Badkittynecril

Founders Falls Tabby, Psychlone, Ragamuffyn, and a poor, suffering Vanguard doorman. "Ok, now remember- NO KILLING," Tabby lectured the others -again- as they started down the monorail ramp. The trip over had been uneventful. Uneventful as a car full of commuters all staring silently forward, not acknowledging anyone around them in the slightest. Psychlone looked inordinantly pleased at that. Ragamuffyn, meanwhile, had just bounced in her seat, humming to herself and kicking her legs in girlish fashion. Overall, a tad high on the creepy factor for Tabby, but so were monorail rides in general. "The Vanguard recruiting station or base or whatever is over there. Guard up front, must get lonely, maybe he'll chat. Keep a low profile." "I will keep the lowest profile," answered Rags proudly, "I'll stay so still...that I'll be invisible to the naked eye..." She waved four bandaged fingers in front of her mask while making ominous 'whoosh' sounds. Tabby sighed, turned the corner and immediately saw the guard at the building's front door. She made wild, largely indecypherable gestures first toward a military truck parked nearby and then to the others. Finally, she cleared her throat, composed herself, and put on a cheerful face. "Hi!" "Ma'am," issued the Vanguard trooper in a polite if perfunctory tone. His expression was utterly impossible to discern through the Impervium helmet he wore, and he remained almost motionless with his arms clasped behind his back. "I...um, I'm Tabby. I was hoping you could help me." Luckily, the streets seemed quiet. Around the corner, Rags smiled with her eyes to Psychlone and looked for a good location from which to take cover and watch. The girl might have been mad as a Rikti monkey but she still had enough logic in her pea brain to know one thing: Walking up to an 'enemy of the Gods' waving her rifle was probably not the brightest tactic. Not for recon anyway. For her part, Psychlone just sat down on a nearby bench and pretended to read a discarded newspaper. Utterly inconspicuous and incognito. She even wore sunglasses. "What do you need, ma'am?" The trooper asked, still not moving. The man may as well have been an Impervium statue. "Well, for starters, I...um...I started orientation with Vanguard a few weeks back, but y'know, hero things came up and I'm really not sure if it ever got completed or if I have to start over or if, well, I dunno..." "Orientation and registry officials are inside and through the portal, ma'am. If you have completed orientation, it will be on file." The trooper's words had an even and regular rhythm to them - Likely, he was simply spouting canned phrases at her. "Thanks, but I was kinda hoping that maybe you had a way to check for me from here? I mean, you've got to know who to let in and not, and to be honest, the whole portal thing kinda wigs me out- leaves me all fluffed- static electricity's a bitch." "I am just the door guard, ma'am. You are cleared to enter. You would already have been alerted to the contrary if you were not." Meanwhile, Rags had slunk behind the heavy transport across the street, not far from where Psychlone was seated. Unseen and off to a good start. Maybe they wouldn't have any trouble with this after a- Suddenly, the vagrant's eyes widened, for they had met with a horrifying sight: A man in shades walking down the street toward them...in a hawaiian shirt. The telltale sign of undercover PPD. Ragamuffyn's mind scrambled for her next move. It was just a shirt, right? But not just any shirt, she thought nodding to herself. No...her hyper-attuned senses and peerless cunning knew the wily ways of the enemy. They knew a threat when they saw one. And it was coming closer. He could notice Psychlone! He could notice her! Quietly panicking, the hoodied miscreant reached for a small, green-silver pistol in her pocket and tried to act natural as she leaned against the truck. "Ok, thanks...umm...Could you tell me something about protocol before I go in?" Tabby thumbed through her phone to the NaughtyNeko pics from inside the Vanguard base. "Last time I was here, someone leaked these to the press...Are Vanguard soldiers allowed to take pics in the briefing room? Is there a camera in that helmet?" The Vanguard trooper finally actually moved, noticeably averting their gaze from the displayed imagery of the phone. "Please direct all inquiries to the head of personnel in the forward base." Beyond, Rags vibrated against the large vehicle, waiting as the man with hideous fashion sense drew nearer and near. Finally, he crossed behind and she squeaked out a "Hey there!" Tabby sheathed her smartphone, "Is it a violation, or am I just overreacting? I really don't want to go through all the discomfort of a portal for an overreaction." A flash of green light and a muffled *zap* came from behind the truck. Psychlone blinked, momentarily turning, owl-like, to stare at what had happened not far from her. Ragamuffyn brandished a cheery thumbs, laying down the unconscious man next to the truck's huge wheels. ("No killing! Job well done!") She