(((Some of this was actually written for chapter previous. I ended up putting it in this one because I was jumping ahead of myself. That, and chapter 19 is titled: The Tragedy. Can't very well have any uplifting content in something like that. Anywell, I'm writing again. That's something.

Merry Christmas.

Sonic: damnit, I'm being neglected again.

Tails: HATE it when this happens. Main characters not even mentioned for CHAPTERS. PLURAL.

A: ::ignores them:: don't you love how the plot's progressing? ^___^

(((Aeyvi does not own Sonic things))

Chapter 20- La Belette et le Chat
(The Weasel and the Cat)

Still no sign of Nikki.

It must have been a week since I had seen her. Felt like it. Out of money, out of gas. I'd already been kicked out of the motel for overstaying without paying. This city is full of slim pikins and that's about it. Security's too tight on most stores- even the fucking drug stores and gas stations. Cops every-fuckin-where. It looked like I might actually have to get a job.

I picked another pocket on my way back to my alley, and the wallet had three bucks in it. Not enough to get me ten feet out of this city. Does no one carry a credit card in this place? Or even more than five bucks at a time? It's ludicrous.

I slumped next to my bike on a puce yoga mat I'd found in a dumpster. It smelled vaguely of patchouli and some odd cheese. I missed Nikki. She was good at scrounging up cash in a pinch. She could look so pitiful while making up some story about not being able to pay for bus fare home from the library or something equally well-thought out. One look at me and most people shy away.

The jeans I'd snagged from a neglected shopping bag were already fraying at the knees, and I still couldn't find a decent shirt. It had been rainy and cold, and newspapers weren't very good shelter. Miserable is a good word to sum up the alley days of my life.

The only plus was that I'd managed to find a dealer… and snag a baggie of something from his pocket when he was distracted. Looked like pot. Too bad I didn't have any papers. Go fucking figure.

I gnawed on my last piece of jerky and considered what I might put on a job application.

Then, my ears picked up familiar footsteps making their way into my alley. I drew my gun and used a shard of mirror to peek around the dumpster.

I got a glimpse of her raising her gun and the mirror in my hand shattered. Bleeding fuck, that hurt. The bullet missed me, but shards of glass were buried in my palm. My glove, obviously, was ruined. I bit back a scream of anguish, dropping my gun and clutching my wrist. I needed a tourniquet. There was glass in some major artery or vein or fuck who knows what. I was gushing blood.

She sauntered over and stood before me. I glared at her shoes, the rim of my hat obscuring her view of my face. I tried to blink away a couple stray tears. Damnit, I couldn't help it, alright? You get sliced in the hand, see how you like it.

"Désolé." I could hear her smirking, whatever the hell she'd just said. She snatched my hat off my head and dragged me to my knees by my ears, loosing the scab from the bullet graze of three days ago and making me bleed from there too. Didn't even feel it. My hand was a hot red ball of agony.

I felt the baggie break in my pocket since the jeans were so tight. I had an urge to eat some of the stuff, maybe it would dull the pain and give me a few moments of happy release before she killed me.

She strode around me, dragging the barrel of her gun along my shoulders, then across my chest.

"What am I to do with you, mon Belette? You are no use. You are a common thief. You are refuse and filth. You make us look very bad, mon ami. If you are to steal, you steal what is worth stealing. Petty crime is useless."

She stopped in front of me and squatted down on her haunches. She lifted my chin with two of her long, clawed fingers and looked into my eyes. My God, she was so beautiful. Her irises were a perfect shade of gold, speckled with copper around her almond pupils. Those beautiful eyes were comforting and merciless. Hot and icy cold. She smelled fantastic, too. Not like perfume… like that… that sweet woman-smell. Musky and sweet and… yummy. Damned if I wasn't getting a hard-on before I died.

I saw her little tan cat nose flare too. I almost laughed, it was cute. Blood loss was making me loopy, and I grinned. We were like two primitive animals, sniffing at each other.

But, as it turned out, it wasn't me she smelled.

