6. Myopic Restitutions

Koyangi Quest Episode 07

Thick layers of gray rolling hills cover the landscape as far as the eye can see, partially masked by a dense fog which eerily glows in the crescent moonlight. A dull campfire crackles, whining for more fuel as its smoke integrates itself into the hazy sky. The night-blue cat's right eye shines fiercely as he glares at his companion, whose chattering teeth drown out the sizzle of the fire.

TOSHI

Don't b-b-b-blame me! I told you I was n-n-no

good sleeping under the s-s-stars! Can't we just

put a couple of more logs on the fire?

Toshi sighs, not bothering to look at the inevitable shaking of the cat's head. Being so close to enemy territory, they can't risk giving away their position any more than necessary. The cat's glare doesn't soften.

TOSHI

No disrespect to your master

or anything, but aren't there

competent blacksmiths everywhere?

Why are we risking life and limb just for one-

The blue cat's eyes shift towards the east and he unsheathes his blade, causing Toshi's complaint to stop in mid-sentence. As the cat ducks into a crouching position, Toshi grips his daggers tightly, eyes darting around, trying to catch a glimpse of the intruders.

"Welcome. Welcome! So good of you to come. Come in, please."

Furrball let his fiancé take the lead in this venture, having zero experience in making a house visit before…as an equal, anyway.

"Merci, Docteur Alva. Nous didn't want to be being any trouble, knowing this is such a trying time for vous and your family," Fifi asserted as Furrball coaxed young Sparkz into the house, trying his best not to push him too far.

"Ah, Fifi. Your French … I'd almost forgotten you were from Paris," Dr. Alva said. "My wife, she's at work, but she's from Normandy originally."

"Oh vraiment? We should get together sometime. I've so missed having a nice chat in my mother tongue," Fifi replied, half-lying. Furrball smiled at this, reading her intonation correctly. Dr. Alva then turned his attention to the blue cat.

"Furrball, your reputation precedes you. You are most welcome here in my home." The man gave Furrball a brisk handshake and the feline reciprocated, not sensing any phony formalities in the man's voice.

"And this must be Sparkz, right?"

Sparkz clung to Furrball's pants leg, squeezing his eyes shut.

"I'm sorry, he's-" Dr. Alva waved his hand, stopping Fifi's apology in mid-sentence.

"I completely understand. I am a vet, you know?"

Fifi and Furrball watched as Dr. Alva knelt a few feet away from Sparkz and grinned.

Milo tells me you're a little ball of fire.

Sparkz peeked out from behind his dad thoroughly confused. A human speaking Catonese went completely beyond his comprehension abilities. He blinked a few times and stared intently at the man.

He's told me about your past dealings with people too. I assure you I'm not one of them, but I do want to apologize on behalf of my species. And with that, the man solemnly bowed his head.

Sparkz blinked a few more times then sniffed. Loosening his grip, he haphazardly approached the person on all fours and knelt in front of him for a moment. Their eyes locked for a split second before Sparkz lost interest and started to investigate his surroundings more.

"I'm afraid that's all you're going to get from him, though he really seems to like you," Furrball broke his original vow to hold his tongue, seeing as how the man had taken the time and consideration to learn and use Catonese. It was the least he could do.

Milo is in the den. I'm sure you can find him. Dr. Alva informed Sparkz. The kitten nodded solemnly and disappeared out of the room in search of his only friend, leaving the adults in the foyer.

"Not that it's really any help, but I have to tell you. I think Sparkz's red eye isn't a birth defect," Dr. Alva observed. "When I was on assignment in Rio, I came across this optic nerve disease…. The locals called it "Olho do Caçador". Hunter's eye."

The concerned parents exchanged glances before the expert.

"Is it going to…"

"Not to worry… Basically it means that eye sees infrared. Most of us humans would pay top dollar for such an ability."

The ride home wasn't exactly a walk in the park for anyone. Fifi kept her eyes on the road, but couldn't help but glance at the kitten with the rear view mirror. Sparkz seemed incredibly despondent after seeing and inevitably speaking with his only friend.

