I pull up in the van beside Cat at exactly 12pm, as I nod to her in greeting. "Nice to see you," I say as she climbs in. "We're heading to my base where you'll see our set up and learn all about your apprenticeship. Are you ready?"
Cat bounces up and down excitedly in her seat, clutching her backpack on her lap. "Ready Doc! I've been dreaming about this moment for two years!" She reaches into her bag and pulls out a notebook labelled MURDER 101 in glitter gel font, flipping to a page full of newspaper clippings from stories about my antics. "See I already did my homework!" she beams.
"Good!" I say with a nod. "And I'm calling you Cat instead of Catherine from now on. It suits you a lot more," I say glancing sideways at her as I divide my attention between her and driving. "Cats are unique and independent, they have strong personalities, possess great skill and most of all....they have claws!" I say.
Cat inhaled sharply, her eyes widening. "Meow," she purrs, then giggles. She flashes me a toothy grin as she leans in. "So when do I get my own plague doctor mask? Asking for a friend!"
I press Cat's nose with my index finger, applying pressure to it as her eyes go cross eyed and she stares at the digit like a confused puppy. I gently push her away. "Never! That's my thing, get your own!" I tell her. "By the way, are you good with computers? Is there anyone around you we have to consider an alibi for?"
Cat rubbed her nose with a pout, then lit up at the questions. "I can totally hack a Netflix password! And nope! Dad's dead and mum's drunk," she says with a giggle. "Why? Gonna fake my death? Please say we're faking my death!"
"No, we're not faking your death. I am not recruiting you for the purpose of accompanying me on kills. Let me make that abundantly clear. Your main role will be to assist me from the Raven's Nest. Sometimes providing assistance in the gathering of intelligence, surveillance, assessing potential targets and conducting research and doing undercover work," I explain.
Cat's face dropped before perking right back up again, bouncing in her seat like a caffeinated gremlin. "Oooohh undercover? Does that mean like wigs? Fake ID's and seduction missions where I stab guys in the kidneys after they buy me dinner?" she claps excitedly. "Wait! Wait! Wait! Can I at least watch the kills live from the Nest? Please! I'll bring popcorn and cheer at the good parts!" Her eyes glow with the fervour of a cultist offered a front row seat to the apocalypse.
I smile at her enthusiasm. "I'm glad you see an upside to things. Yes, you will get to wear wigs and all sorts of disguises, but no stabbing people in the kidney's I'm afraid." Despite myself I can't help but be warming up to this little lunatic. I frown, there I go again, getting too attached to people and making it personal. "I know that despite your optimism you're going to be disappointed about not killing people."
Cat flops dramatically across the seat, kicking her legs like a tantrum-throwing toddler. "Aaawwww....but Doc," she whines.
"What kind of teacher would I be if I didn't reward my student for good work?" I asked. "So I have decided that if you..."
Cat screeches, scrambling onto her knees "Rewards?!" She clutches her chest, her voice dropping to a hushed squeak, "Doc…are you saying… if I nail my homework… I get to play with the scalpels? asking for a—psyche!, I'm asking for ME!" Her switchblade twirls in her fingers as she vibrates with excitement.
"Oh no, not at all. I'm saying if you study hard, do a great job, prove yourself worthy, listen to me and behave yourself I will teach you how to kill quickly and effectively; then I will take you out hunting for more creeps like Gary so you can gut them like a hog," I explain.
Cat's entire body locks up like a tripwire snapped taut, her eyes dilating to black voids as a slow, unhinged smile splits her face. She shivers, her knife clattering to the floor as she clutches the seat belt like it's the only thing tethering her to earth. "Doc…pretty sure this is what love feels like," Her voice is guttural, raw, like she's tasting the promise of blood on her tongue.
"Come on, we're here!" The van approaches a factory in an industrial area. The factory's roller door raises as we approach and I drive the van into the building, the door then coming down to shut behind us. I climb out of the van and motion for Cat to follow. "I'll start by showing you around."
