"Fuck fuck fuck fuck," Mike muttered, staring at them.

They weren't all the same model. Behind Meela was a taller, blonde Catgirl with much larger breasts, full lips, and long blonde hair. Beside her stood another about midway in height between the other two. Her hair was shorter and dark, but she had a figure just as amazing as the other two.

Seventy or eighty million credits right there. Easy. Maybe more.

The question was how to get them out of here. The police were basically on top of him.

Meela let go of him and dropped lightly to the floor of the truck.

"Is there a problem master?" she said. "You look worried."

Think fast or lose.

"Meela, how fast can we activate those two? This is an emergency. Right now if you can."

He was already prepping to carry one of them if he needed to. Though the ease with which Meela had shredded the shipping container probably meant she could probably carry both of them. But if there was an easy way to get them to come on their own they'd go faster and attract less attention.

Meela's little face scrunched up with a serious look.

"Working," she said in a much more neutral tone than the voice she'd used with him up until now.

Suddenly she whipped around and jumped towards the two motionless catgirls and stuck her fingers somewhere into their midriffs. They were all wearing factory-standard blue one piece outfits, but she ripped open a little panel in their clothes and did something that involved poking and twisting her fingers, apparently inside them.

Both of their eyes sprung open at the same moment, and swivelled around to meet his.

"Master Mike," said the dark-haired one with a demure smile.

"Master Mike! I'm so happy to see you!" said the other. She sounded even happier than Meela. They both moved forward as if to embrace him.

Meela was already on top of it.

"There has been an incident, and this an emergency. Listen to Master Mike and do as he says. Greet him properly later."

All three of them turned to him, their faces serious.

They're waiting for me to tell them what to do.

What do we do?

The police transport was clearly about to land. Flashing red and blue colours shone through the open cargo door, and the siren wound down to silence with a final loud bleep.

Mike looked at the three of them.

"I'm going to talk to the police. When you hear me talking to them I'll be trying to get them to face away from the truck. When they're not looking run as quickly as you can to the building across the street. Door says 1723 over it. Go inside and wait for me. Be as quiet as you can."

"Yes master," said Meela. The other two nodded seriously.

Oh shit.

He turned back to them before he jumped out of the truck.

"Turn off your network access. Don't turn it back on again until I tell you. Don't accept any priority interrupts. You are not to communicate online, got it? Total silence."

"As you say, Master Mike," said the one with the shorter dark hair.

He jumped down to the ground, quickly hitting a key combo on his ID and shoving it back into his pocket before he rounded the side of the transport. He dropped the truck's ruined firmware modules onto the concrete as well.

"Excuse me, officers?" he said loudly but in a carefully inquiring tone, and moved around the edge of the truck with his hands up in the air.

"Stand still!" said a harsh voice. "Keep your hands where I can see them."

Two police, both with weapons drawn. It was probably overkill for the Burbs, which was rarely actually violent. But the scattered remains of the truck's contents made it clear what had already gone on here, and he couldn't blame them for being nervous.

He waved the hand with his ID in it.

"I'm not a looter sir, I'm a minister. I was looking for anyone who might have been hurt."

He'd paid dearly for the false credentials, on the theory that Men of God were less likely to provoke instant suspicion. Now he had a chance to test it out, even though it would mean burning the identity data once he was done.

If anything justifies the cost, then this is it.

"Stand still," the police officer said, a little more softly this time, and lowered his weapon. He walked over to Mike, but the other cop kept his gun level and at the ready.

"I haven't found anyone, so that you know," he said to the officer as calmly as he could. "They all scattered a few moments before you arrived."

The policeman nodded, took his ID, and scanned it.

Now we find out if it was worth ten thousand credits.

The thing wouldn't stand up to a deep records scan, but it was supposed to get him past a basic police stop. He watched as calmly as he could while they waited for the police department computers to grind their way through the job. Eventually the screen lit up green, and the cop passed him his ID back.

"Okay, thank you sir," he said gruffly. "You probably shouldn't stick around here though. The DynCorp guys get twitchy in situations like this. It's bad PR."

He was being dismissed too quickly. He needed to get them to turn around so that the catgirls could make a break for it.

"May I check up by the cab of the truck?" he said meekly. "I hadn't yet had a chance to do a walk around. Wanted to make sure..."

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

He'd started walking towards the cop car, hoping to draw their attention, but they were having none of it.

The cop put an arm on his shoulder.

"No sir, I'm going to need you to vacate this area. I promise you we'll take a good look around. If anyone is hurt we'll call in for help."

Fuck.

Three figures were running across the street, directly behind the police car and the second officer. They were dead silent, and crouched down, but all three of their tails wagged back and forth crazily as they sprinted towards the apartment lobby.

All he needs to do is glance over there one time.

Mike put his hand to his chest and stumbled, dropping to his knees.

"Sir!"

The cop holstered his weapon and reached down to grab Mike's arm.

"Are you alright? Maybe we should call you an ambulance?"

Mike waved his hand and did his best to look out of breath, all the while trying to see where the second cop was looking. It seemed to be at him.

"Apologies, officer. I'm fine, really. I have low blood pressure spells sometimes. Running out here at night, everyone in a panic – I just need to go upstairs and lie down for a while."

"Are you sure? I don't want to..."

Mike pushed himself back up to his feet.

"Please don't worry, I'm used to it. I'm due for a doctor's visit tomorrow anyway. Thank you for your concern."

The policeman seemed worried – or at least the one with Mike did. The other one had holstered his weapon as well and was starting to prowl around looking suspicious.

Time to get inside. I hope they have enough sense to stay hidden.

He thanked them again profusely and apologized for wasting their time, then scuttled back towards home as fast as he could go without looking like he wanted to break into a run.