To her right, things weren't looking up at all. Furrball seemed to be rather dejected after meeting Dr. Alva. Fifi could only guess the source of his gloominess was that he'd finally met a human that didn't fit the stereotype of the ones he normally dealt with; the ones who took in so-called 'pets'. The whole idea just seemed vexing, especially making a house call as equals...

"It's green."

Fifi blinked a few times looking at Furrball in surprise. He smiled softly. Catching her bearings the skunk accelerated, making the turnoff to their street.

"You okay?" Furrball inquired.

Fifi smiled. That was her line. "Yeah," she declared, eyes forward. "Just thinking about somethin'."

"Try thinking out loud once in a while. It makes the world seem less lonely."

Fifi's ears could barely register the words, coming from the blue feline. Was he really giving her advice about opening up?

"That Dr. Alva's a nice man, isn't he?"

Furrball smiled, touching his fiancé's shoulder. "Sure is," he agreed.

He talk funny.

The adults turned their attention to the back seat.

"It speaks!" Fifi joked. Furrball couldn't hold in the laughter.

We all talk funny, Sparkz.

Fifi turned her attention back to Furrball. "He said something about telling a joke and you said everyone jokes?"

Furrball grinned, impressed. She was really taking to her Catonese lessons. "Really close," he encouraged. "He said Dr. Alva talks funny and I said we all do."

Fifi turned into their driveway and stopped the car. As per usual, Sparkz jumped out the window and scurried into the townhouse via the roof.

"He's gonna have to stop doin' that in broad daylight," the older cat observed. As he reached for the door, he felt a warm paw atop his. Grinning, Furrball turned, anticipating an invitation, but stopped, seeing the solemn expression on his lover's face.

"The church is going to feel a bit empty," Fifi asserted, looking down.

The cat was oblivious. "We RSVP'd everyone you know. Right? The whole school's comin'…" Reality slapped the feline upside the head and he grew quiet with the sudden realization.

"You've never even really spoke about your parents before…" he tried.

"Mom passed on about four years ago," the skunk began, exhaling heavily, as if this was the first time she'd ever spoken the words.

Furrball wasn't sure how to respond. 'I'm sorry' seemed so trite. Before he could stop himself, he'd already kissed her on the cheek. The two interlocked paws and sat still for a moment.

"Your dad…?" he was unsure of how to approach this, based on Hampton's revelation at the reunion, but not asking might lead to suspicion. Fifi squeezed his paw and looked out the window.

"He's in Haiti. He said he'd send some money our way, but he definitely won't be showing up. He's what you'd call 'old fashioned'. Kinda like my psycho aunt. Understand?"

Furrball's paw immediately touched his back at the spot where the butcher knife's handle had struck him.

"I'm sorry," he couldn't help it.

Fifi looked at the cat like he was crazy. "On my suggestion to go to my aunt's house and she tries to kill you, you're sorry?"

Furrball shrugged. "I'm sorry there's so little tolerance and so much ignorance around us. I can't say that I never contributed to it and karma's a vengeful lady."

Fifi produced a small photo from her wallet and placed it in the cat's paws, unable to comment on his articulation. Furrball studied the photo for a moment. Something familiar spiked through his head, but he lost the thought before he could wrapped his mind around it.

"Who is this?" he pointed to the squirrel in the picture.

"I have no idea. It's just… a real father wouldn't resent his daughter so much…"

At that moment Furrball realized that 2+2 doesn't equal 7.

"You think he's…"

"I found this among my mom's stuff when I was cleaning out her apartment. It was hidden pretty well and I just happened upon it during my last sweep. It's possible that this might've been my real fa…th-"

Fifi grabbed her knees as an icy feeling surged through her body. Furrball pried her from her curled up position and embraced her almost crushing her with his hug. They stayed like that until the skunk's silent tears dried in the cat's blue fur.

…

At Fifi's insistence, Furrball researched his father's surnames to see if he could find any living relatives anywhere. As the cat entered the living room with the manila folder in hand, Fifi could tell the news was rather grim.