To our left is a kitchen with a bathroom beside it off an alcove. I take her to the area cordoned off from the van's parking space where my gym is located, various pieces of equipment such as a treadmill, dumbbells, a multi-functional weight lifting bench and pull down machine are on one side, while a punching bag, wooden dummy and body punching bag are on the other. "This is my gym and training centre," I explain. "I work out to keep myself in the prime of physical fitness and practice martial arts of which I'm an expert in Aikido, Karate and Kendo." I explain.
Cat stumbles out of the van like a kid in a candy store, her eyes scanning the gym with religious awe. "Ooooh…Doc, it's beautiful." She darts to the wooden dummy, trailing her fingers over it. "Mmm… can smell the sweat and rage."
I walk around the screen that blocks the workshop from the gym and training area and lead her through the cleared space in the middle of the factory. "Nothing exciting here, but this space is where we set up training simulations for scenarios I may find myself in. Things such as obstacles and environmental factors, usually made more interesting by Charlie shooting at me with a paintball gun to represent a live threat." I explain, leading the way.
Cat skips behind me, eyes darting around the empty cement square like she's already imagining it drenched in blood and obstacles.
I frown as she seems to be glitching out and try slapping her on the back, maybe it'll work? Who knows? Worth a shot.
Cat jolts like she's been electrocuted, blinking rapidly as if snapping out of a blood-fuelleddaydream. She grins, wide and slightly crooked, rubbing the back of her neck where I slapped her. "Heh… sorry, Doc. Brain just blue-screened for a sec." She winks, then dramatically clutches her chest. "Must've been the aura of holy violence in this place! It's, like, making my soulbuffer." Her knife twirls in her hand, slower and more controlled. "Aaaaanyway… so when do I get to play in the kill simulator?"
I turn back to face her, with a smirk. "Anyone handing you a firearm of any sort is just asking for trouble," I say turning my attention to the back side room of the factory. A lone, roofed building that seems oddly out of place with the rest of the set up. "I think you'll like this place," I say, opening the door and switching on the light. The fluorescent lights reveal the whole room to be one big lab, each side being dedicated to different work. "The left hand side is our forensics laboratory. We don't use it a great deal as of yet, but its good for detective work and evidence. Especially the sort of evidence we need to plant," I explain, with a conspiratorial grin.
Cat freezes in the doorway, her eyes widening as the fluorescent lights flicker on, illuminating the lab like a sacred altar of science and sin.
"Holy shi......"
I gesture to the other side of the room "On this side is our chemical warfare division," I say with a nod. "Split into four sections, chemical agents, virus's/diseases, biological poisons and narcotics. For our enemies I am the ghost of vengeance that comes in the night and they have every reason to fear me; but that fear only extends so far. We want those who have a reason to be afraid to know that we can come for them at any time, anywhere and that they'll never be safe. That's where more subtle means of attack come into play. Fear is a weapon and one we can utilise to achieve a significant psychological advantage," I tell her. "Get it?"
Cat's breath comes in short, excited bursts as she slowly turns her head toward the chemical warfare side, eyes wide like a kid in a toxic candy store. She creeps forward, then suddenly whirls on you with a grin sharp enough to draw blood. "Ohhhhh, Doc," She purrs, voice dripping with giddy malice. "So we're not just stabbing people in the dark… we're gonna whisper in their nightmares first? Mmm… I like the way you think." She skips to the poisons section, pressing her palms against the glass. "Fear… yeah. I get it. Make 'em sweat before they bleed. Make 'em check their coffee every damn morning."
I smile at her, pleased with her response. "Exactly! You learn fast. Come on, let's go see what old Charlie's up to," I say, leading the way into the workshop. There's shelves covered in bits and pieces, tool kits, tool crates, benches and every piece of tabletop machinery imaginable strewn everywhere. The place is a chaotic mess, but its the various pieces of weaponry, armour and technology being worked on lining one whole side of the place that captures the eye, until we spot the older gentleman crouching before a Kawasaki Ninja motorcycle.