turned her attention back to her paper. And the guard. Tabby was...loud, and distracting. Mentally speaking of course. Especially when trying to see passed layers of Impervium and psy-blockers. Though amusingly enough, his flinching at the images might have been enough to make his control slip and so the psychic tried get a toe-hold. "It is not really my business to say, ma'am," spoke the trooper, finally returning his gaze to the catgirl. A hint of wavering impatience had begun to creep into the trooper's voice, although he was evidently trying to stick to his script. "But you'd know if this was allowed or not, right? Oh! Wait...Is this- Are you supposed to be like those Buckingham Palace guards, or the tomb? Are you supposed to just stand there and do nothing but stick to a tight script? Omygosh. I'm totally screwing this up for you, aren't I?" "You can check our website or contact Vanguard Helm via phone," the trooper supplied pointedly, "I am authorized to provide you with a number for one of their lines." "Shit. So you are like the guards there...I'm SO sorry. I'll make sure to relay up the chain some commendation on your resolve here. I mean, you've been awesome. It's just me being pushy. I have a tendency to do that- and talk too much, right? What's the phone number?" The door guard sighed, waves of exasperation wafting off of him as he checked his communicator for the number. Luckily for the trio, it was just long enough for him not to notice the second flash of green. Nor the unconscious fat man being dragged behind the truck. This time someone who had made the mistake of leaning over to look at Psychlone's newspaper. A pained yelp came from behind the transport moments later, as Rags' strength slipped and her hefty human cargo flattened her to the pavement. Yes, but what about the Dagger? Psychlone tried focusing, hoping to make him slip and say something. Difficult through all the shielding and doubly so when she was trying to do it unnoticed. Did he even know anything about the Dagger? If not, who did? What she saw was fuzzy and nebulous - it could have meant he knew nothing, but with all the layers of protection, it could have just as easily been the armor and tech doing their job, shielding sensitive information. There was nothing for it but to dig deeper and hope Tabby could create a bigger chink in his disposition. Something Psychlone could exploit. As Tabby typed down the number, she just babbled: "Yeah, so I figured I'd better get my orientation done- I started working on a special assignment- y'know- the dagger thingy that the news says some Rogue Vanguard faction took, or something, and I thought, 'I better be checking with them.' For all I knew, Vanguard could be in the middle of this world-threatening event and needed the dagger and maybe they just blamed this rogue group as a way to buy time. I don't wanna be - y'know- stepping all over toes and possibly screwing things up for them, but I really didn't want to run into the creep that posted those pics." She blinked innocently, then held the phone up to show the number. "Is that right?" That knocked the trooper off balance, as if Tabby had just performed the mental equivalent of judo-throwing him to the ground. Several distinct emotions and associated memories began to leak through his defenses like the distant smell of rot. Feelings of anger and resentment. Of betrayal. Strong enough to be creeping through all the psi-blockers and Impervium at a mere mention. "I really think you should head inside and proceed to Orientation ma'am," spoke the trooper, the faintest crack in their voice flying by in the first two words, "I'm just the door guard." By that point, Rags had succeeded in pushing the man off and thankfully saw no one else trotting down the street. Satisfied with her little pile of sleepers, she squeezed under the truck like a bedraggled little weasel and pulled them as far underneath as she could. She then adjusted herself, quietly readied her rifle, and took aim at the soldier...just in case. Psychlone too had found her target. The issue with a lot of anti-psi training, was that it was exponentially more difficult to keep something out that was already in. Psychlone was mostly ignorant of the fine details. Psychlone just saw an opening. And so she tried to follow the emotions back to their source. What she saw were faces; memories of various individuals known, packaged and layered with feelings of regret, guilt, and hatred. These were the faces of rogues. Their details were largely indistinct and blurry, possibly due to interference or maybe the trooper's own imperfect memories. There were other images here as well, with similar emotional underpinnings: The distinctive color scheme and outline of a Longbow Warden's helm. With traces of accompanying contempt. There was certainly a lot to unpack, but what could be done discretely without alerting the trooper? That was yet unclear. "And a good door guard. I'll give you that. Y'know, that guy that took those pics, he sent me one of his johnson. Can you imagine? I mean, I know