Chapter 1: That Stupid Cat

I sighed. "Stamps is such a killjoy sometimes. I mean, all the guy ever DOES is record videos! How weird, right? Seriously, no one's gonna get mad at 'im if he takes a day off!" I ranted, walking expressively down the road, my tentacle-arms flying everywhere irritatedly as I raged at innocent passerby.
"I mean, what the hell is his deal anyway?! It's not like I asked him to jump off the clock tower!"
I veered down the road to where it linked with the bridge to the ocean.
"I just wanted to play a friggin' round of Hunger Games with the guy! Is that so much to ask?!"
I recalled Stampy's response with a bitter anger.
'Oh, you mean to record? Well, I do need a new video for next Wednesday...i'm sure a Hunger Games will do-' I cut him off.
'No, mate, just to play! We haven't done anything like that in absolute ages and-'
'Squid, if it's not to record, then why bother? I have too much to do here to play stupid games.'
'Stupid games? What on Earth has gotten into ya', Stamps? We haven't done anything BUT record videos in a long while and I thought we could just-'
'Squid, for the last time, I haven't the time for a 'tea-party' with you, alright? If you're bored, go away and find someone else to pester. Can't you see i'm already busy here? Honestly, I feel like i'm more your keeper than your friend sometimes.'
'MY KEEPER?! Stampy, what the hell is-'
'Don't you have a game to play, Squid?' He sneered at me. At that point I had no interest in playin' with the guy at all, and promptly stormed out of his house. The guy had killed my mood, and now I just wanted to get back on my sky island series- see my dogs and all that.

I got to the water and put a boat down.
"Huh. Well, why don't we see how Stampy feels after I go home for a few weeks. Maybe THAT'LL spark his precious interest," I spat at air. "Since he's my 'Keeper' now, maybe a few weeks vacation from me is just what the doctor called for." My voice was turning more angry than sneering, and before I knew it I was fuming. I just had to get home. I was about to get in the boat, but I heard footsteps behind me.
"WELL, look who came crawling back to APOLOGIZE," I boiled without turning around. He didn't answer.
"What's up, Stamps? Are ya' out of wisecracks? Or did you just come to give me a spare pack of DIAPERS for the journey? You're my KEEPER now, right?" I was red in the face and about ready to punch his orange one in. I whipped around, another insult burning a hole in my teeth. But it quickly died.
It wasn't Stampy.
The man who stood just five feet in front of me had jet-black hair, gelled back lightly and combed, so it looked as if he were going to a fancy ball. He had light olive skin, and his hands were enclosed in a pair of black gloves, each with a gold clip around the wrist. He had a sharp jaw, but a pair of deep amber eyes that were surprisingly... friendly. He stood in a maroon vest with orate gold embroidery, black dress pants, shoes that looked as if they've just been shined, and around his broad shoulders draped a long, stark red cape with decadent gold lettering that spelled out H. T. T.
Target.
Target had never personally wronged me, just Stampy. Still, the sight of him put me on high guard. I got my sword at hand.
"I know how you feel," He said, in a voice easily as smooth as his appearance. He strode a few steps closer, obviously unfazed by my weapon. I stood my ground.
"You two must have really fought, with you spitting fire like that. I always thought of you as..." He paused, carefully choosing his words. "even-tempered."
I was determined to not be intimidated, even though every step closer he took I lost some nerve.
"What's it to you?" I asked, trying to sound as confident as I could muster. It wasn't working. He smiled poilitely, which took me aback. I had seen this man as nothing but a brute all my life.
"Nothing, really. I just thought you seemed a little out of character, that's all." His voice was kind, and he moved closer a couple more steps.
"That's funny," I said uneasily, "so do you." He looked downright dumb for a split-second, clearly confused, when a sudden realization cleared his vision.
"You see me as a villian, don't you?" He asked, moving ever closer. There was about two feet between us now. I gulped.
"Yeah, I do." I regrouped some confidence and held up my weapon. He pulled a sideways grin, walked towards my sword, pinched the tip of it with two fingers,
and lightly plucked it out of my grasp.
'WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?' I internally screamed. 'YOU HAVE TARGET RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU AND YOU LET HIM TAKE YOUR ONLY WEAPON?!'
He dropped the sword on the ground and tapped it away with his right foot.
"Boo."
I let out a stupid girly scream, jumped up three feet in the air, and flipped halfway around- landing flat on my back. Then Target was right above me.
'This is it. I'm gonna die.' I thought. Target extended his hand out to me. I figured he had some tiny gun-ring that shot poison darts, or a microscopic tazer, or a hidden blade thingy from Assassins' Creed, but nothing came. I opened my eyes. His hand was still there, hovering a little bit away from my chest.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Squid." He said calmly, but there was a trace of hurt there as well.
"...You're not?"
"No, i'm really not."
"Oh."
I took his hand and he helped me up.
"Thanks."
"No problem." He put his hand on my shoulder, a gesture that not even Stampy does.
"I'm fine with you leaving and all, but you know...if you ever need to talk, you know where to find me." He said hesitently, as if he was fearing rejection.
"Yeah, thanks!" I nodded. I smiled for the first time since this morning. He smiled back, letting his fingers linger for a second before placing his hand behind his back.
"Ok. Yeah, er...cool. See you around Squid."
"See ya, ...Target."
I bent down to pick up my sword, and the second I looked up, he was nowhere to be seen. I turned back to my boat and kicked it so hard that it shot off and shattered on some ice in the water. I turned back toward the bridge. It was night now. I had been gone a whole day. But i'm sure that Stampy wouldn't care.
That Stupid Cat.