I clear my throat as he looks up from his work and spots us, a look of slight surprise replaced by one of irritation. "Ah! So she showed up after all," he says, with a frown. "Look, can I talk to you for a minute?" he asks me. "In private?"
I nod "Fine, but make it quick." Charlie and I walk a few meters away and leave Cat standing by herself beside the bike and the tools, equipment, gizmos, gadgets, projects and god knows what littered around the place.
Cat's fingers twitch as Charlie and Doc away, her eyes darting like a feral fox in a hen house. She doesn't move toward the bike, not yet, but her gaze locks onto a half-disassembled plasma torch on the workbench, then flicks to a welding mask with a cracked visor. "Ooooh…" She whispers to herself, edging closer. Her fingers hover, not to steal, but to admire. Then her eyes land on the Kawasaki, and she grins, slow and wicked, already naming it in her head, the bike jet black, splashed with blood-like splatters of red, "Bloody Mary." She doesn't touch, but her knife taps a steady rhythm against her thigh. The countdown has begun.
We stand within ear shot of Cat who can hear us if she tries to listen, not realising she may be listening in as we talk. "Are you sure about this?" Charlie asks. "Too many people know about our operation and the location of this base already. She makes four and that's at least one too many."
"Look we need to find a replacement for Bob. He can't keep helping us forever; he's only available part time as it is. He's got a family to look after and a business to run, not to mention his mum now living with them since she got sick. We need to find someone who can be here full time," I retort.
"I know that," Charlie says. "I just don't see how you could decide the right person for the job was some random girl who stumbled in on one of your kills."
I point a finger at him accusingly. "You're the one who's always telling me that everything happens for a reason, and well I think I ran into her for one of those very reasons," I say, my tone determined as I glance over at Cat and see her standing there ogling the bike. "Don't even think about it!" I say, raising my voice in a stern tone. I turn my attention back to him and continue. "I know she's a bit rough around the edges, to say the least, but she's smart, willing and able, and I think with the right training, approach and time she can be an invaluable asset."
Charlie sighs. "You're really set on this ain't ya?" he says in his gentlemanly, southern accent.
I nod in response, fixing him with an unblinking stare.
Cat doesn't flinch at his shout, she freezes, one hand halfway to the bike's exhaust pipe, fingers twitching like a child caught stealing candy. But when he turned back to Charlie, her lips curl into asmile. "Mmm…" She licks her lips, eyes locked on you both, overhearing every word. "Invaluable asset, huh?" She whispers, voice like syrup and razor blades. "Heh, I'll show you invaluable!" Then, innocently, she picks up a wrench, taps it against her palm, and pretends to inspect the bike's tire pressure, humming a cheerful tune as if she hadn't just absorbed our entire conversation like a sponge.
We both turn back to Cat and I frown as I see her wielding the wrench. "Shit!" I say to myself. "Did she overhear? She's not going to belt him with the wrench is she?"
Charlie walks towards her and stops in front of her with a smile. "Well hello there Missy," he says, with a friendly smile beneath his large moustache. "Allow me to introduce myself, I'm Charlie," he says, leaning down and taking her hand and planting a polite old fashioned, gentlemanly kiss on it, before releasing her hand. "And I must say that you're as cute as a button," he beams with a smile and a twinkle in his eye. "I hope you'll forgive me my transgressions, protecting the Doc here and looking after our operation is my job." He straightens up. "I'm not so sure about this whole thing, but the Doc insists you're a perfect fit to join us; and if that's good enough for him, then that's good enough for me," Charlie says with a smile.
Cat tilts her head like a curious predator when Charlie takes her hand, watching his lips brush her knuckles with rapt fascination. When he pulls away, she grins, wide and unnerving. "Mmm…Charlie," she purrs, voice dripping with mock sweetness. "Cute as a button, huh?" Shetwirls the wrench in her hand like a baton, then taps it against her palm, eyes flicking to the bike's engine. "You know… I love old fashioned manners." Sheleans in, eyes glinting with madness. "Almost as much as I love fire… and broken bones… and screaming." Thenshe beams, skipping backwards like a schoolgirl. "But don't worry, Mr. Charlie! I promise I won't hit you, unless Doc says it's homework!" She giggles, twirling the wrench again before tossing it back onto the bench.