that catgirls have a reputation, but who does that?" Tabby realized then that she really should have set up some sort of signal ahead of time with Psy, because she had no clue how long she needed to keep this up. Those words, on the other hand, had been singularly unhelpful. The moment Tabby mentioned 'johnson' and 'catgirl' in such close proximity, the trooper's emotional state began to pinwheel and a combination of panic and subconscious damage control both began to surge through the floodgates, banishing the mental imagery and emotions Tabby had just evoked. "GAH! SHIT!" Given how linked the two were at the moment, someone else also got a brainful of unwanted mental images. "...You..." the trooper croaked. "...If that, uh, if you have evidence of harassment or misconduct by a member of Vanguard, you really, really should discuss it directly with the head of personnel or with a representative from Vanguard Helm. I honestly cannot help you there ma'am, I really am just supposed to mind the door." Tabby, blissfully unaware and thinking she might be breaking his guard, started swiping through her phone. "Yeah, I never delete anything...lemme find it." Psychlone winced, then suddenly got an idea. An awful idea. Psychlone had a wonderful, awful idea. In most circumstances, this would blow their cover. If she led with it, certainly, but given everything going on right now? She focused, and tried to plant something in his brain. A command, a belief: <TELL HER EVERYTHING ABOUT THE DAGGER AND ALL THIS GOES AWAY> The man froze. Already, Psychlone could see signs the implanted mental imperative had taken root, at least at the subconscious level - and she could tell that he was about to open his mouth and blurt out something sensitive. But at the same time, blaring alarm klaxons were going off in his head, and his internal, mental gaze - his third eye - had suddenly painted her presence in a spotlight. The jig was up. "Look, Freedom Corps are the ones going after the Dagger and deal regularly with oversexed catgirls-" The trooper then immediately shut up and began to back away towards the doors leading into the compound, scanning the nearby rooftops abruptly. Tabby knew from his body language that her cover was blown...but she was also fuming. "Oversexed? OVERSEXED CATGIRLS?! You- I'll show you an oversexed ca...Wait, not like that! I mean...Oh, damnit..." Then a sudden voice rang out in her mind. A familiar sense of intrusion; a mental sensation not unlike expecting the final step of a staircase and meeting only air. <I'VE GOT IT! TIME TO GO!> Snarling, Tabby stormed off in the direction of the monorail- her first step almost a trip, but she recovered enough to maintain decorum while continuing her rant, "Personnel is gonna hear about this, lemme tell you! Me? Oversexed catgirl? ME? I'M an oversexed catgirl?!" She turned the corner, should have made a beeline for the monorail, but stopped, seething internally, still trying to work together a better respone. One came to her, but when she turned back to give a piece of her mind, Psychlone nudged her again to leave. The psychic then stood up from her bench and wiped her nose clean with a sleeve. Deep red. Nosebleed again. A side-effect of her power, or so she claimed. Meanwhile, still under the truck, the little vagrant had kept her gun trained on the soldier the entire time. Now he was backing away, suspicious, looking this way and that. To Rags, things were turning tense really quick and so the options began to simmer in her mind: DING. Option 1: Shoot him. Option 2: Figure out how exactly the undercarriage of this thing worked and wire it to EXPLODE gloriously. That could throw off their scent...right? Option 3: Move open that manhole cover and slink back into the bowels of the city. Like she always did. Option 4: First 1. Then 2. THEN 3. IT WAS GENIUS! The girl grinned maniacally behind her mask, the image of the beautiful blue-green BOOM flashing before her eyes...until she spied Tabby making her exit. Angry but without any hint of impending struggle. Rags blinked in utter bewilderment at this sudden turn of events and whined for the missed opportunity. With that, she began slinking back out from under the truck. Tabby had told them not to cause a scene so she'd refrain...this time. Still, she resolved to pout about this anti-climax at length. Of course, her two unconscious victims were left beneath the truck, addled under its tall undercarriage. Someone would find them, eventually. Perhaps it was best that she hadn't exploded the thing. Pehaps she could have put them in the manhole first. The thoughts quickly came and went, squeezed out by her immeasurable disappointment. The girls made a hasty retreat to the monorail, with Rags and Psychlone both intervening to keep Tabby moving in the right direction. "He...he called me an oversexed catgirl..." she said, calming down, obviously seeking consolation from her friends. Instead she got a long stare from Psychlone who had evidently not forgotten the mental slideshow, and a chipper, blinking nod from Ragamuffyn, who