen said.
I told her about my time with the garden, about the monstrous plants. I spoke about how trivial the flytraps were. We then went through more mundane topics. I asked about the lack of difficult tasks.
The old lady rubbed her chin, “Normally I would think up something, but my noggin’s coming in empty. You did anything and everything that needed helpin’. I’m afraid that there’s nothing left for ya.”
“Are you insinuating that there’s nothing left? There certainly has to be something,” I challenged her.
“Don’t sass me, boy!” She waved her cane, “A tongue like that could earn ya a beatin’ if ya not careful!” She exclaimed, then calmed down, “Yes, that’s what I’m sayin’. Unless you considered pruning along with whackin’ weeds. We appreciate what you have done, but we don’t get you to do the mundane. You don’t get a sledgehammer to hammer in a nail either. Making sense to ya, boy?”
“No… You’re making sense to me,” I said after deliberation
“I meant that you worked when nobody would. Take the day off, rest for a while, enjoy the sights. You don’t have to worry about everyone's hassle..”
My head spun in multiple directions. I haven’t fully trusted her since the moment back to the pub. What did she know what a hassle was? I was an operative, my duty was for other people.
Who was Carmen to pry into my life?
My face puffed up in displeasure. I crossed my arms while I looked away from the old lady. Carmen got the message. She wheeled herself back inside the apartment.
Take a break, they say. It’ll be fun — they say. Well, I’m not understanding the fun part.
My mind was a mess of thoughts. I stomped around the main square to clear my hand.
“Are you still sulking, Catboy?” Lyle asked.
“I'm not sulking!” I exclaimed. “And shouldn't you keep your mouth shut, and minding your own business?”
The autumn breeze brushed past us yet again. Unlike others, the cold breeze felt gentle. The distance between them was the same.
“This is my business,” he said. “Any assumption I could make about you, that’s none of my business. You’ve been on edge since you got here.”
“Am I on edge?” I asked.
“Yes, you are,” his words cut through all those feelings that were building up.
A strange clarity washed over me, “Lyle, say that again.”
“I noticed that you are on edge?”
“For once, what you made sense, and all you said was another judgment. Yes, there is a touch of forbidden out there,” I rubbed my chin. “We should go back soon, but not to rest! I should have a strategic meeting… I could bring Thousand Cuts along. We both can have fish.”
“Mekiko, you’re acting hysterical,” he grabbed my shoulder before letting go.
I shoved him aside, “Don’t bother, I’m not listening,” I told him. “No, no, no,” I repeated. “You’re not coming anyway — although I can make due with Donovan. Have him bring a laser pointer along, for focus purposes of course.”
“Mekiko, can you listen to me for once?”
“For what, so that you can call me a cat again? Life is one problem after another. I had it easy for far too long. Something is going to blindside me when I am paying the least attention.”
“Fine, we can go back, but first, I have to go out and refill my canister.”
“Yeah, and what for?” I pointed at his chest, “I did not at all see you take a sip.”
“I forgot to fill my container up on the way there. I’ll be quick.”
“And I say that you’re lying.”
“You can never trust me,” he left without a word.
I reached out my hand towards Lyle, but I stopped. Whatever he was doing didn’t concern me. My tail distracted me from worrying. It consistently thrashed.
Previously I heard Lyle clearly. Now the main square was a mess of noise. A place of cobblestone, it was located near the train station. They gathered on the outside of a station. A man stood tall. A milkcrate perched him up.
“And to the ones at the top of the emperor, the one percent,” he yelled. The speaker scanned the crowd before placing his eyes on me. “They don’t care about Snakewater!”
Snakewater deserves better, I was lost in thought.
He continued, “The bourgeoisie would try to deceive you, and for what? Not to avoid hardships, or to break even in that case. Because they’re afraid of being seen as less rich. You there,” he pointed at me.
“You’re making demands of me?” I asked. The speaker looked at me up and down.
“A male Imperial nyancan, folks,” he seethed. “What, betraying your own kind wasn’t enough for you? You also have to be a lap dog for our oligarch friends.”
Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.
“You have the gall to say those slanderous remarks to my face,” I challenged.
“Glady,” he stepped down from his crate. “You are a treasonist beastkin, a class traitor who betrayed his own kin to become part of the oligarchs.”
“What have you done?” I went forward.
“This question has no bearing on our argument.”
“Really? Because all that I see is a man bitching and moaning about slights that have nothing to do with him. I blew up a cretin’s nest and saved an orphanage from financial ruin.”
There were some murmurs. The man spoke up, “do you really believe his lies? Don’t listen to his misinformation, people. This is how the ruling class keeps in power. By dividing us with deceit and disinformation.”
“Ask anyone here, and you would have got your answer within 30 seconds. But no, you rather parrot a manifesto to lecture us with your best high school interpretation. But I expect less from someone who can't tell a guard between an operative.”
“You are up to something, you got to be,” he stammered.
“You people are all the same,” I simmered. While I was quiet, everyone else was silent. “Carrying ignorance and generalization like they are a sense of pride. Are you aware of the operatives sacrificed for you to spout nonsense with that stupid red hat? The sacrifices I made? —Of course you don't.”
The speaker growled. He swung a sucker punch. I watched as his fist sailed over.
So slow. The attack was slow, there was no need to dodge.