I saw her reaching for my pants and for a minute, I thought she was going for my goods. I didn't know whether to be frightened or… well, excited. She was going for my right pocket (not the other thing, which happened to be poking up to the right… that general area) and pulled out the baggie. Her finger grazed the tip of my… you know… and it felt mildly nice. I was going cold and numb by then. Some of the stuff scattered into the pool of blood I was sitting in, and a breeze made quite a bit of it fly into my fur and face.

Weirdest goddamn thing happened next. She started rubbing her face in the bag and purring loudly. She dropped her gun and nuzzled that bag like it was some long lost boyfriend.

Catnip. I nabbed a bag of fucking 'nip. Whatever good it would have done me, I don't know. Glad I didn't try to smoke it. And there wasn't even that much left in there, most of it sprinkled onto me, the ground and… and the majority was still in my pocket.

I grasped some sanity and scooted back to my mat while she was distracted, ripping off the hem of a pantleg and using a rusted metal spike to make a crude tourniquet. If I'd known 'nip did this, I would have found some days ago. Maybe things would've turned out differently. I had pulled out the worst of the glass when she dropped the bag and began licking her fingers. She looked at me with fully dilated eyes, little nose flaring rhythmically again.

"Shit…"

I reached for my gun, but it was too far away and I didn't have the strength left. She crawled towards me on all fours, tail swishing. Then she coiled, swayed that adorable little ass twice, and pounced.

She began licking my face all over, her rough sandpaper tongue made my skin tingle like hell. She moved down my neck, cleaned my chest, my stomach… needless to say my erection was back with a vengeance. God… this was so hot. I gained a little courage, grabbing her under the arms and pulling her back up my body. I managed to unbutton her blouse and tug her black bra down a bit… revealing pert, candy-pink nipples… before she began kneading at my pocket and purring obliviously. I admired her for a bit, she was a perfect specimen of female feline. Her thin, silky tail swayed hypnotically back and forth. I started to zone out, all my attention on that tuft of creamy fur at the end of her tail.

I realized then that bloodloss was taking me down. I fought to stay alert… blacking out could mean the end, at that point. I pushed her back, trying to get her attention. "Hey, sweetie..." and then I noticed a glitter of gold. There was a pendant around her neck, looked like an oblong coin with horizontal lines on it. Moraé was etched in cursive diagonally down its length.

"Moraé? Is that your name?"

She looked me in the eyes for a moment, pupils contracting slightly. It looked like the name hit home.

"It's a pretty name… Moraé…" I smiled. And in a miracle, she smiled back a little, tail twitching. Yeah, she was still high as a kite.

"Listen, Moraé, we need to get some shade, baby. You got any cash?" I checked her pockets, found a little card case. Plenty of charge plates… holy SHIT a black Mastercard!! Can you fucking believe it?? Tom fucking Cruise and that balding bastard Trump have black Mastercards!!! Along with that were some gold-edged black business cards, but I was in too much of a hurry to read what they said. I tucked her back into her bra- maybe a little ashamed of myself- and buttoned her shirt back up. She has closed her eyes in a happy little squint and was still purring. I dragged her to her feet with my good right hand.

"Can you stick close, kitten? Huh? Y'wake in there?" I opened one of her eyes gently, checking for lucidity. She was aware of me, at least, and licked my hand.

-

I had tucked both her and my guns into the rear pouch on Queenie, and with the eighth of a tank I had left we managed to get to a gas station, then a drug store for some bandages and disinfectant or whatnot. We crashed in a nice little hotel.

You learn how to stitch yourself back up in my line of business. Didn't take me very long to get the wound cleaned, closed and covered. I thought I might actually be able to use it in another week or so. As for Moraé, she was cuddling my pants on the bed. I was considerate and took them off for her. Heh heh.