"Well, the good news is, I've got three uncles all the same age as my dad would've been, alive and well in Sao Paulo," Furrball began, his faux cheeriness leaving as he completed the thought.

…

"Go ahead," Fifi encouraged.

"Well, the problem is they're alive and well in a maximum security prison in Sao Paulo."

Fifi dropped her newspaper and looked into Furrball's eyes. There was no real indication of any emotion, yet his tone was bordering destitution.

"Defying convention sure is a lonely path," it was barely a whisper. "Would you shred that for me?"

Furrball turned away and blew his nose as Fifi put the papers into the shredder. When the sound was over, he turned back around.

"So who's your maid of honor gonna be? Have you decided?" Fifi could tell he was forcing it, but complied nonetheless.

"Shirley's gonna do it. It's like she's more excited than me if that's even possible. Wants to make sure every detail is perfect or something. Considering what happened to her and Plucky…"

"Yeah, is that going to be a problem that they're both gonna be there?"

"I don't think so… It wasn't a messy divorce or anything. They just didn't …click."

The two exchanged glances… Both Shirley and Plucky suffered from excessive personality disorder. Made perfect sense that it wouldn't work out. Unlike them…

"And the best man?"

"Oh right! Dizzy can't make it to the States until the day of the wedding, so I asked Calamity…"

At the mention of "Calamity" Fifi started to sweat. Furrball didn't notice and continued.

"He "said" okay, so I guess he's going to be organizing the bachelor party and such."

Fifi glared at Furrball at the mention of "Bachelor party".

"Hey, don't be like that. I'm not gonna do anything. It's for the other guys. Besides, you're having a bachelorette party as well, aren't you?"

The skunk's expression softened slightly.

"Let's just agree not to talk about that night afterwards, alright?"

The cat nodded.

The bass was thumping, bumping in the kind of way that made the sober ones worry about the fact that they could feel their internal organs rattling to the beat. Of course by this time, not too many of the patrons weren't drunk.

Calamity had found his niche at the ones and twos for a while, relieving the hired DJ for a lunch break. The coyote's techno-savvy brain was the ideal operating device for the mixers and audio equipment. As he let loose on the system few had the restraint necessary to keep from throwing their bodies around like morons on the dance floor.

Furrball nursed his Long Island Iced Tea at the bar, exhausted from showing Plucky earlier that he was more than capable of crunkin' and breakin'. Taking in the scene, the cat was amazed at himself for not simply being the wallflower he'd been comfortable as at the Looniversity. Truth be told, he'd been dreading the bachelor party moreso than his last boxing match. He was pleased to know that his expectations had been wrong.

As Calamity's fifteen-minute mix came to a close, he was too exhausted to acknowledge the wild applause from old classmates and other patrons alike. He smirked at the fact that he found this work to be particularly easy in comparism to his inventions that never really got the praise they deserved. As the regular DJ returned from his break, Calamity dropped down to the dance floor, maneuvering past the labyrinth of bodies to the bar, welcomed by Furrball's thumbs up. The coyote gave the cat a fist pound and tapped the bar, pointing the bartender in the direction of a bottle of Everclear.

"You sure 'bout that, hon?" the barkeep said, frowning. "A rabbit's bourbon is a coyote's 151."

Calamity smirked and typed "1-9-0" on the barkeep's calculator. She looked at the screen and laughed.

"Yeah right. I could lose my license."

"For selling the stuff, or hiding the 190 in the 151 bottles?" Furrball remarked, grinning devilishly. The barkeep's eyes widened.

"H-h-how'd y-you…."

Calamity pointed to his muzzle.

"The nose knows," Furrball laughed, slapping his compadre on the back.

Discreetly pouring Calamity the drink, the barkeep hurried to the other side to wait on other patrons. Furrball raised his glass to Calamity's and the two toasted the occasion. The coyote wheezed after downing his forbidden fruit in a single shot and his eyes started to glaze over.