Charlie stares at Cat in confusion, raises an eyebrow at her, then shrugs and nods in acceptance. "That's mighty kind of you," he says. He then leans in and lowers his voice as if sharing a secret with her. "And if you could do an old man a favour and make the Doc's life here a living hell, you'd make me one happy ole cowboy," he says, tossing her a wink as he chuckles.
I roll my eyes and step in between them. "Charlie loves giving me a hard time, the insufferable old coot," I explain. I motion Cat out of the workshop. "Come Cat, let's go see the rest of the base. I'll show you the Raven's Nest," I declare, hoping to distract her. It occurs to me that she overheard our conversation and decided she doesn't like Charlie. I cringe internally, great something else I now have to deal with.
Cat skipped beside me, humming under her breath, her ponytails bouncing. "Mmm, the Raven's Nest," She turned back toward the workshop with a dreamy sigh. "Charlie's so sweet… like a grandpa who secretly feeds kids to gators at the petting zoo," she grins. "Don't worry, Doc. I won't stab him, unless he asks nicely." Then she's moving again, clinging to my arm like a hyperactive koala. "So! Nest time! Please tell me there's a throne made of skulls?"
I laugh, unable to help myself. "A throne of skulls? Now that would be cool wouldn't it? Like something out of Conan the Barbarian," I stop, half turning to look at her, not shaking off her grip on my arm, but becoming serious. "You don't like Charlie, do you?" I ask. "You overheard us?"
Cat's smile doesn't falter, it just tightens, like a noose being drawn. "Like him?" She tilts her head, eyes glittering with something too sharp to be human. "Doc, I love him!" She squeezes your arm tighter, leaning in like she's sharing a secret. "Love how he kissed my hand like I'm some damsel in distress instead of the hatchet waiting to split his skull open."
She giggles, then whispers "And yeah… I heard you. Too many people know. Random girl," her voice drops, flat and cold. "But I'm not random, Doc. I was chosen! You felt it when you saw me, same way I felt you the first time I saw your art on the news." Then she's bouncing again, cheerful, manic. "Sooo… about that throne?"
I take a moment to process everything. "Ah! It's not you Cat." I assure her. "Charlie's just protective, overly protective and a bit of a grump. But he's been a mentor to me for a long time. He didn't make a great first impression I know, but when I spoke he accepted and trusted my judgement. Then welcomed you to the team in his own, old fashioned way. Given time he can teach you a lot of things I can't. I can't force you to like him, but I can ask you to trust my judgement and give the miserable old bastard a second chance, please?" I ask her. "Then if he's still rude to you, then you can split his skull open," I add, lowering my free hand level with her chest with my pinky extended. "Pinky promise?"
Cat stared at his outstretched pinky like it's the most sacred, solemn, vow one could possibly make. Her grin flickers, just for a heartbeat, replaced by something quieter, darker, almost…tender. "Pfft!" She snorts, then giggles, then lunges forward, smashing her pinky into yours with bone-jarring force. "PINKY PROMISE!" She shakes your hand like a deranged auctioneer, eyes wild.
"Fine, fine! No skull-splitting…yet!"She winks, then presses her free hand to her chest. I'll be super nice, polite and smile."
Then suddenly she stops, tilts her head like a curious dog, and nuzzles her cheek against your arm. "But… if he ever calls me 'Missy' again?" her voice drops to a purr. "That's a pinkyun-promise, Doc."
