So I relented… Sorry. Characters intellectual property of Warner Brothers, blah blah blah, numerous references to the film Desparado and blah blah blah.

Renegade Serenade –Sabado Insomniazzz

I.

A slight drizzle sprayed the street in a subtle almost hypnotic beat. Thick plumes of fog roamed about along the highway disappearing into oblivion only to reappear moments later in other spaces like teleporting snakes. A humble overpass offered little shelter for the residents of the roads, but was a welcome alternative to being completely exposed to the elements on this October night. It wasn't much of a crowd, seven at best, but they huddled close to one another, not necessarily for the body heat as usual. This time a unfortunate few had the privilege of being in company with a violinist passing through the area.

Alas, what he could do on his instrument was mystical. Hearing the melody on that night, one might abandon all hope for salvation. After all, if one so talented could be homeless, how could there be any hope for anyone? But that was a thought for a later time and the drifters simply allowed a night of anxiety to melt away in the tune that the blue cat carried on for hours until the clouds ran out of tears.

II.

At first light, the violin virtuoso stretched for a while, resting his eyes a bit longer. Hitchhiking, bus rides, walking and even skitching had taken him to the outskirts of his latest destination. In actuality, there was no destination and he was simply out of funds to travel further. So Xenia, it was. Taking his first step into the outskirts of the town, the first thing Furrball noticed was the lingering shadow that stretched as far as the eye could see. A bad omen perhaps, but options were limited. Before he knew it, the cat was walking across the roads, passing park after park. Kids in the street stopped and stared. Women pretended not to notice him (poorly). Passing businessmen scowled as Furrball trudged by with his violin case. It wasn't something he wasn't used to, but there was something strangely eerie about this particular place. The way the shadows seemed to be leading him wherever he went. It made the countless eyes on him seem colder than usual.

The cat ducked into a greasy spoon and quickly fumbled with his wallet. A warm room or food? The wafting aroma of fried potatoes from the kitchen reminded him that it had been nearly a week since he'd last eaten. Looked like he would be sleeping under the stars again tonight. Sighing, Furrball walked up to the end of the counter and climbed onto a stool. A couple of slightly obese elder folk sat a few stools away, their chatter ending as Furrball browsed the menu. The feline pretended not to notice, mentally preparing himself for the inevitable "Blah blah blah long way from home, boy" shtick. The only thing that came was a waiter, though. He looked a bit younger than Furrball, but just as tired, if not moreso.

"Hiya stranger. What can I get ya?"

Furrball blinked, rubbing his eyes. It took him a bit to register that the waiter was talking to him. Such a warm tone was the least thing he'd expected. Furrball smiled slightly nevertheless and pointed to the least expensive meal on the menu. The waiter smiled wider at this.

"You sure about that, stranger? You look hungry enough to eat a horse."

Furrball's eye widened, unfamiliar with such an expression, causing the waiter to laugh out loud, clearly amused with the cat's look. The feline managed a sheepish nod.

"Alight, I gotcha. But I'll ask Miguel to throw in some extra grits for ya, kay?" he winked as he walked off to top off another patron's coffee.

Without the shield of the menu, Furrball was completely exposed to the laser beams. The men sitting near him had stopped eating their meals and were staring at him now. Not in the "get outta my town" look, but more of a "what the hell is that?" look, which was something he wasn't used to. Actually, thinking back to the past couple of weeks and it occurred to the cat that he hadn't seen another anthro toon in almost a month. Perhaps they generally didn't come this far east. Or west. But still, this didn't make it easier to ignore the stares.

Before matters could get any worse, the waiter returned with a glass of ice water for Furrball, sensitive to the fact that the feline hadn't ordered anything to drink. He mewed graciously, but nearly inaudibly, so as to not draw any further attention to him. The waiter nodded and patted him on the shoulder, acknowledging this gesture.

"So where you from, stranger?" The waiter positioned himself between Furrball and the old men. Furrball held up two fingers, then one. He hugged his arms and shivered violently, chattering his teeth for emphasis.

"Brr?"

Good, so the waiter was decent at charades. Furrball took a dollar out of his wallet and drew a house in the air, placing the dollar into the "house".

"Bank!" One of the old guys spoke up, excitedly. Furrball smiled wide and nodded.

"Brr bank? Burbank! Right? In California?" the waiter mused. Furrball held a thumbs up.

"Yeah!" The two old men cheered, indicating their lives really were that boring. Furrball shook his head and tried not to laugh.

