My legs burned, but that was nothing compared to the fire under my ass. Shards of broken glass and pebbles cut into my ripped up old sneakers, but I needed to get out of there. Fast. Dashing through the freezing night air, I leaped over a dumpster, tried to cut an angle into another street, leaped over a wall, and kept running until I reached an unforgiving brick wall. My heart was pounding; I was letting fatigue catch up to me by staying here, but I couldn't let anything else follow suit. The roars and growls in the distance cut through the night sky. My eyes quickly picked out a ladder; I frantically began scaling it, getting atop the roof before turning around to see if I'd gotten away.
Lions can't climb, right? I thought. I looked up again and kept climbing; the beast had already torn the poor goatman apart; his dying screams of "run" still filled my ears as I fled.
I clenched my fists. Running was all I had done. Shaking my head and slapping myself in the face, I leaped back down onto the trash-filled street, just in time to behold the thing that stared me down.
"Well, you don't look like your average detroit housecat," I remarked. "If they indeed have-" the snarl cut me off, filling the air with the scent of blood and spittle and…lilacs?
The beast was the size of a pickup truck, with glinting golden fur surrounding eyes that glowed in the darkness.
Summoning every ounce of courage I had, I backed up. Slowly.
"Here, kitty, kitty, kitty," I said. The animal, which resembled an enormous lion, began to advance, clogging up the alleyway with its massive frame. My heart was pounding, but I set my feet in the ground. Difficult to get a good spring when you're hopping around. As I saw it's muscles tense, ready to pounce, silver teeth flashed in the moonless night.
With a massive roar, the beast pounced and with all my courage I leaped to the side, rolled, and began running. Again. I ran and ran like I never had before, even when the poor goat-man had first screamed at me.
Hellnohellnohellnohellnohellono my mind screamed as I ran. I had no idea what the thing was; lions didn't usually come in that size. I ran a similar route, jumping across turns and running over obstacles, taking momentary satisfaction in the crashes as the massive beast attempted wide turns, but I couldn't keep this up forever.
Until disaster struck; a stray pebble, a loose lace, a torn sole, whatever it was sent me sprawling in the asphalt. I scrambled to my feet and saw my salvation; a beaten-up old warehouse with a garage door that peeked up. I dashed towards it and slammed the door with clammy hands, taking a deep breath and sitting down. The warehouse was open in the back, leading to a massive junkyard with stacks and stacks of flattened cards.
Alright, Tommy, I thought. Think. You're running from a giant golden lion in the suburbs of Detroit and it's chased you to an abandoned part of town. You're hiding in an old warehouse, and it's going to sniff you out eventually.
One of my old foster parents told me that lions could only hunt in short bursts. They needed stealth to get close and pounce, but stealth was out of the question for this beast. I had a hope of outlasting it. My mind raced; I had been running for years, mostly from foster homes or strange, abnormally large men with horns or tusks, but nothing like this. I wasn't confident in my abilities in the slightest. I couldn't confront it; I had no weapons, or even the guts to. I buried my face in my hands; I wanted to curl up and cry, and would've if I didn't suddenly feel a sharp pain in my back.
"Ahhh!" I screamed and rolled forward, feeling blood dripping. The beast's claws had shredded the garage door like it was made of paper. Ignoring the huge gash in my back, I frantically began scooting back as the enormous lion ripped the door apart, folding it in two. The beast, it's eyes trained on me, slowly began to advance. I was going nowhere.
I scooted back frantically, and struggled to my feet, trying to search the shelves of the warehouse for something; a broken metal pipe, a heavy and pointed knife, a fiberglass welding blanket, and a plain jewelry chain. Stacks and stacks of flattened cars and trucks. I looked down my meager collection and shrugged.
I'm going to die anyway, I thought. Taking the chain, I shoved the knife hilt-first into the pipe and wrapped the chain around it, locking it to my hand, and threw the blanket over myself just as the beast pounced.
And with timing I had practiced through years of diving through bigger opponent's legs, I curled up, presented the blanket as a threat, and let the lion carry itself onto the stout steel pipe with a razor-sharp tip. It was a brilliant plan, executed perfectly.