"Hey, what was all that about?" Furrball grabbed the glass from Calamity and caught him just before he fell over. Calamity's eyes were spinning the way they used to do in his shorts. Not a good sign.

"Let's get you some fresh air for a bit," the cat asserted dropping some cash on the counter as he led Calamity to the veranda.

"Hey! Man, you disrespecting me? Take 'em out!"

Furrball glanced over at a trashed green mallard at the karaoke machine, accompanied as always by his sidekick pig. Ridiculous.

"How do you screw up an Offspring song?" he mused.

Calamity took a deep breath of fresh air outside. He tried to get a grip on his bearings and eventually settled for leaning against the bricks. The night sky was too filled with light pollution for any stars to be visible; a pity indeed, for they were truly a sight to behold from the desert sky. Furrball crouched near the railing, watching the cars speed by. He, himself had been mesmerized by the autos' flashing lights in the night, growing up on the streets.

"Anyone that drinks like that," Furrball turned to face the coyote. "Is drinkin' to punish or forget. Which is it with you?"

Calamity slowly raised his paw and held up three fingers, avoiding eye contact with the cat, as per usual.

"Both?" Furrball mused. Calamity nodded solemnly.

The two sat still for a moment, letting the summer breeze blew by, not wanting their "conversation" to be passed along to foreign ears. Furrball watched as Calamity opened up his PDA, producing a set of headphones he offered to him. Bemused, Furrball put the headphones on as the young genius plugged the jack into the PDA. The device's text-to speech voice sounded strikingly close to Wile E.'s.

I gotta get this out of my system while I still have booze in it.

Furrball looked at Calamity intently, having no idea what could be on the coyote's mind.

You know, I always had an eye on you back in school.

The cat's face drew a blank.

I guess it was easy to do. You seemed to be generally oblivious to everyone outside your immediate path.

"So…why?"

I dunno… Calamity's cheeks turned beet red as he typed. I think I was always kinda… you know.

Furrball was racking his brain trying to make sense of the garbled words. Finally a light hit his eyes and a landslide of thoughts and memories filled his head as his eyes turned from the ground to the coyote. "M-me?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

Yeah. I think so. The coyote sheepishly looked away.

An ambulance's siren interrupted the moment. A welcome distraction for the awkwardness of the situation. When all was quiet again, the two locked eyes once more.

"I owe you my life for bustin' me out of the pen…" Furrball began. "I wouldn't be getting married if it wasn't for you… I wouldn't be any different than when I was growing up if our paths hadn't crossed again…" Furrball's voice trailed off as he started to choke.

You don't have to force it. I already know.

"I'm sorry, Calamity… I had no idea…" the cat breathed. "I just… I don't feel the same wa-"

You don't need to tell me that! Calamity mashed the keys like he was pissed off at an invention for not working correctly. You think I wanted to have those feelings? Well they just showed up one day and stayed in the back of my mind like a splinter you can't see… I didn't even know until it was too late to… The coyote stopped typing, done with the thought.

Furrball watched a tear fall, like it was in slow motion. Stared at it as it splashed the pavement, exploding into a million droplets. Felt a guilt that was indescribable.

It's no one's fault. It's just how things are. How they had to be.

The two sat in a stream of silence once again reflecting of the revelations. The feline broke the stillness.

"So you with Fifi was…"

Calamity snapped to attention at a loss for words at first.

Like I said, I didn't know what I was doing when I was watching you… So I didn't know that I was that way. So when I bumped into Fifi in Fresno, I figured that I'd forget about it…you, the feelings, everything.

"Did it work?"
Calamity grinned, his teeth flashing in a neon light. At first, yeah.

"What happened?"

…Nothing. Not until I saw you again.

"Huh?"

If you have to ask, you don't need to know. We'll leave it at that.

Furrball's eyebrow raised, still unaware of the awkward direction of the coyote's recent sentiments. They both took another moment to let the words sink in.

"I want you to do something for me, Calamity," the feline spoke suddenly as if possessed. "I want you to give up and accept yourself for who you are, whatever that makes you."

The coyote cocked his head.