*Slap*
The man fell over in an instant. I slapped him across the face with my backhand. My hand was faster than his fist. I watched how cold he was out.
So pathetic…
“Guy’s fierce with his tongue; but put some resistance, and he folds,” one of the residents said. “C’mon, I’ve seen enough.”
The people who watched our conversation left. I observed the passed-out speaker. He wasn’t going anywhere. The crowd dispersed.
I wondered what I was going to do with him. The speaker said so many talking points from The Rebellion, but seeing him fight made me reconsider. He was probably nothing more than a Rebellion sympathizer, capturing him provided no useful information.
I stared at him in disgust, “next time, don’t push your luck against a person with a sliver of anima,” I said. “Although this was your smartest move, saying that you finally stopped that trap of yours.”
“Catboy, what did you do?” Lyle asked. He grabbed my arm from behind.
I shoved his hand away. “What did I do?” I scoffed. “What did he do?” I pointed at the passed-out man. “I don’t need to explain myself. Not for a person like you, Lyle.”
I thought about Lyle while I glanced at the man on the ground. Lyle was no different than the sympathizer. Sure, their methods differed. Lyle was much smarter, but there were different aspects to put me down.
Lyle’s disrespect came in the way he said catboy. Everyone else also called me catboy, sure. But nobody used that word to undermine me harder than Lyle, the way that he refused to acknowledge my position.
Lyle was never here by choice.
The sympathizer on the ground made me tempted to kick him.
That was until a man with a mohawk came from the alley. He wore a leather jacket with a cudgel.
“Looks like the degenerates came out to play,” I said. Nobody dresses like that to go out for a stroll. I stepped away from the unconscious man.
Beside the man with the mohawk were 3 other people. 1 had a bandana that covered his face, and the other sharp cheekbones. The last man stood out, but not because he was noticeable; but because he was unnoticeable.
He wore simple rags; a vagrant. He hunched over to below my height.
“Perfectly beautiful…” the vagrant rubbed his hands together.
“Shut it!” the sharp cheekbones smacked the vagrant upside on the head. “Is this the cat that you keep talkin’ bout?”
“This one is aptly aware of the nyancan, Mister,” the vagrant ignored the pain.
“Welly, welly, well,” the mohawk said. “Looks like we found the cat and its cohort. With eyeglasses to hide what a big fraud they are,” he spread his arms out for us to see. “Information worth its weight in gold indeed.
“Are we goin’ to scrap ‘em for valuables, boss?” the bandana said.
“Not yet; how bout we talk with them first?
Everything came together. Of course something was bound to happen when I had it easy for too long. Might as well get this out of the way.
Lyle went towards the forefront, “If you’re going to talk, then talk; or get out of our way,” he clenched his fist.
“Oh, we’re takin’ alright,” the leader said. “I got a proposition for you so that you both could walk out with your lives.”
“Yeah, and I don’t listen to criminals,” Lyle seethed. I sensed that his arms were ready to grab his weapons.
“A feisty one we have here!” The boss spun around before meeting with Lyle’s face. “Don’t worry, we won’t hurt that pretty collar of yours. All you need to give us in return is some — conciliation.”
The bandana laughed, “Yeah, boss give ‘em some of that… Wait,” he leaned in closer to the leader. “Didn't you mean to say reconciliation?”
“No, What I said was reconcilement, you bumbling fool!”
“I heard the boss say reconciliation,” cheekbones added.
Lyle and I watched as the 3 gangsters bickered at one another. They appeared tranced in their little world of ineptitude.
A voice escaped my throat, “great, here I thought we were getting mugged, but instead I’m in a bit; featuring the 3 stooges.”
“Uh, boss,” the bandana interrupted. “What is the cat implying?”
The gang leader smacked the back of his head, “he’s calling us stupid you dolt! Although — you can see that there’s more than just the 3 of us,” he snapped his fingers.
The main square was empty. Destitute as the areas that surrounded Snakewater. Living beings had a way to avoid danger that way. Thugs, ruffians, and hoodlums replaced the once lively square. They held a multitude of weaponry.
The boss pointed, “I’m going to ask you one last time. Would you, or would you not hand over everything you own?”
“Everything I own?” I asked.
“Everything you own,” he repeated.
He wanted all that I owned that had value. The money in my hand, the maps, and the transceiver that Dolores entrusted me with. I recalled the duster and armor that Donovan gave me, more than just granted, it protected me. Then there were the sunglasses that Thousand Cuts personally bought me.
My ears lowered as my fangs were on full display.
“Oh~ is the little cat afraid?” The gang leader asked. “Are you going to meow for us?”
Cheekbones spread his arms, “how about you bring a leash for that collar boy of yours? Put on a show while you’re on it?” Laughter was heard, some of the mobsters seemed unsure.
“Because they are both animals, right boss?” the bandana said. He nudged the leader.
“And… you somehow ruined the joke,” the boss said. He nudged bandana and cheekbones aside.
I wasn’t sure of much, but I was absolutely certain that only with my dead body, they were getting through my belongings.
Lyle met face-to-face, “you want my crowns?” Lyle asked. Long gone was his mocking tone, “alright, here’s everything I got.”
Lyle reached into his duster, he pulled his coins into a fistful. The clumps of metal shattered into the air. Crowns, shillings, and pennies; they flayed the flesh. I watched as the coins pelted the gang leader’s face.
Now Lyle was speaking my language.