@landsharkbite
Early afternoon. The Epsilon district was surprisingly quiet. I mean, the sounds of crowds moving over the sidewalks and car horns going off from near-collisions filled the air. But that was to be expected. This WAS a city, after all.
No, the meaning of “quiet” here is that there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary going on. There wasn’t some man, clad in a red leather jacket and wielding a wooden sword, chasing down an oddly-shaped kitten, small fires often dotting their wake. None of that was going on in the early afternoon.
That would happen in the LATE afternoon.
Travis had gotten sick of this shit within the first five minutes.
It had gone on for almost twelve.
“WHAT?! The FUCK is your deal?!”
This little cat came outta nowhere to pounce on Travis’ head while he was out shopping. He’d tried to pet it after the initial shock wore off, but it ran away. Weird, but weird could be normal behavior for cats. So Travis had just shrugged it off, and resumed his business. But then the cat kept pouncing on him. Weird, and kind of annoying. But still, Travis didn’t chase after it. It was when the little guy started shooting fucking fire that Travis came to the conclusion that this thing wanted a fight.
And so, the chase began. The longer it went on? The more that Travis felt like his opponent was just toying with him, taunting him with that smug fucking grin?
The more Travis wanted to beat its face in, his love of cats be damned.
And at this point, he didn’t even mind asking for help. Which made it all the luckier when, upon him and his new mortal foe rounding a corner, Travis happened to spot a familiar face. One who would probably slap him again for saying this, but dammit, Travis wasn’t in the mindset to remember names!
“Hey, er, Shark-Girl! Grab that thing!”