didn't quite grasp the negativity of the phrase. Finally, the monorail arrived and they stepped in. Tabby's ears flattened and a ridge of fur on her back pulsed up and down with her breath. She took one last look down at the Vanguard base and muttered, "Shoulda blown up the truck." Rags silently nodded in agreement...before doing a doubletake and reaching back out toward the building with tragic desperation. The doors closed and her shoulders sagged in disappointment; an opportunity lost forever. The only seats available together were far in the front, directly opposite a recruiting poster for Freedom Corps. Mynx, of all people, was on prominent display. Tabby did a flourish in its direction and in one last holler ranted, "Yet I'm the oversexed catgirl?!" Many heads peeked over in her direction. She froze. "Psych...you did do that mental freeze thing when we came in here, right?" "Nah, I'm tapped," Psychlone replied with a matter-of-fact shrug as she kicked back and relaxed. Tabby sunk into her seat, "They're all looking at me aren't they?" Ragamuffyn spun in her own seat, waved, and chirped, "Yep!" Tabby sunk further and closed her eyes tight, trying to remember how many stops she had before the Brickstown exit, praying it was only one. She curled her knees into her chest and tucked her head down. She wasn't going to move, think, look anywhere, or say anything until they got there, then it was going to be a beeline to her apartment. For the rest of her life. Rags, with perceptions ever distorted, was not entirely certain why Tabby was so distraught, nor why Psychlone seemed more aloof than usual. She tapped her mask pensively before perking up with a flash of inspiration. After all, she did know one thing that made everyone feel better! Well, it made her feel better at least. So why wouldn't it make everyone else feel good, too? Slowly, she reached toward Tabby with a scaly, bandaged hand...and proceeded to gently stroke at her fur. "Pet kitty." Tabby groaned, in annoyance and seemingly frustrated satisfaction alike, all the way back to Brickstown.

~Brainstorming~ Brickstown Tabby, Psychlone, and Ragamuffyn (Collaboration) Tabby stood staring at the Zig... again. The place was illuminated by spotlights for another night, but not the ones in the giant structure- they'd been trucked in and were scattered around the streets, making traffic hell. "Is this even working? Maybe...maybe she made it out of the city?" "Who're we talking about?" There was a noise, the distinctive sound of a straw slurping on something nearly empty. Psychlone stood by the door to the stairs, drink in one hand, a pizza box in the other...and dressed in what seemed to be a random asortment of clothing with no real eye towards coordination or style. Even the shoes and socks were mismatched. Tabby rubbed her temple. It had been a long few nights- she'd never gotten used to a roommate in boarding school, and the slightest sound still woke her. "Psychlone...You know, the person we're supposed to be mentally shouting for when we're up here?" She tried hard not to have an edge on her voice... REALLY hard, but this hasn't been the first time she had to remind Ragamuffyn. Tabby glanced back at strangely dressed figure...right before doing a double take. "Wait! Oh! Hey, it worked! And you brought PIZZA! You...you're a goddess!" "Was I not supposed to...?" She took a step back, clutching the box protectively. "Oh, always bring pizza. Always. That's perfect. We, like, burned through a tray of lasagana and I have to make the other one last till payday." Tabby awkwardly shuffled, part offering to take the box or... What was appropriate here? A handshake? A hug? She settled on a wave. "Right. So, um, lots to catch you up on. Your..um...friend Ragamuffyn has been visiting. A bit of a misunderstanding at first, but we've both been looking for you." On that note, the pair heard the clanking of footsteps up the fire-escape. Slowly, a small figure with a dirty blue hoodie climbed up onto the roof, dragging with her a small bag filled to the brimming with packages. Shouldering her strange, green-glowing rifle she did not yet seem to notice the company. "ALRIGHT! Who wants beef jerky? Tabby wants beef jerky! And all the Cheeze Twiddles we can eat for a MONTH! Just...heh...don't ask where I got 'em." Tabby was just about to do so when that timely warning was given. She shrugged, wondering how far she could stretch "plausible deniability" before this kind of thing got her into trouble. "I'll just assume it fell off a truck ok?" "I can find out!" the psychic chirped happily. "No, let's- let's savor the mystery, please?" "Yes! A mystery...No will ever kno..." The raggedy thing raised her gaze up to see the third member of their little gathering. She blinked behind her hockey mask and let the bag of junk food fall onto the rooftop. "Psy!" Before anyone else could say a word, she was charging straight for the escaped psychic, launching herself to try to wrap her arms around her. Psychlone gave a small squawk of alarm as the precious pizza box went flying. Only to