"Maybe when you accept what you are, you can get over your feelings, me or whatever and you can get on with what you're meant to be doing. Because brooding over your fate or your nature isn't going to lead ya to your destiny."

Calamity gave the cat a sobering look.

"You might even be able to find your voice if you can do that." With that, Furrball stood up. "C'mon. It's getting' cold."

I'll catch up. Calamity retrieved the headphones from Furrball, and the cat went back to the party.

"Meep meep meemeep meep mee meep?"

Furrball eyed the roadrunner, clearly annoyed with the question.

"Leaveitalone," the cat muttered, making his way back to the bar.

Waiting for him at the bar were some more familiar and equally concerned faces.

"Everything… okay, Furrball?" Hamton's voice dripped with concern as usual, but this time with actual cause for alarm. The cat shrugged, pounding on the bar, motioning for another drink.

"Say, don't you think you've had enough for one night?"

The cat eyed the rabbit with disdain, not appreciating the reproachful tone. Buster, as expected, remained adamant.

"Whatever it is, wouldn't it be better to talk about it rather than drown it out?"

Before he could down the shot, Furrball stopped, the words resonating for a moment.

"Give 'em a break Buster," Plucky butted in, coming up to the table, brandishing his own liquid courage. "Can't you see Cal cryin' like a little girl out there? Ol' Furrball probably had to break the news that he wasn't a fa-"

Furrball tossed the glass, shattering it, along with a dozen or so bottles into a billion pieces.

Plucky swallowed hard, the action not quite sobering him up. "Don't worry, bud. It's not like he wasn't obvious all these year or nothi—"

Furrball spun around, an unholy terror. For a split second, his pupils weren't visible as he balled up his fist. Swinging with all his might, the cat regained control just in time to stop himself from killing for the second time. Plucky swallowed hard as the air blasted past his face for a moment, realizing how close he had come to being a victim of a train wreck.

"Put it all on my tab, and enjoy yourselves," the cat declared, striding towards the exit. His party was over.

"Alright, so like we know you wouldn't have gone along with it if you knew, but we've got a surprise for you, Fifi!" The hippie duck was never without an excess of jubilation in her system.

Fifi sensed discord in the air as the music was amplified. She threw a quick smile at her friends, but secretly longed for the night to be over, as she hated surprises moreso than her fiancé did. All of a sudden, the lights went out as the dry ice machines kicked a thick cloud of fog over the dance floor. Right Said Fred cued just on time.

"I'm too sexy for my love…"

The lights were up and the squeals and screams commenced as a vaguely familiar face lip synched and danced to the one-hit wonder as he threw off his leather jacket. No one seemed to notice the look of shock and horror on Fifi's face as the blue skunk strutted his way around the room, working the crowd, frequently eyeing her with predatory intentions.

As the song ended, Johnny was right there in front of Fifi, wearing little more than his faded jeans.

"If you'll excuse me a minute ladies," the only male in the room announced. "Johnny Pew's gotta a little private session with the number one bachelorette in the VIP lounge."

Fifi glanced uneasily at Shirley, who playfully slugged her on the shoulder.

"Trust me, girl," The slightly inebriated waterfowl began. "You're never gonna have this chance again."

Fifi giggled nervously, scanning the room for Babs as Johnny started to lead her away. Babs was preoccupied by her cell, probably talking with Buster. The older skunk wrapped his arm around Fifi as the two entered the VIP room. Johnny was quick to lock the door behind him, much to the dismay of the rest of the bunch.

Fifi stood very still, refusing to face the former movie star. This amused Johnny greatly, as he chuckled, a hint of mischief in his voice.

"Why're you here?" Fifi demanded, having lost her patience for Johnny's theatrics years ago. Suddenly, the skunkette felt a sharp pain in her backside that sent her crashing to the floor. Spinning onto her back, Fifi stared wide-eyed at the older skunk as he offered her his paw.

"I told you I'd get you back for kicking me all those years ago… when you least expected it."