As he got to the door he finally stopped pushing the fob button that he'd had palmed since the moment he jumped out of the truck. Fortunately the buzzing of the door being unlocked wasn't terribly loud. He yanked it open and went into the lobby expecting the worst.

Everybody had seen Catgirls, of course. Not in person naturally, but they were iconic companions of billionaires in shows. There was no way they could be inconspicuous, especially in the Burbs. Exactly everyone would know how expensive they were.

He could hardly blame them for making a grab for his find. It would be like finding a pile of gold someone had just dropped in the lobby and walked away from. Nobody's fault but the owners.

So he wasn't totally surprised to find the lobby completely empty. Not a sign of anyone in the big cold room with a ratty couch next to a plastic plant. They couldn't have gone up the elevator unless they had someone with them.

"God damn it," he muttered, and walked casually over to the elevators in case any suspicious police eyes were still watching from outside.

What was her name?

"Meela!" he whisper-yelled into the empty room while he waited. "Meela! Where are you?"

With a creak the door at the other end of the room opened up. The one to Mrs. Blavatsky's place. The elderly building manager's white hair poked out and her hand beckoned him to come.

Oh, perfect.

Maria Blavatsky must have been ninety years old, but she knew everyone in the building and could spot strangers from a mile off. She had her own line of business too, so she respected comings and goings as long as everyone behaved. The one hundred per month he handed her in cash was a very reasonable security guarantee, and since she had been a technical operator herself some millions of years ago, she could be relied on to ensure that any inconvenient hardware would malfunction by arrangement. She was one of the main reasons The Pines had so many independent operators. As long as you kept her happy, she'd do her best for you as well.

But this was different. The Catgirls were a whole other level of business. She might be old but she was no fool. Mike sighed and went into her apartment feeling like he was being summoned to the Principal's office.

"Michael dear," she grinned at him. "I found your lovely companions waiting for you in the lobby. I thought I'd make them comfortable."

All three of them were standing in a clump together, looking worried.

"We were afraid the police might still see us," Meela said, and the other two nodded.

"There was nowhere else to hide, so when this woman asked us to come in we thought it wise," said the one with the shorter dark hair. Her ears flicked nervously.

"Was that alright, Master Mike?" said the tall blonde one.

They all looked desperately worried. He found himself wanting to pet them and tell them everything was fine. Their big round cat eyes watched him nervously.

"Of course," he smiled. "Maria is a good lady. You couldn't have picked a better thing to do!"

No harm buttering Maria up a bit too, for all the good it's likely to do.

The Catgirls looked very relieved, and the tall blonde on perked up right away.

"I cannot wait any longer. Master Mike, I am Seema, and I'm so happy to see you!"

She nearly jumped across the room at him and wrapped her arms around him tightly, burying her face in his chest. She wasn't quite as tall as him, but it was a near thing. The tip of one of her ears brushed his nose. It smelled like chocolate.

Then she jumped like she'd remembered something, and stood quickly aside.

The last Catgirl, the mid-sized one with shorter dark hair, walked up to him and looked up into his eyes. She was more reserved than the other two, he thought. At least until he realized that there were tears in her eyes. Actual tears.

"Master Mike, I am Reema. I'm... we're all so happy to meet you at last."

She fell into his arms and grabbed his shirt tightly. The tips of her dark brown cat ears had little tufts of fur at the top, he noticed.

I have no idea what I'm supposed to be doing here.

"Girls, thank you so much," he said, and disentangled himself from Reema. When he glanced at Mrs. Blavatsky she had a little smile on her face, but her eyes were sharp.

"I'm happy to meet all of you, too. This is Mrs. Blavatsky, she runs the building. She's very important to all of us."

The girls looked at her warily.

"Call me Maria, dears, all of you. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Meela walked up to her and gave her a formal bow.

"Maria, thank you for keeping us safe for Master Mike. We are in your debt."

Maria laughed and waved her hand.

"Not you dears, not at all. But Mike and I will need to have a little discussion, no?"

Mike nodded glumly.

"I won't keep you away from getting to know one another," she said. "We can talk tomorrow Mike. Is that alright?"

"Of course!" he nodded, trying to look happier than he felt.

"Don't be so distressed dear," she said. "Your secret is safe with me. I can't be getting a bad reputation at my age, can I? Obviously we'll have to come to some arrangement for security and residency, but I know you're a reliable man. I'll trust you to come see me tomorrow some time."

"Yes ma'am," Mike said. He did trust Maria, as much as anyone could. But she would certainly have a pretty good idea of the value of the merchandise he'd managed to grab, too. That many zeroes did things to people.

There was no way the catgirls would understand the subtleties of the conversation, but they had obviously picked up on the tone. They looked wary again.

"It's alright girls, relax," Mike said. "It's just business. We'll take care of it tomorrow."

He gestured towards the door.

"Wait dears, wait," Maria said. "Martin Armstrong and two of his lot are about to exit the elevator."

Mike had often wondered what kind of implants she actually had, and just how much of the building was effectively an extension of her own body at this point. From that perspective it was probably always a given that Mrs. Blavatsky would be a factor in anything that happened with his windfall.

Meanwhile she was rooting in a closet, and came out with three poofy old lady hats.

"Wear these dears, so nobody can see your lovely ears from outside. If you can, you should try to hide your tails as well."

Meela looked at Mike for his approval. He nodded and then couldn't help smirking as they put on the ridiculous hats and wrapped their tails quickly around their waists.

"Perfect!" Maria beamed at them. "Nobody would think there was anything odd about you!"

Mike had serious doubts about that, but when she indicated it was safe to leave, they all headed upstairs.

He trusted Maria, yes. But she'd been giving him a very strange look as they left.