I laugh. "Got it!...Come on, you'll love this!" I say, leading her up the staircase to the partial second floor of the factory. I key in a combination on a keypad and the door slides open like something from a sci-fi movie as we step into a large room where on the far wall the Raven's Nest sits. The Nest is a massive bank of blinking lights, computer screens, gizmos and gadgets with enough computer technology to make a NASA technician squeal with joy. "This is the Raven's Nest!" I announce, gesturing at the huge computer terminal that looks like a professional gamer's wet dream. A lone high tech chair sits in front of it, a keypad built into each arm.
"From here we can access any computer system in the country, see any security camera, control everything from traffic lights to weather stations, mass transport systems and air traffic control," I explain.
Cat doesn't walk into the Nest; she floats, like a ghost being drawn towards the light. Her breath catches as the glow paints her face in electric hues, her eyes reflecting the blinking lights like those of a feral cat in a neon jungle. "Oooooohhhhhhh…" She whispers, fingers twitching at her sides, already itching to touch, to corrupt, to burn it all down and rebuild it in her own image. "It's…beautiful!" She skips to the chair, running her hands over the leather like it's sacred skin. "Can I… can I name it? Please? I was thinking…The Screaming Throne!" She spins, suddenly dead serious, voice dropping to a hushed growl. "Doc… do you have access to school cameras? Church systems? Hospitals?" hergrin returns, wider than before. "Imagine… if I could watch Father O'Malley beg in real time or..." She gasps, clapping her hands. "What if I hacked a nursing home and played metal at 3 AM over the intercom?! They'd all think it was a haunting! I'd be a ghost with guitar solos!" Then she slides into the chair, fingers hovering over the keypad. "So… what's the first order of business, Boss? Do I get to break something pretty? Or do we start with the slow kill?"
"The Screaming Throne is yours," I agree. "But no, you're not touching anything until Bob gets here and shows you how to use it all. He'll be teaching you all the tech stuff; and you'll be happy to know he'll be along soon to give you a crash course in running it. I don't understand it all, but he insists it's all designed to be user friendly. The man's a genius, he found a way to design programs to hack protected systems within minutes. But he'll show you all of that," I tell her. I laugh at her ideas, sense of humour, mischief and enthusiasm. "That depends on what metal band you want to play. But anyway, he'll be giving you a live demonstration on facilitating a mission while I deal with a local mob boss," I explain.
Cat squeals with delight, her entire body vibrating in the Screaming Throne as she clutches the armrests like they're steering the apocalypse.
"BOB?! BOB'S COMING?" She screeches, then immediately clamps a hand over her mouth, peeking at you with gigantic, fake-innocent eyes, grinning like a shark. "Can't wait to meet him! Does he like hugs? Orstabbing? Orhugswithstabbing?" She kicks her legs, already imagining the chaos. "So… I'll be watching you kill a mob boss? Inrealtime?! her voice drops to a whisper, giddy with blood lust. "Can I commentate? Like… 'LEFT, DOC, HE'S GOING LEFT! NO—DOWN! THEKNIFE, THEKNIFE!' She mimes slitting a throat, then gasps. "Ooooh! Can I addsuspensefulmusic to the feed?! Somethingwithlots of screaming and chainsaws?!" She leans back, stroking the chair's arm. "Mmmmm, the Screaming Throne… I think I hear itwhispering to me already. Don't worry, Doc. I'll be good…until Bob says I can play."
"Yes indeed, and some of his thugs as well. Our surveillance work lends us to believe there will be him with the usual four other guys at the strip club he owns after closing time," I explain. "If I require it Bob will let me know what to expect, your job is to observe and learn as much as you can. In future you'll be doing exactly that." I pause and study her for a few moments, just sitting there in the Screaming Throne. I'd not noticed until Charlie had pointed it out, but she was very cute. Cat was unusual in that she seemed to have two completely different personalities that were taken to the extreme. I was quickly learning that to keep her happy and focused I would have to find ways to please either one or both of those sides of her. She really was very interesting too, and cute. I realise I've been staring at her, chastise myself and clear my throat.