"That's why you came all the way…"

"Not in the least." All humor and amusement drained from the blue skunk's tone. "Bimbette, she's in delicate condition currently. I need you to sub in for a couple of months."

"…Go screw yourself." Though she'd meant it, Fifi worried about the consequences of defiance. She dreaded seeing the skunk's lips mold into a sadistically evil grin.

"I'm sure you'll want to reconsider," he sang pulling out his cell phone.

…

It was faint, but stirred nostalgic feelings nonetheless. The random shots of air emanating from the cool concrete. As a kitten, he'd spent most of his nights running from (or chasing depending on the weather) this phenomenon, which only occurred in the late summer. Furrball sighed. No real fond memories would accompany this recollection, though plenty of old scars began to ache on his body for some reason.

Rounding the corner, the feline froze in his tracks. Taking semi-cover behind a streetlight, the cat watched for a shadow and waited. In his younger days, he could sense a prowler a mile away. The cat silently cursed himself as he waited, hoping to get the drop on his shadow. The alcohol hadn't yet left his system, so he'd need his first strike to be brutal, as its speed wouldn't be up to snuff.

As he expected, a long shadow gradually subsided from around the corner and just as it was out of sight, Furrball jolted forward, going straight for the jugular. Before he could crush his pursuer's windpipe, the feline stopped to find a certain coyote struggling to breathe before him. Furrball relaxed his grip, then pushed away, walking over to the curb and plopped down. Calamity meekly joined him, now alert from his near-death experience. The cat nodded at him, retrieving the earphones once more, equally sobered.

"…so Fresno…?" Furrball broke the ice for once.

Calamity gave the cat a shocked expression for a second, momentarily forgetting his earlier gut-spilling session. He hesitated before typing.

It was strange. I was going down in an elevator and she seemed to be waiting to go up. Soon as we made eye contact as I was getting out, she grabbed my arm and followed me out.

Furrball scratched his head, the words failing to make sense to him. "So she was staying there or something?"

I don't think so, because I was on my way to Ohio and she insisted on driving me there.

"You didn't find that odd?"

Of course I did. I kept asking her why she was there, wanted to leave California so bad and fast and why she was all dressed up that night.

"Dressed up?" the cat cocked his head.

Made me feel…Calamity blushed, smiling as he recalled the moment. Furrball snapped a couple of times, getting him back on track.

"And she never answered you for the whole six months?"

Just mumbled something about work being slow.

"Huh." Furrball stood up, finished with the inquisition. "I'm gonna walk home. See ya Saturday, right?"

Calamity smirked and nodded. He watched as the cat took a couple of steps into the darkness, then stopped, not turning around.

"Kinda strange that you'd come all this way just to tell me you met Fifi in an elevator…" Furrball continued walking, no indication that he was anticipating or in need of a response.

The coyote slowly rose to his feet, hurt by the implications, but moreso by the truth behind them. He watched with remorse as the cat turned the corner, disappearing from his sight. All of a sudden, the coyote heard the unmistakable sound of tires screeching to a halt around the same corner Furrball had disappeared in.

"HURRY IT UP!"

Calamity sprinted to the corner, unfamiliar with the voice. As he peeked around the side of the building his blood ran cold. Furrball was lying on the street in a pool of what appeared to be blood while a white van revved its engine next to him. Without warning, the back door shot open and a baseball bat crashed over the cat's spine for good measure. Whatever resistance was left in Furrball subsided when two huge paws scooped him into the van. As the door shut again, Calamity had the presence of mind to laze the vehicle with the GPS tracker on his PDA. The van spun off into the night and the coyote searched desperately for a car to jack.

…

"DON'T let 'im SEE your FACE!"

Blink.

"SHUT up CHESTER! He MIGHT recognize YOUR voice."

Blink, blink.

"HOW could HE? But YOU just USED my NAME, Spike."

"HE'S coming TO! Think he HEARD us?"

Groan.

"WHO cares? JUST smack him UPSIDE the HEAD a FEW times."

"JOHNNY said WE gotta LET him LIVE long ENOUGH for THE plan TO work."

"WHATEVER."