And I'll tell you what, that hard on had come back to watch. There's just something about the way her body curves… the way her tail kept slithering back and forth on the satin sheets… the way she nipped and licked at those stupid pants…

To hell with my conscience. I slid off my shoes and belt, hopped on the bed with her and spread her onto her back. She grabbed my shoulders playfully and licked my collarbone. She didn't object when I undressed her. Sliding those tight jeans off her thighs was the hottest part. She had gone commando that morning. I leaned in to kiss the center of the delicate Y line made by her legs and sweet, sweet rosebud… when she grabbed the sides of my head with clawed hands and started gnawing on my ear. Kinda broke my concentration, there. I sat up and glared at her. She laid back and made little kitten-paws out of her hands, on either side of her head on the pillow. She had the most adorable look on her face. Like a playful pet. Her tail started hitting me in the side, apparently of its own accord.

I sighed. I couldn't do my deed while she was acting like a little kid. The mood was gone. I just scooted up next to her in bed and rested an arm over my eyes.

"See you tomorrow, kitten."

She just went back to smothering herself with my pants.

-0-

The white fox secretary fidgeted with her bracelet nervously. The Boss had kept his large doors closed all day. They had been that way since he had slammed them with a resounding boom several hours previous. She had jumped almost out of her own fur and nearly wet herself when that had happened. Ever since she heard about employees meeting "unfortunate accidents," she had been extremely on-edge. She had considered emailing her resignation, but felt faint thinking about the consequences of that action. Lately, three employees had gone absent without notice, and a fourth had failed to report that morning. The secretary had no real idea what it was the Boss' company really did, was never fully informed, and honestly didn't want to know. She was regretting taking the advice of a friend of a friend, and sending her resume to this very building. Well… it was a recession, after all. She couldn't turn up her nose at such a well-paying entry-level job with so little expected of her.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Meditation always made her feel better. She had begun the cool-down process, concentrating o the top of her head and working her way down her body (as the process goes) when there came a very loud shattering sound from within those huge, black double-doors. She yipped, shrinking in her chair and clapping her hands over her head defensively. She listened hard but heard nothing more.

She considered calling in using the P.A. on the desk. Her white index and middle fingers hovered hesitantly over the red bar-shaped button. Her pale blue eyes shifted from the device, to the wall, to the door, to the button again. She depressed it.

"Um… sir? Are you alright?"

No response.

"…. Sir? Can I get you anything?"

Silence.

She sat back and hugged herself for several minutes. It was always very cold on this floor. She was a little embarrassed that her winter coat had come in and it was still September. Usually she wasn't full-white till around Christmas. She wondered if maybe the Boss was suffering as well, or if he liked it this way.

Either way, he was keeping his peace… and that was making her nervous. Usually, he answered her. She knew she was strictly forbidden to disturb him when the doors were shut. She hadn't really even seen his face. She brought his coffee and his lunch trays only a few feet into his office, and he was usually turned around in his large, dark blue leather chair when she did this. His voice, the only thing she recognized him, was deep and velvety, with a touch of an accent she thought might be Russian. She mused on these things while she stared at the foreboding black wood of the doors. What harm could come of knocking on them?

She left her desk, stepping lightly to the doors. She lifted a dainty fist, hesitated, then knocked ever so gently.

"Sir?"

Still, no answer.

By the sound of that crash, he could be hurt. He could have had an attack of some kind. She had no clue as to how old the man was, or to his physical condition, so anything could be possible. In those situations, opening the doors would be perfectly fine- nay- expected of her. She had to make sure he was alright.

She still was wary of touching one of the ornate handles just yet. She laid one large, pointed ear to the blackened wood and listened. She distinctly heard a deep, low grinding sound. It came in pulses lasting several seconds, repeating itself over and over. It was a worrisome sound. It reminded her of what people called a death-rattle. She had never heard it herself, but this sound chilled her worse than the cold room around her. She was certain this sound meant death.

So, she opened the door.

The right door creaked lightly as she opened it slowly and peeked in. The room was dark, all windows save one tucked behind deepest navy velvet curtains. The one uncovered revealed a high, breathtaking noon view of downtown Station Square. There was a large chunk of glass missing, with spider-fractures reaching for the frame around it. Warm air issued in from the hole in the two-inch-thick panes.