Cat catches the lingering look, of course she does, and for a split second, her manic grin softens into something almost human. Her cheeks flush the faintest shade of pink beneath the heavy eyeliner, but then she's back, louder than before, as if to cover the flicker of something real. "Wooowww, Doc!" She drawls, slumping into he Screaming Throne, one leg kicked over the armrest. "Staring at me like that? Tsk tsk, what would Charlie say? Oh wait..." She gasps, mock-horrified. "He'd kiss my hand again and call me 'Missy' and I'd have to stab him out of sheer agony." She giggles, then sits up abruptly, eyes dancing with mischief. "But seriously… if you keep lookin' at me like I'm cute instead of terrifying," Her voice drops to a purr "I might start thinkin' you like me. And that'd be awkward." Then cheerfully she kicks her feet again, as if she hadn't just detonated the air in the room. "But...no pressure! I'll be good! Unless Bob's boring. Then I might accidentally reroute all the city's traffic lights to blink red just to spice things up!"
I shake my head to snap myself out of it. "Sorry, I was just thinking. Focusing on the mission ahead you know? Your training and what it will involve and stuff." I say, hoping to whatever deity there was that she bought it. The vibe in the room feels awkward and stifling with some tension I can't identify. Here we are two people talking in a room, her dressed in her trademark get up, while I'm in jeans, my hair tied back in a long, loose ponytail wearing a Metallica Ride the Lighting shirt. It feels way too casual when I had intended it to be purely professional. I laugh at her quip about Charlie, genuinely finding it amusing if I choose to take it as a joke. "Then let's hope he doesn't," I say, with a nervous chuckle, again hoping she interprets it as being related to the thought of what she might do to Charlie and not her talking about me thinking she's cute and that I like her. Christ this is awkward. "So, um er, anyway….You want to see something else that's really cool?" I ask, changing the topic to what I had originally planned.
Cat tilts her head, her eyes narrowing like a cat who's deciding whether to play with its food or eat it whole. She sees my nervous laugh, the way my fingers twitch toward my ponytail, the slight flush creeping up my neck, but she doesn't pounce. Instead, she grins, wide and cheerful, like a child handed a candy bomb. "Oooooohhh Doc," She drawls, swinging her legs like she doesn't feel the tension at all, like she wasn't the one who wove it into the air like barbed wire. "Lead the way! I bet the next room's got, like, a laser-shark tank or a torture garden with carnivorous roses!"
She hops out of the Screaming Throne and skips toward the door, but not before brushing her fingers against the armrest one last time, whispering to it like a lover. "Don't worry, darling… I'll be back." Then over her shoulder, sweet as sugar and razors, "And don't think I didn't notice you changing the subject, Cutie!" She giggles, dashes ahead, and spins to face you, blocking the next doorway with her arms wide. "Now, show me the rest of your pretty little hell!"
I sigh and follow her, hitting another code into the door as it slides open and I gesture for her to enter, following right behind. In the middle of the room frozen like mannequins are the four current outfits I have as the Plague Doctor. One with a hooded cloak, another with a top hat and cape, the third with a wide brimmed hat and cloak and the fourth a tighter fitting outfit without any head wear. The walls in the room are oddly blank, just cold stainless steel walls until I utter the word "Bubonic" and they slide open, revealing two walls lined with all sorts of knives, swords, throwing weapons and various other melee implements of punishment such as night sticks, nun-chucks, staffs and stun batons. "Welcome to the armoury!" I say, with a grin.