…

"Cellular phones these days," Johnny giggled, shaking his head. "Such ingenuity." He continued, pacing around the room, making Fifi all the more uneasy. To ensure the meeting wouldn't be rudely interrupted, the blue skunk had used his natural deterrent on the doorframe; crude and albeit hard on the nose, but a necessity. The stench alone was enough to make Fifi sick, having long since abandoned said method, but Johnny's tricks were always more than enough to keep her on edge.

"Did you know you can go on the internet with the latest models?" Johnny continued, approaching Fifi with confidence. "And look at this!" he sneered, producing his phone screen. "Video calls."

…

Whether it was the impact of the crash, the loss of blood, rolling around in the back of an empty conversion van with a horrible driver behind the wheel or a combination of all of the above, Furrball's head was spinning faster than a top. His senses told him he was in a world of trouble, but offered little other information that would assist him in getting out of it. Additionally, his body refused to respond correctly to his demands… particularly his eyes, which just wouldn't focus correctly. He could tell they were dogs, two of them, but not much else. As the cat attempted for the one-hundredth time to steady his thoughts as well as his breathing, the van came to a halt. The dogs exited from the front, leaving the feline alone for a brief moment. Whatever he should have done with that second of solitude soon became irrelevant to the present as the back door opened abruptly and the same paws squeezed over his tail and right leg, tossing Furrball to the empty parking lot.

The only streetlight was nearing its last leg as it blinked and fizzled. The dogs were standing over him, snickering, but Furrball was relieved to have visual confirmation that there were only two of them. As soon as his body started listening to him again, he could…

*CRACK*

"Hey, let me at least answer the phone first!" The smaller dog took a step back, pointing a phone in his direction. "Sorry, cat. We're gonna need to do a do-over."

Furrball was in no position to protest as the larger dog picked the bat up off of his shoulder and prepared to strike again as a ringtone filled the night.

"Hiya Johnny! Ya getting' this?"

"Loud and clear," the voice on the receiver was unfamiliar to the blue cat. "Do it again, won't ya?"

…

Fifi couldn't stop the tears from pouring in front of the malicious skunk.

"Why're you doing this?" she screamed, as the screen showed Spike kicking Furrball in the ribs. Johnny grinned, taking a moment to savor Fifi's vulnerability as well as Furrball's helplessness as Spike cracked the bat on his elbow.

"I already told you, girlie. I need someone to fill in for Bimbette for a few months. She's pregnant." Fifi eyed the skunk with contempt, covering her eyes as Furrball received another blow to the spine.

"Easy on the backbone, Chester," Johnny ordered, causing Fifi to look at his face. He grinned at her before continuing. "We don't want our bargaining chip expiring, do we?" Johnny turned his attention back to Fifi, a face doused in pure evil. "One more smash on the spinal cord and he's a cripple. Two more and you're getting married in the morgue."

Fifi flopped down on the floor, the words resonating in her head.

"Hold up a minute, Chester," Johnny ordered, kneeling in front of the purple skunk.

"You know, it's not my kid. Just an occupational hazard of sorts, okay?"

"I thought it was just an escort service," Fifi managed.

"Then why'd you skip out of your first job?" Johnny challenged, his face contorted in anger for a moment before he relaxed. "You know I have a reputation to uphold. When you found out you couldn't make it in the movie business on your own, you came crawling to me back then. What changed with you that you're too good to be a call girl anymore?"
"I never WAS a call girl!"

"Then why'd you come to me in the first place?"
"I didn't want to go back HOME!" Fifi screamed, kicking the air.

Johnny smiled slyly, facing the phone screen again.

"Oh Chester…"

"Stop!" Fifi shouted lunging for the phone. Johnny dodged at the last second.

"Say the words, girlie."

"Okay… a few months. Just leave Furrball alone, already!"

Johnny turned his attention back to the phone.

"You heard the girl. Let him go."

Fifi was too distraught to see Johnny wink at the camera.

"Just let me get a couple of things together before we go." Fifi begged.

"Of course," Johnny replied. "I'm not unreasonable."