hover, slowly rotating, a few feet above the roof. "I've got it! I've got it...No worries." Rags drew her into a tight hug. As tight as a girl weighing 100 pounds soaking wet could manage anyhow. Tabby kept her distance, making sure NOT TO get roped into a group hug. "She...really missed you. Like. really... like 'attack random catgirl for kidnapping you' missed you." "Oh, she gets like that." Psychlone shrugged, as if kidnapping somebody and threatening them with a golf club were so common and harmless as to usually go beneath mention. "Found anything yet?" "That's right!" spoke Ragamuffyn, still hanging off of her, "I thought she got you! Like, I thought she was trying to haul you back to the Zig! I thought I was..." She bowed her head a little, "...That I could have been too late..." "They have bigger problems than me. At least the ones I've scanned thought so...They also think Vanguard has the dagger." She added in a conspiratorial tone. "Vanguard?!" chirped Rags, suddenly a touch more nervous, "Wh- why are we talking about Vanguard?" "No wonder that jerk never got back to me," Tabby muttered. *So much for expecting any good to come from the Tabby Tracker...* "Longbow and some of the cops think Vanguard has it, but..." Psychlone winced, "Asking Vanguard would be harder. They, uh...They tend to know how not to 'broadcast' and how to keep me out." "Wait..." Rags narrowed her eyes behind her mask. "What are we doing now?" "We..." She tapped her temple. "Are trying to find out who has the dagger. And then I'm gonna take it." "What dagger?" "What dagger? What dagger!? THE Dagger! The...magic thingy! That everybody's looking for!" Tabby tried to step in and clear the confusion, "Someone stole a magic dagger. It can do really bad stuff. Everyone wants it, or wants it back, and Psychlone here wants it too. I...I can't lie, so do I, because it could do something good, like fix my problems. But Psychlone and I are working it out, so maybe let me share?" She gave a hopeful glance at Psychlone. *I am totally not going to steal it. Totally not. Totally not stealing it. I only want it for me...* Ragamuffyn paused, eyes narrowing further and nodding slowly, "I see...says the blind man...Okay!" With that she sat down crosslegged on the rooftop, rocking slightly as she grinned at them with her eyes. "So how are we snatching this thing?" "Have to find it first." Psychlone noted, crouching down to open the pizza box. "Yes! Team huddle! Putting our brains together!" Rags crawled toward the pizza box until she was squatting just beside the psychic. "Tabby's cool by the way. Really cool. She's just like us!" Tabby tried to shrug off the 'just like us' comment as a compliment- *Really, how different are we?* and instead focused on food. Figuring it'd be rude to not appreciate Rags' haul, she grabbed a slice of jerky and wrapped pizza around it, "Dad used to call beef stick the best pizza topping. Probably because it was the cheapest, but...mmm...memories." *Mostly shitty memories, but the asshole did make good grub. When he didn't zone out and burn it.* Rags quietly took a slice of pizza and carefully tilted her mask up, just enough to shove a bit in her mouth. Her companions could see parts of the pink, scaly skin around her chin. "Mmm...sho...Vahguard, hmm? Mmm...Thah sounds pretty scahray..." "Scary, huh...I'MTRYINGNOTTOPRY! Really..." Psychlone held a hand up defensively. "Buut...I just don't like 'em because they're trained to shrug off mental stuff. I think. Maybe if we get one alone I can ask him questions or something." "I brought a golfclub. Just for such an occasion..." Rags swallowed and took another bite, giving the pair a long, uncomfortable stare. "I...um, tried to lure a guy in Vanguard to meet me, but he stood me up. Not that I think it'd have mattered; If they're trained to avoid a psychic, they're not going to just blab it out." She finished the first pizza wrap with cheese dripping all over her hands. With no napkins, and pretty sure present company wouldn't mind, she started licking her fingers clean, then gnawing on some persistent goop that got into her fur. "I mean, it'd depend on how long I ask him stuff." The psychic shrugged. "And how much juice I use." She reached for a piece of pizza. "That was something of a sticking point in there," she said, nodding towards the ominous concrete brick on the horizon. "Back in the Big Zig?" asked the raggedy girl, tilting her head. Tabby also looked at the big grey box and wondered aloud, "Did you have any friends in there... like you? Like, 'not supposed to be there' friends?" "Not supposed to be there?" Psychlone asked. She rocked nervously, cross-legged on the ground, "Well, y'know... we both did stuff. We both got into trouble, but, I mean...I got the golden treatment: A reform school, counselors- I mean, don't get me wrong the other students were shit and I thought I was in hell, but...." She still eyed the zig. "Not THAT kinda hell." She reached for another slice, this time sans jerky. "You shoulda got that too. Not locked up in there." "Everybody thought I