I groaned; the knife had shattered against the beasts' hide, and the pipe was bent in two. I tried to frantically scoot out, but I was crushed under it's weight. Trying to breathe, I only got fiberglass and once the beast scooted back, it's claws went to work, shredding the tough blanket. The makeshift armor took the worst of it, and so did my instant curling, but as soon as the barrage faltered for a split second, I rolled through a stream of blood to try desperately to rise.
I coughed. My clothes were shredded, and the freezing air stung my gashes. Shaking my head and blinking out the blood, I clutched the chain as my only final weapon.
Be magical, dammit, I thought, shaking the chain. The chain had to have something, something that could protect me. The beast began closing in on me, and I coughed. I couldn't confront the monster; I just couldn't. I wanted to hide again, roll over, do anything but fight the monster. You need to get out of here, Tommy, I thought. You need to turn and run or do something or find a way out of this mess.
I ran again, but I had a plan this time. One last shot. I could hear the monster pick up his pace, so after more and more frantic running through the maze of cars, I dashed into a clearing; there it was. The car shredder. My legs shaking, I climbed my second ladder of the day. Daring a glance back, I saw the lion leap into the clearing, but snarl angrily when it saw that it couldn't follow me up the ladder. Running up to the collection of levers, I tinkered with the controls; running away from foster homes could make you decent at messing with electronics, but no electrician. I didn't have any natural affinity for circuits, but one of my old foster siblings had taught me the basics of hot-wiring a car. This was the same, just a totally different machine that may not even work.
I heard the snarl behind me; so fixated on my work that I couldn't hear the lion climbing up the machine. It wasn't too high, after all.
Alright, I thought. Let's try this again. I looked up as the machine choked and groaned to life. I refused to turn around and look at it. If I died, it would be staring up at the sky.
The wind shifted; I curled up into a ball and let the lion's pounce miss, right into the car shredder. The roar became a grunt of surprise, then a growl of anger; I looked up.
The lion's magnificent mane had been caught in the shredder. Running towards the controls, I increased the power as much as I could, the grinding of gears an ugly and horrible sound. I looked in; remarkably, the blades couldn't penetrate it's skin, but they did catch the lion's head at an awkward angle. The beast thrashed and thrashed, it's roars becoming cries of panic as it struggled desperately to get free. I increased the power on the shredded, catching more and more of its mane and locking it in place.
With an ugly crack, the lion's desperate spasms were too much for its neck to handle, and it went limp just as the machine died.
Exhausted, I flopped to the ground; was that dust in the air? I was bleeding and exhausted, but I curled up and began to cry and sob. I couldn't handle this at all. I couldn't. I couldn't face something like that ever again.
"Hey, Axle," came a voice from the back. It was guttural and intense. "I think something broke into our warehouse." A more guttural voice followed it, as if a giant football player was speaking through a mouthguard.
"You're right, Smote," it said. "I smell kitty-cat, but I also smell-" he paused. "Lilac? Lilac and demigod." Daring a glance up, my heart froze; two twelve-foot tall men stood in the snow. They were dressed like welders in large aprons and work boots, and they were enormously muscled, but the scariest part was their foreheads.
Specifically, the gleaming, single eye in the center of them. Framing them was the huge, sign that I could barely make out; the words seemed to scramble.
"Monocle Motors?" I whispered. Oh, no, I thought. I looked to the shredder, terrified that I had to deal with one-eyed men and the lion, as if the lion had somehow risen again, but I saw only… a golden-brown, leather trench coat?
I had to act fast. I leaped into the shredder, grabbed the coat, and jumped into the snow, ready to run again.
"Say, Axle, you were right!" the one on the left said, hefting a massive monkey wrench. "Demigod."
Demigod? I thought. The one on the right snorted.
"As usual, Smote. But now, it's dinner time," he said as he leered over me. My stomach dropped. I couldn't possibly fight them off if I was fresh, let alone bloody and exhausted.
I clutched the chain close.