…

"Ugh, he's a real mess, isn't he?"

"Whadda we do with 'im?"

"Drive 'em to the hospital and send a picture to Johnny. When he gets out, we're supposed to take 'im out. Don't want him getting any ideas or anything."

Furrball's ears were the only organs that worked properly. The dogs might have noticed them twitching, but every other part of his body was twitching for that matter. He stayed flaccid for the drive to the hospital up until the dogs threw him out of the van and took a picture. As soon as the van was out of sight, an F-150 rolled up in front of the cat. Furrball was too tired to turn his neck to see who was there. Too tired to care that he was being gently lifted into the stretcher. Too out of it to recognize the huge explosion in the distance.

"No."

Calamity stopped, his sensitive ears picking up the sound of the cat's voice.

"Take me home, okay?" Furrball's mind was forcing itself to be coherent.

Calamity started to shake his head and head into the ER.

"Fifi…" Furrball's voice trailed off as he tried not to slip out of consciousness.

Calamity understood. The attack had to be connected to her somehow. Reluctantly, seeing the state of the feline, Calamity placed Furrball into the truck bed and headed for his home.

…

"Let go of my arm, will you?" Fifi walked as fast as she could to the door as the blue skunk kept a death grip on her wrist.

"Now, now… don't want you getting any ideas, do we?" Johnny retorted, sneering at the purple skunk.

Fifi rolled her eyes as she opened the front door and froze in her tracks, her eyes following the trail of blood on the floor to the source, standing like a zombie in a pool of it.

Furrball's eyes being glazed over notwithstanding, glowed like embers as they finally focused; landing on the blue skunk's grip.

Let her go.

Fifi shook her arm free as Johnny was infinitely more shocked at the cat's presence than she was.

"That means get the hell off me!" Fifi screamed, running towards her lover. Before she could embrace the cat, the blue skunk recovered, shoving her out of the way. Gave Furrball a long look over.

"You're in a state to be making orders, aren't ya?" The skunk challenged. Furrball's ears twitched in recognition of the voice on the phone. Stretching his arm for good measure, Johnny backhanded the cat in the face, sending him crumbling to the floor, his fur soaking up the blood.

"Pimp slapped you like any one of my girlies, including this one." Johnny laughed, pointing at Fifi. Furrball's eyes followed his hand to find Fifi on her knees, wearing a look that made his heart sink. As Johnny took a step closer to the cat, an unexpected challenger stepped out of the shadows.

Sparkz's eyes remained closed as he sniffed around for a moment eventually dodging his father to stand between the blue cat and the blue skunk. Opening his eyes, the kitten crouched slightly, partially covering his own muzzle.

You need a shower.

Instead of shouting at his son to get back, Furrball couldn't help but laugh, his ribs aching as he did so. Sparkz pounced forward, trying his best to fight on the correct side, as Professor Sly taught him, but there was only so much a young one could do against an adult with no regard for life. As Sparkz was tossed head first into a glass lamp, Furrball slipped in his own blood trying to get up again. Fifi attempted to break a vase over Johnny's head, but the skunk dodged at the last second, grabbing her in a stranglehold.

As Johnny opened the front door, he was still facing Furrball, so the sight of two red nosed, red eyed predators scowling at him from the threshold took a bit of time to have the proper effect as he bumped right into Sylvester.

Slowly turning around, Johnny felt Calamity break his grip on Fifi and then, inevitably, Sylvester broke his arm in three places.

As Calamity reached for his phone, Sylvester stopped him, restraining the skunk from behind, nearly throttling him.

"No cops," Sylvester ordered, smirking. Turning to Fifi and Furrball, he smiled one of his rare smiles. "But he's never gonna bother you again."

Sylvester tried to contain his evil laughter as he stuffed Johnny into his car trunk and then all was quiet once more.

Furrball, seeing his son stirring and the threat gone lay down, a peaceful smile plastered on his face. Then it all went black as the adrenaline faded.

End- Part 6

…Romantic ceremony, anyone? -_-