should be in there," spoke Psychlone, tilting her head, "They didn't like me thinking." "Well, they were wrong," said Tabby through a mouthful of food, "Don't get me wrong-- the way you can think-- it's scary sometimes. I'm like...a little (*A LOT*) freaked out at the idea that anyone could like... control my thoughts, but...but that didn't give them the right to lock you away." "They said I wasn't supposed to do that. And they didn't like that I stopped a few other people from thinking." "Yeah, um... that- that last part. Shouldn't do that. Not unless they're really bad and hurting you...or us really bad, but...You went through a lot. You needed, I dunno- My school probably wouldn't have been right for you. Listening to all those rich bitches all day would drive you mad. People like Insane Mary Zane. Damn, she's one that'd be in the zig someday for the right reasons if her billionaire dad wouldn't bail her out all the time. You coulda taken her place. Been a better sophomore roommate, that's for sure." "Could I have?" She seemed excited, apparently completely missing the snark in the statement. "I think having a roommate would be cool!" chimed in Rags, "Being alone or...you know, in a big room with twenty, thirty people is nice and all, but if you could just hang out with ones you were really great with...yeah..." She blinked a few times, "I don't think they let you have roommates in those soft rooms though. Do they?" "What about the dagger? That's what we should be thinking about." Psychlone grumbled suddenly. Wishing for a topic change, perhaps? "Oh yeah! Yeah yeah yeah! Dagger...Hmm...dagger dagger Vanguard dagger..." Meanwhile, Tabby was still fighting a losing battle against cheese and grease on her hands, but tried to speak between the constant nibbles at her fingers: "Welf, if ifts Fanguard, fair main base is a no-go. We'd be outgunned efen wif your 9-iron, Rags... gah, ack, hurr...hurr... " A sharp fit of coughing and gasping overcame her. "You...You alright there?" the psychic tilted her head. "Hurrr...ulk!" It was a sound most cat owners learn to dread. The alert that something cold and slimy awaited them somewhere on the floor. After five agonizing seconds of gasping and choking, Tabby coughed out a slimy black nugget the size of a knuckle. She'd almost inhaled one of the gel pads that snapped over her claws. Rags nearly fell over giggling. "Ugh... that.... that was....unpleasant." She said as she shook the nugget off, snapped it back in place, and flicked her hand to shake off anything still attached to it. "Let's not talk about that again. Anyhow, they do have a few branch offices around town. I remember passing one in Founders Falls when I was on patrol there. Could probably check the place out, since I'm supposed to be checking in with someone at the yacht club anyway..." "Enemies...enemies...Ooh, ooh!" The hooded girl piped up, "I could ask some of the guys. You know, people I know." She looked around at her compatriots with furtive eyes, leaning in and whispering: "They really don't like Vanguard. Like 'enemies of the Green Gods' really don't like." "...So the 'Green Gods' aren't just in here?" Psychlone tapped the front of Rag's mask. Ragamuffyn merely blinked. Her brain may as well have been playing elevator music. "I don't understand the question." Psychlone shrugged. "Either way, ask them. If they can actually get out and look, so much the better. Oh, maybe we can even use them as a-" She stops. "Wait, you DO care if something happens to them...Yes?" "Yes!" interjected Tabby quickly, "We...uh...we should ALL care what happens to everyone. PLEASE. Maybe not...well...let's just try to leave as many people... thinking, as we can, okay? We don't like it when they try to stop us thinking, let's do the same!" The catgirl turned to Ragamuffyn, "I...uh...assume that gun has a "stun" setting, right?" Psychlone gave her a toothy grin and a thumbs up. Less reassuring was the fact her next words were in Tabby's mind. <See!? I'm improving!> Tabby's tail bristled briefly, then returned to normal, then bristled again, "Rags? It does have stun right? You... you used a stun on me when you zapped me in the face, right? RIGHT?" Rags was quiet. She had blinked at Psychlone's question, furrowing her brow beneath the mask as she seemed to be suddenly lost in thought. Stray images leaked from her brain: Teeth chattering. Hungry. Freezing. Curled up without even a blanket. Something carrying her. Warmth she leaned into. A blurring of place. An older man with an unkempt beard and hooded jacket. A warm place to stay. A warm meal offered. Given over by a scaly hand. So warm. Madness mixed with something fond... Slowly, she looked up at Tabby. "Uh...Wha...Stun?" Psychlone gazed at their furry host, "Well, you're not dead, so..You don't have like...Super steel skin or something, do you?" Suddenly, she leaned over to give Rags as much a crushing hug as her ninety-pound frame could put out. The masked girl squeaked at the unexpected hug but did not push away, leaning into it if anything. Tabby seemed a lot more nervous