As soon as the old man left, several other customers showed up, causing the waiter to become very busy. Furrball ate his meal in silence as slowly as possible, trying to savor every bite. One would think it would be easier to ignore the others with food to distract you, but a young patron actually went as far as to poke the feline on the side. His mother quickly rebuked her young charge initially but curiosity overcame her as well and she ended up doing to same thing before running back to her booth with the rest of her family. By the time the waiter came back to refill his water, Furrball thrust the money he owed in his hand and started to leave. The waiter stood by the stool a bit stunned and a guilty feeling streaked through his body.

"Hold up a second!"

The blue cat stopped at the door, not bothering to turn around.

"Um… you gotta name?"

Furrball looked over his shoulder. He started to pantomime his name and stopped. Shaking his head, the cat left the restaurant, much to the dismay of the intrigued patrons.

III.

Furrball remembered passing a park on the way to the restaurant not too far away. He headed for the park, hoping it was empty. Though the shadows followed him to the park, there were no rain clouds in the sky on the bright side. Sighing, Furrball set his violin case against a tree and had a seat, staring off into space for a moment. The sudden freedom of temporary solitude comforted him after his encounter in the diner. A western breeze blew across his fur, sparking the desire to play in the wind for a time. The feline opened his case before his inspiration left him and soon, a subtle, serendipitous sound of silent sadness spread throughout the park.

Before long, Furrball's eyes closed as he allowed the violin to possess his spirit and he played as if he were in heaven… carefree and without pain; allowing himself to share his emotions with the world, oblivious to the onlookers. Gradually the pianissimo piece evolved into a mezzo forte melody as the feline melodically massaged his mental anguish away. When he had finished, Furrball looked at the sky to find that the sun had gone down. Then he heard the rain, but couldn't feel the drops. It wasn't until his eyes adjusted that he realized he wasn't hearing rain, but applause from his audience whom, up until now he was oblivious to. Caught completely off-guard, Furrball blushed, looking down, only to find his violin case stuffed with cash, donated by the patrons of the arts. The blue feline pointed to the money and shook his head, waving his arms.

"It's the least we could do," a smartly dressed middle aged woman explained. "Someone of your caliber… it might cost $1,000 a ticket to hear in concert."

The others nodded in agreement. Furrball felt a lump in his throat that wasn't a fur ball. He bowed his head, conceding defeat and mewed bashfully. As the crowd dissipated, the woman remained. Gently lifting the cat's head up, she smiled. Handing him her business card, she closed his paw over it. "Come see me if you're running low on funds, hon." Furrball raised an eyebrow as she waltzed away. He looked down at her business card. Her name was Emily Duff and she owned a nightclub downtown. Emily Duff. The name was somewhat familiar to him. Did he know her?

Collecting the cash, Furrball counted around $200. He was almost tempted to stay in a hotel for the night. Almost. Finding a decent hiding place under a park bench laced with some newspaper, Furrball took a long nap before exploring the town in typical feline fashion.

IV.

As dawn broke, Furrball scurried under a tunnel. Climbing up into the awning, the cat positioned his foot paws between some bricks, securing his positioning so he'd be able to sleep without the risk of falling in front of a moving vehicle. Sleeping like a bat as a cat did have its advantages, but it was a double–edged sword, as his paws would be incredibly sore afterwards. There was also the risk of carbon monoxide poisoning, but wandering around strange territory in broad daylight while exhausted posed a greater threat in the blue cat's mind.

It was half past five when the feline felt rested enough to take on society. Loosening his paws from the bricks, Furrball had just enough time to land atop a passing semi. Sticking his claws on the metal, the feline held on for dear life as he rode off of the highway and further into the town. After three stoplights, Furrball grabbed his violin and hopped off as the truck veered off again, finding himself in the dead center of downtown. The shadow from yesterday was ever present still, he noticed. Did the sun ever shine in Xenia? Furrball sat down at the side of the road to collect his bearings. Fishing out the business card from Ms. Duff, he checked the address. Glancing at the street sign on the corner, he had to do a double take. He was just one block from the night club. Furrball had to smirk at his luck. It was almost, no, it was exactly like those hackneyed plot devices from his previous career. Sighing, he took of down that street.

Sitting in front of the club, Furrball stared at the business card some more. Studied the name. He knew "Duff". It should have been setting off alarms, but the cat found that the only way he was able to drag himself from his sleep every day was to let go of the past and that meant doing a lot of storing away of his old memories into the deepest confides of his brain. Then they wouldn't be able to catch any light, resurfacing only when absolutely necessary. Putting the card away, Furrball deemed remembering to not be necessary after all, mentally noting that he knew giving up on this come back to bite him in the ass later. He stood up and approached the door stopping an inch before knocking as an icy tinge shot up his spine. Turning away, Furrball was completely caught off-guard when the door opened.

