Stray Cat Strut - Volume Nine - Chapter Two (Patreon)

Chapter Two -

***

Since I didn’t want to dive into any sort of clusterfuck without doing at least some amount of ass-covering prep work, I figured I ought to ask some of my friends for help.

But first, snacks. 

I padded over to the kitchen then checked the fridge for leftovers. There were a few things, but the Kittens had been picking away at everything. Lucy had made this meat sauce with little meatballs, and the little shits living in my house had plucked all of the meatballs out of the sauce.

Shaking my head, I settled on some toaster pastries from the cupboard. It was fast, and It was something I could eat while walking around. While I waited, I noticed some of the brats poking their heads in, and I told them that I’d be off. “I won’t be gone for long. Myalis will be watching over you.”

I only volunteered to watch over one child.

I figured that one child was me. “I don’t know what direction you’re in, but can you assume that I’m politely directing these two fingers in your direction?”

Cute.

I was gonna head down a couple of floors and go bother Gomorrah.

Of all the Samurai I knew, she was the one I’d worked with the most, and I trusted her. Plus we were neighbours, so I figured she thought of me as a friend. That was probably how it worked, right? People didn’t move next door to someone that they didn’t like, right?

Fuck, how did normal adults make friends? Most of the people I knew were orphans stuck in the same shitty system. I hoped that that wasn’t the only way I knew how to get to know people in the future, because it would be a little sad if it was.

I jumped a little as the toaster went off, then I juggled the pastry to keep from burning my fingers too bad. I was pretty sure my new skin was more fireproof, but it was the thought that counted. 

Right, samurai friends... 

Gomorrah was the first I’d ask, but if things in Quebec were as much of a clusterfuck as I expected, then I’d definitely want to drag more along.

Would any of the higher-tier locals want to come? I was pretty unfamiliar with the more Family-related samurai. The Dial-Ups and Lags, and the Jolly Monarchs who hung out around New Montreal sometimes.

Something told me that higher-tier people were probably above this kind of mission. Might not hurt to ask, but I didn’t know them well.

Grasshopper... yeah, okay, her I could ask. Even if she said no, it wouldn’t sting, and I wasn’t spending any social capital with her if I just asked.

Who else... Deus Ex was right out, she foisted this shit onto me to begin with.

Emoscythe? That was possible, but I already owed her a favour that I was worried about, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to add more to that. 

Which brought me to the less-high-tier samurai that were from around the city. 

Crackshot was worth asking. He was cool and dependable. Gros Baton might not mind visiting Quebec. Plus there were more French people over there, so he’d be useful to have for translation. Hedgehog was a stick in the mud, but he was good too, so that wasn’t a bad idea.

Then there was Tankette. She was also dependable. If we were going to be playing a more defensive role, then she might be nice to have around. Princess... urgh. I didn’t wanna. But Shy, on the other hand, was nice to have around.

I nodded to myself as I walked towards the elevator, picking up some boots along the way and slipping them on with a hop. I left them untied. Half because I just didn’t care (it wasn’t like I was going far) and half because it would bother Gomorrah in a way that I found kind of amusing.

I finished my snack on the way down, then stepped out into the small entrance lobby that Delilah and Franny had built, leading into their home. I didn’t even know if either of them were here. 

Still, I walked up to their door and knocked. “Yo! Is anyone home?”

It took a minute, but the door opened, and I found myself standing across from Delilah. She was in casual wear. A long skirt that even a grandma would find a bit stuffy, and a rather nice blouse that looked like it might be silk or something. “Catherine,” she said. “What are you wearing?”

“Boots?”

“I meant the... pants.”

I looked down. “They’re booty shorts.”

“They’re an affront to god and fashion.”

I snorted. “You don’t know what’s good, Delilah,” I replied, using her full and proper name. Not that it was an easy name to shorten. “Imagine Franny wearing these, huh?”

Delilah sighed. “Catherine,” she said.

I just grinned in return. “Maybe you should try them on? For your girlfriend?” I asked, making sure to be as saccharine and teasing as I could be. 

“You’re not just here to bother me, are you?”

I shook my head. “Nah. Got a mission from the pipsqueak. Not sure if I won’t just ignore it, but in case I decide to dive in, I figured I might as well see if you wanted to come along?”

“The pipsqueak?” she asked.

“Deus Ex,” I replied, making a gesture at about collarbone-height to show how I was talking about.

“Ah,” Delilah said. She backed out of the entrance. “Come on. I have some coffee brewing. I feel like it might help with this discussion.”

I followed. Delilah and Franny had a really nice kitchen. A bit nicer than ours, actually. Maybe we could make it bigger? Would Lucy like that? She liked cooking, so maybe I could ask her. I took a seat at the island while Delilah fetched two mugs and poured them full of coffee. I wasn’t even a big fan of it, but it did smell real good.

“We have creamer, milk, cream, sugar...”

“Yup,” I said. “To all of it.”

She gave me a terribly judgemental look, then fetched a bunch of things from the fridge and set them before me. I proceeded to turn the coffee into some sort of sugar chimera to down out the bitterness. 

She took hers black.

“So, what did Saint Deus Ex ask you to do?”

“Saint?”

“Sorry. Just... that’s how we used to talk about her,” Delilah said with a slight shrug.

“Wild. Do they call you Saint Delilah? Saint Gomorrah? Wait, do I have a little shrine?”

“I hope not,” she said. She didn’t sound certain about that, though. “In any case, you’re dodging the question.”

“No no, I was getting to it,” I said. “She asked me to basically check in on Quebec. I think she figures that our warning to the gangs will give us a solid month or so of relative peace. I thought we’d get to spend that relaxing and getting a few things done, but I guess that doesn’t fit her plans.”

“I see. And what’s happening in Quebec? I hadn’t heard anything too negative.”

I took another sip of the coffee, then reached over for the sugar again. “Honestly? Can’t tell you. Not because of secrecy or anything. Or not because of ours, at least. Things look normal on the news. Like, too normal, you know?”

“I don’t, but I think I can imagine what you mean,” she said. “Quebec isn’t too far from here. A relatively short flight if you’re moving fast enough.”

“Mhm. I think the Bastion can make it there in about an hour. Maybe one and a half,” I said. “So if we head over, we can be back in time to sleep in our own beds. Assuming we leave at a reasonable time.”

“You mean noon.”

“A reasonable time,” I repeated.

She huffed, then leaned back against the counter. “I suppose it might not hurt to go with you and see what the situation is like with my own eyes. Were you going to build a squad to head over?”

“Something like that. I was thinking I’d ask Grasshopper and Shy, at least. Maybe some of the others, if they have free time and aren’t doing anything more important. Showing up with one Samurai is nice, showing up with two is nicer, showing up with a group is like, a declaration, or something.”

“Mhm.” She blinked a few times. “Are there really so few Samurai left there? Three active? Two?”

“I don’t know. I think that’ll be the first thing we need to find out.”

Delilah’s lips were thin as she stared off into space, probably looking something over. “I’ve got this awful feeling in my gut that this is a lot of trouble, Cat. More than you’re appreciative of.”

I grinned. “Good! Then you’ll really want to be there, otherwise I’ll be the one having to solve it, and no one wants that.”

***