as the realization of the near-death-experience she may have experienced. The green flash took her out kinda fast. She'd thought that was the gun, so maybe it's just already set to stun... or maybe those was the "green gods" she was referring to. "I... uh... well, whatever you did to me, I lived through it, so stick with that for now." "Uh yeah..." Rags giggled, looking passed her psychic comrade toward Tabby, "Yeah, I kinda used like a smaller thing for you but yeah! Sure! It has a 'stun' setting..." The near-wink and huge fingerquotes were not entirely reassuring. Tabitha stood and began pacing nervously, wringing her hands. *Oh, this is such a wonderfully, terribly, awesomely bad idea Tabitha. I mean, you've come up with some real doozies, but what is it Mrs Pipin always said? 'No problem that couldn't be made worse by adding Tabby to the mix.'* She turned back to the group and tried to sound more confident than she felt. Or appeared. "So, sounds like we have a plan. I can scout out some Vanguard outposts, Rags can consult her contacts, and... Psychlone? Did you want to try to read a Vanguard soldier's mind, maybe while I distract him?" "Whatever we do, we should stick together!" exclaimed Rags, raising her fist excitedly, "Because we're a team now!" *Great. So it's 'Go meet the Green Gods that may or may not be real' or 'Try to steal secrets from the world's most secretive organization.'* Tabby wasn't sure which sounded more suicidal. Still, she wasn't one to mock religion. The big guy upstairs had been relatively quiet despite her effort to plead for clemency, but she knew demons were real for certain, so there had to be something there. "We can go see the guys and you can meet the Green Gods and-" Rags took in a sharp, hissing breath, "Ooh, actually, nevermind. I don't think you should *meet* the Green Gods. That's like a special thing." She leaned in, whispering far too loudly, "I don't think I'm supposed to tell you about that." She nodded. Yes. Best at keeping secrets. "But we can talk to some people!" "Get me close and I can see what they're thinking about." Psychlone nodded. "Well, the... uh... green line, I think, has a stop real close to the Vanguard base in Founders' Falls. They probably have guards posted around the clock, so we can plan a visit when there won't be many people around." Tabby was far from comfortable with this, but how bad could it go wrong? Just chat up a guard at the base, using key phrases to make him think of some secret, then see what Psychlone could glean. *What could go wrong?* "Long as I don't like...Trip an alarm or a failsafe or something. Those can be messy," Psychlone continued with a manic little giggle, "But yeah! Brainstorming!" Rags snorted loudly, putting her hand over her mask, "Pfft! Heeheeheehee, brainstorming! HAHAHAHA!" Tabby smiled at Rags, doing her best to share her enthusiasm. An explosion came from the direction of the Zig. Not uncommon with the ongoing riots there, but enough to break her focus. She wasn't sure now how to feel about the place. She'd run into plenty of bad guys on the street during patrol, people she had no doubt needed to be in there, but after reading Psychlone's profile...That could have been her. It could still be her, if she wasn't careful. How many others like that could there be in there? "Rags, I never asked, but you had on something like prison stripes when we met. You weren't ...kept in there, were you?" "I've been in and out of places," replied the girl, bouncing, "Rogue Isles lockups, hospitals here with the nice, soft mattresses and...uh...heehee...tight clothes." "Zig uniforms are orange." Psychlone interjected, "Mine said I was a 'Psychic Prisoner' and to keep at least five meters of distance! Dunno why. That's not really far enough..." "How far IS far enough?" "I...Think it's line-of-sight? Haven't really tested it. That I know of." Tabby shook her head, trying to find something that didn't fill her with unease. The Zig, their plans, the Dagger...it was all driving her toward an anxiety attack. *This isn't the kind of stuff a college student should be dealing with. Geeze, I haven't even experienced my first college FINALS yet.* "I mean, you can study and WE can go get it." Of course Psychlone had picked up on that. "What? No...uh...that's ok. I just...this is all just new to me." "Well, learn by doing. That's how I do it!" The pale woman stood up, stretching. "I mean, I didn't even know I could speak French until I heard somebody speaking French and was all 'Je suis désolé mais j'ai encore du mal avec le français.'" Tabby laughed, "Mine's kinda rusty, and I was always better at reading it- some of my aunt's old tomes were in French. My teacher teased me that I sounded like a 17th century colonial." She looked over to her...friends. Friends. She realized that up to this point, she had still been seeing them as something different. Even though she was convinced Psychlone didn't belong in the Zig, she wasn't seeing her as a kindred spirit, but someone she had to help or guard against. Yet here she was, the psychic