"The hell are you?"

The feline yowled and jumped back at the sound of the voice, surprised by the bouncer, who looked as if he would have trouble sneaking up on anyone. Furrball studied the man, his fur still raised as he crouched a few feet away from the bouncer. Dark eyes, dark skin, dark demeanor. Retired cage fighter, maybe? The feline gulped as the man spoke again.

"I said, 'what you don' here'?" he accented his question, taking a step out of the club. Furrball gulped, looking at the man's forearm. It was almost thicker in diameter than the cat himself. Furrball pointed to his violin case and the bouncer's face lightened up a bit.

"Lemme guess. You're looking for Bucho, right?" The bouncer laughed heartily at his own joke as Furrball stood dumbfounded having no idea what he was referring to. Before things got even more awkward, the lady from yesterday appeared in the doorway.

"Derrick, it's fine." She addressed the bouncer. Derrick looked over his shoulder and smiled before offering his hand to the cat. Furrball relaxed, accepting the man's hand and rose to his hind legs.

"Won't you come in, Furrball?" the lady's tone was as kind as it was last night. The cat mewed quietly and bent over to pick up his violin case when it hit him. Flashing the lady a suspicious look, Furrball was upset to find that she and the bouncer had already gone back inside. Ignoring his better judgment, he followed, wondering how in the world she knew his name.

The inside of the club was much larger than it seemed outside. Dimly lit, but oddly inviting. Derrick had resumed his post near the door, leaning against the wall.

"There's no work in this town for mariachis," he commented, laughing again. Furrball walked past him, still oblivious to the bouncer's humor.

"That's not necessarily true, Derrick, ya know." Furrball looked to the left and found Emily Duff sitting at bar. She pointed to the stool next to her and Furrball joined her, setting his violin on the stool next to him.

"Freddie, can you get a White Russian and a club sandwich for our guest here?" Emily smiled at Furrball as the bartender went to work without a sound. "You can drink alcohol by now, right? Is there even an age restriction for toon cats these days?"

Furrball frowned, folding his arms as Emily gazed at him.

"You don't remember me, do you?"

Furrball shook his head slightly as his meal arrived. Emily produced her wallet handing the cat a family photo just as he took a sip of his drink. Spewing the drink out, the feline backed up away from the woman, dropping the photograph. Emily smiled and bent down to retrieve the picture, causing Furrball to panic, looking around wildly for another party, dreading the sound of her voice.

Emily took no offense to this display, but attempted to usher Furrball back onto his stool.

"I figured you wouldn't remember me. We only did a couple of episodes together and never actually spoke before. Don't worry about my daughter, though. She's nowhere near this place." Emily's tone softened and a dark cloud seemed to start hovering over her face all of a sudden.

"My husband and I separated after Elmyra was committed. Never sat well with me the way the network encouraged and amplified her… tendencies. It was only a matter of time before she wouldn't be able to get out of character when she wasn't in the studio and when the show was canceled, I'm afraid she just lost her mind. It's been almost three years, now." Emily turned towards the bar again, her head dipping.

Furrball felt a lump in his throat as he sat at the bar once more. Hesitating, he put his paw on the counter near Emily. After a moment, she took it in her hand, a sad smile on her face.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry how you always got abused back then. Everyone was always stepping all over you or turning their head and looking the other way while it…" Furrball squeezed Emily's hand, stopping her tirade before it started. He shook his head and smiled, causing Emily to squeeze back. The cat dug into his sandwich as Emily watched. He gave Freddie a grin before he washed the meal away with the drink.

"Now that that's all settled, shall we get down to business, Furrball?"

Furrball looked at Emily quizzically. What could he have to offer her?

"You're an incredible musician. Can you read music?"

Furrball shook his head. The very thought of playing something that wasn't of his own devise… "Not your style, eh?" Emily finished his thought, reading his mind. Furrball smirked, looking down.

"I guess that rules the local symphony orchestra out, but how's about playing here at the club on the weekends? Tips would be great and you can stay in the apartment upstairs." Furrball

gave the woman a nervous glance, causing Emily to chuckle.

"You can relax, Furrball. I know you're a cat, but I'm no cougar. Freddie moved in with his girlfriend's family a few weeks ago. It's just taking up space." Furrball sighed, considering the proposal.

"Hey Campa! Is Quino there?" Derrick mused from the front of the bar, talking to his cell. The two looked at him as he laughed aloud.

"So, we have a deal?" Emily stuck out her hand. Furrball shrugged, shaking it.

"Why don't you make yourself comfortable upstairs, then? Looks like you slept in a subway station!"

-End Part 1 of 4-