The cat was a blue tabby, eyes of luminous turquoise. He wore a similar attire with Rocket—a one piece suit, zipped at the front—but his was colored blue and grey and instead of having a gun holster at the back, he had another zipper attached to it. He relaxed on the branch of the tree like lying on a hammock, hands behind his head and his foot, on top of the other, swayed to an unheard beat. He had a wide grin on his face with wild malice in his eyes.

Rocket directed his gun at the cat, “Who the hell are you?”

The cat didn’t seem to have heard him since he hardly responded. Instead of even just looking at Rocket’s direction, his eyes remained fixed in the skies and he hummed a tune.

“Hey, smug-face,” Rocket called once again, “I’m talking to you.”

Again, the cat didn’t reply. He lifted himself up, like something hoisted him from the chest and stood on his feet on the branch. With a salute sign, he said, “Fire away, Cap’n!”

Rocket squinted, forming a ‘What’ motion of his mouth.

The cat vanished to a cloud of grey smoke and reappeared riding on Rocket’s back. “I said fire…” he whispered on Rocket’s ear and bit it.

Rocket jumped to face his back but the cat had once again vanished into smoke and reformed back on the same branch.

“I want to see how far your big gun can fire,” the cat said from his same spot.

Rocket turned to the location of the cat and aimed his gun, panting. “What the hell are you?”

The cat’s eyes glanced over Rocket and then he disappeared.

“I seem to be a floating head,” the cat reappeared mere inches away from Rocket’s muzzle—nothing but a rotating head.

Out of surprise, Rocket fired a stunning projectile but the cat vaporized before it ever made contact.

“What a fine weapon,” the cat remarked. Now he was standing on air, hands behind his back and admiring the distance the projectile covered.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Taking the chance while the feline was distracted, Rocket shot another stunning projectile but was eluded easily by the peculiar cat.

“Alright enough games,” Rocket yelled and cautiously watched every direction, “I’m not here to fight. I’m just lost and want to get out of here.”

There came no response. Rocket swallowed and kept his gun at aim. In the far distance—with the silhouette of dead trees was the figure of the cat staring into space.

Rocket aimed his gun, “I just need someone to guide me out of this forest,” he yelled and then added in a whisper, “But if you won’t, then I’ll have to force you.”

He fired a stunning shot and it finally hit the feline. The figure that sat on the tree branch fell and Rocket ran to collect his hunt. When he arrived, however, there was nothing there. He scoured the mist, thinking it was just concealed somewhere lying on the ground but there was certainly nothing there.

Two luminescent dots prowled behind him and when Rocket turned, it was already too late. The cat had already pounced from the ground and pushed him off balance. His gun fell out of hand’s reach and the blue cat sat on top of him, metallic claws pressing hard against his chest.

Rocket growled as the cat approached and just like some game, the cat chortled.

“I win,” he purred and got off Rocket, relaxing in the air.

Rocket sat up first, catching his breath, “What the hell was that for?” he sounded mildly annoyed from getting bested by someone else.

“We were playing, were we not?” the cat licked his metal claws, retracted in his paw of flesh. “It feels nice to prowl. I haven’t done that since… actually, I can’t remember.”

“Yeah. Whatever,” Rocket shook his head and got up. Picking up his gun, he placed it on his holster at the back of his suit. “Can you help me out of this forest?”

The cat seemed confused, like it was the most absurd thing ever heard. “Why would you want to leave this magnificent place?” he asked.

Rocket folded his arms, “I don’t know what magnificent means to you but this sure ain’t magnificent to me.”

“Well perhaps because you’re lost,” the cat said, “and lost, wherever that may be, is never a pleasant thing.”

Rocket walked a few steps ahead, peering out in the distance, “It never is a pleasant thing, kid, so will you help me out of this forest or not?”

The cat’s mouth opened, as if he was about to say something but closed it again as his ears perked up, detecting sounds. Rocket moved his ears as well, trying to detect whatever the cat caught but he didn’t receive any sounds.

The cat’s fur bristled and he floated behind Rocket, cowering.

“Is there something wrong?” Rocket asked.

“Shush,” the cat said, “Time to go… find shelter.” Then he evaporated leaving Rocket no explanation whatsoever.

A few moments after, Rocket finally picked something up—heavy marches coming from his west side. He crawled on all fours, behind a dead tree and hid for whatever was coming. And whatever was coming seemed to be an army.