Cat doesn't walk into the armoury, she floats, like a spirit drawn to sacred relics. Her breath hitches as the steel walls slide open, revealing the gleam of blades and the promise of pain. She spins slowly, arms outstretched, eyes drinking in every inch. "Oooooohhh…" She whispers. "Doc…I think I'm in love." She dashes to the costumes first, tracing a gloved fingertip along the hooded cloak like it's holy cloth. "Ooooooh, the classic!" Then she skips to the top hat and cape. "Ooooh, fancy! Like a demon at a gala!" She giggles, then snarls at the tighter outfit. "Ahhh, the stealth look! So sleek! So snakelike!" Then, with dramatic flourish, she faces the armoury wall and falls to her knees, hands pressed together in prayer. "Sweet mother of gore," she whispers, tears glistening in her eyes. "It's…beautiful…" she scrambles up, dashing from weapon to weapon, like a devout child reciting holy scripture. "Throwing stars; cute! Nun-chucks, naughty! Stun baton; Ooooh!, can I lick it and see if I feel the tingle?" Then she stops dead in front of a curved surgical saw, its teeth dulled from use, dark stains crusted along the base. She turns to you, eyes wide, voice hushed with reverence. "Doc…" She whispers. "Can I name this one?" And before you can answer, "I call it…..The Giggle saw!" She giggles, then bows before it like it's her new god.
I smile at her. "The Giggle saw it is! I have fond memories of this one. It's one of my first weapons," I tell her. "Saved my life a couple of times. Back when I only carried a couple of more basic weapons it was my secret one, in case everything else went wrong and I needed one. Slash right across the jugular," I said, making a cutting motion across my throat. Then I look at the third and still closed section of wall. "Don't you want to see what's behind door number three?" I ask, with a sly grin. "I think you'll like it!"
Cat's breath comes in short, eager bursts, her entire body tense like a coiled spring about to snap. She doesn't clap, doesn't squeal; she goes silent, eyes locked on the final wall like it's the gateway to heaven.
"Don'ttease me, Doc," She whispers,grinning maniacally. "Soooo! Door number three?! C'mon, C'mon! I gotta see! Is it full of acid? Traps? A livevictim in suspension?!" Then she grins, wild, feral. "Or better yet, is it yourbedroom? 'Cause I've got plans for that one."
I nod and say "Plague!" and as if by magic the third wall slides away, revealing an impressive arsenal of guns. 9mm Barettas, revolvers, Uzis, MP5s, sub- machine guns, M16s, a Scorpion machine gun, a fifty calibre sniper rifle and a rocket launcher. Aligned down the bottom of the display is a range of grenades, pipe bombs, flash bangs, smoke grenades and various types of plastic explosives and specialised ammo. "For those times when we need a bit more fire power!" I say grinning, knowing she'll love being so close to such lethal weaponry.
Cat doesn't scream, doesn't cheer, doesn't move. For three full seconds, she freezes, a statue carved from gore and wonder. Her chest rises and falls in shallow, trembling breaths. Her fingers twitch. Her lips part. "...HOLY. FUCKING. SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!"
I laugh at her reaction, then affectionately pat her on the head. "Beautiful isn't it?" I ask, then realising I've pet her like a puppy I withdraw my hand and cross my arms.
Cat doesn't move when you pat her head, but something inside her freezes, like a clock struck by a holy hand. Her grin widens, her eyes glazing over. Then, the second you pull your hand away, she snaps back, bouncing on her toes. But beneath the hysteria, her fingers brush the spot on her scalp where your hand lingered, just once, gently, like she's testing if it's real.
We return to the Raven's Nest where Charlie has set up another two seats from his office downstairs. "Got it all set for ya, chief!" he says.
Cat skips into the Raven's Nest like she's returning to her true home, plopping into the Screaming Throne with a satisfied sigh. She runs her hands over the armrests, naming each button in her head.
When Charlie walks in with the extra seats, she doesn't look at him, not at first. But as he sets them down, she slowly turns her head, like a predator tracking prey. "Mmmrrrow," She purrs, kicking her feet up onto the console. "Look at you, helping and everything! What's wrong, Mr. Charlie? Did the nice old man finally soften?" her grin is sweet, toxic. Then, suddenly, she leans forward, eyes wide with mock innocence. "Don't worry, Charlie… I'll be good…" And for a heartbeat her smile falters, softening into something almost real. Then she's grinning again, wild, unhinged, deranged. "Unless Bob takes too long. Then I might have to accidentally crash the city's power grid. For science!"