His back was to her. She noted he was upright, but hunched, leaning against a large black bookcase. His black silk shirt was pushed back at the sleeve, revealing a white left arm dashed with thick dark blue stripes. Pink-white claws dug into the side panel of the bookcase, and it was now that she noticed the slashes in many of the curtains, in the wallpaper, in the plush carpet, his chair, his desk…

That deep grinding sound was much louder now, and the repetition of it increased in speed and pitch as his rounded cat-ears flicked back in her direction. That grinding sound was no death-rattle. It was a low, deadly feral growl. His long, thick, banded tail lashed in warning. She trembled, backing away from the door. She shrieked airily when he whirled around, fixing her with slit pupils.

"You opened the door." his voice carried that grinding growl with it. The girl's tail had bristled to a large poof and her ears were flattened to her head. She sank to her knees, eyes watering.

"I'm sorry, sir, I heard a crash and I thought you were hurt or something I never meant to bother you honestly sorry please I'm sorry plea-"

"I told you…" he flexed his claws slowly in and out of their sheathes, kneading the air at his sides. His cleft upper lip trembled over bright white fangs. "… not to open…"

"I know I know I'm sorry I'll go ok? I'll go and," she began to close the doors again, scooting back on her knees and grabbing the handles. He advanced swiftly, yanking the doors inward from her grip and spraining her wrist in the process. She emitted a single light shriek and cradled it, shrinking away as he leaned close to her. The loud, deep grinding filled her ears.

"… these doors."

She trembled violently, head bowed.

He stooped there a few moments, then rose, pulling a folded piece of grey paper from the breast pocket of his dress shirt. He tossed it at her, making her jolt a bit.

"Call that number, see if you can get her to answer."

"wh-"

"Get… up…" he started leaning down again. This got her to her feet.

"… go do your job. Call her till she answers."

She stood there, trembling in her now-damp blue dress, clutching the paper.

"I will not ask you again!" he roared. She dashed behind her desk, clutching the arm rest of her chair and crying on her knees.

"Silly twit." he muttered, and slammed the doors shut in front of him.

-0-

The black SUV pulled into the arched entryway at the base of the black skyscraper. A chameleon slid out the driver side door, a basilisk lizard out the passenger door, a crow out the rear left… and a very large, green parrot squeezed out the rear hatch.

"I can't thank you enough for this, Boomer." Poe said to the parrot as a valet drove off in the SUV.

"S'no bother. Anything for my dear American friend." He smiled amiably and ruffled her feathery head, which was about chest level to him.

"Never been to New Zealand, Boom. Is it much like Australia? I heard it was." Kai asked, glancing up at him while readjusting her rifle case.

"You two have the same accent, anyway." Espio observed, straightening his lapels distractedly and looking up at the reflection of sky against the edifice's glossy panes. His keen eye caught a break in the mirrored surface, possibly on the topmost floor.

His head snapped back down when Kai punched him hard in the shoulder.

"We do not. Honestly, as detail-obsessed as you are, you pay no attention sometimes."

He frowned at her, rubbing his arm, wondering what he'd done wrong.

And thus, the Unholy Duo, Espio and a new friend advanced into the lobby.

((I fear I've dragged this on long enough. Yeah, I know, I only touched on my lesser storylines in this chapter, and Sonic (& friends) is STILL missing from the story right now- but trust me! He'll have his part soon. I mean, if you really want him to, sure.

Oh, and I've been wanting to use Boomer for some time. If you like, you can look up "Boomer" and "New Zealand" to get an idea of what/who he is. (He is an actual, living creature!) Oh, and also, you really need to comment/review. I took time out of my busy Christmas Schedule to hammer this out for you. Show some appreciation.

Merry Christmas, Happy Hannukah, Krazy Kwanza and have a wonderful whatever else you might celebrate.)))