giving friendly advice to her. They'd been nothing but good to her... Well, after the little misunderstanding with being shot in the face and kidnapped, but... "L’habit ne fait pas le moine," spoke Tabby, "That was always my favorite: 'The vestment doesn't make the monk.' My french teacher always used it when the other girls would torment me with catgirl jokes. Guess I should be reminding myself of that a bit more." "I don't know about monks," mused Rags, rocking slowly on the rooftop, "But does the straitjacket make the mental patient?" Tabitha gave a chuckle. She could think of a few other variants, including a German one that was rather raunchy, but given her own dress, or lacktherof, thought it would be better not to dwell on the topic. "Uh...So. We have the...BEGINNINGS of a plan...Yes?" Psychlone looked around. "I can get their surface thoughts easy. Going deeper will probably make them notice." "YES!" shouted Rags, jumping to her feet, "Our schemes are set in motion! Nothing can stop us now!" "Ok, so there's usually a guard in front. We can start there. Maybe I could chat with him, try to stir up thoughts, so it'll be easier to pick them up. That way it won't seem so strange that we're waiting around near the base." "Act like you wanna join up, maybe?" Psychlone suggested. Tabby hiccupped, "Join...uh...err....uh...well...I...I'm not that...practiced..in flirting." Her cheeks fluffed in an obvious blush, "BUT given that its almost expected from catgirls, people tend to read that into.." "I meant join up with Vanguard." Psychlone stared at her. "Oh! Oh. Yeah! Of course! That's so much better. Sorry. That'll be fine, and so much better." She tried not to think about what the Vanguard guy on the NaughtyNeko forums sent her. *Sooo much better.* Psychlone blinked. "Do you want me to find him? Maybe the guard will know him. I can kill him for you." "Wha? No...um, no killing vanguard, please. It was a misunderstanding." Tabby fidgeted even more, particularly now that she knew that she'd accidentally shared that memory. *Mental note: purge any thought of the NaughtyNeko fanfic section! Wait, no, Psychlone, don't take that literally.* "Kill who now?" blinked their tattered companion. "NOBODY!" Tabitha blurted, "Nobody gets killed. Please." "'Kay..." Psychlone shrugs. "Still. Plan works?" "Works for me. We talk to the guard like we're interested in joining. Maybe he lets us inside to see a recruiter, maybe we just see what he knows. If anything goes wrong, we..." *Panic, yell LOOK OUT! AN ALIEN! Run while they're distracted. Panic some more.* "We scatter, then regroup here once we know we're not followed." "We'll work on that exit plan." "Great!" chirped Rags, practically shaking with enthusiasm. She grabbed another slice of the pizza and raised it like a chalice. "To the plan?" "To the plan!" Psychlone grinned and held up a plastic cup. "To the plan." Tabby said with far less dread than she expected. Rags' excitement seemed a bit contagious. *Maybe this won't blow up in our faces after all.*

Brickstown A few days later Tabby and Ragamuffyn (Collaboration) The ringing in Tabby's skull was worse than most hangovers she'd encountered- so much worse, because she couldn't remember the drinking that had led to it... or where she was or... *wait a minute... I'm pretty sure I didn't properly earn this hangover. I was... I was checking the mailbox, and I turned around and a flash of green and.... shit!* Full realization struck when she tried to rub her eyes, only to realize her hands were bound. "Shit shit shit shit shit." Through the ringing in her ears and the initial blur in her vision, Tabby heard the sound of someone else in the room: A pitchy, excited voice seemingly deep in conversation but clearly not speaking to anyone present: "...and then she's going to be like, 'Nuuuu! Don't do it!' And I'm going to be like, 'It's golf time, bitch!'" As the world came more and more into focus, the catgirl realized that she was in fact right in the middle of her own sparsely-decorated apartment. *That explains the smell* she thought to herself, looking at the sink full of empty ramen cups. *I really need to get a trashcan*. A single stool sat next to the counter. The rest of the furnishing in the place consisted of a laptop sitting atop a makeshift cardboard desk, a blanket in a corner designated for sleeping, and a still-unpacked army surplus duffel bag. Though far more unsettling than a bout of unconsciousness and waking up in her own spartan apartment was the strange figure now inhabiting it: A short little thing covered in a dirty, blue hoodie with their back turned to Tabby. The feline noticed the interloper's odd choice of attire immediately: Pants looking like black and white prison stripes, one foot bearing a thick black boot and the other completely bare. But the flesh on that one leg, that was something else entirely: Not quite human. Pink but scaled and gnobbly. the figure turned around, their face covered by a filthy hockey mask from which shone wide, manic eyes. "Hiiiiiii..." *Great. Another prison escapee? Now I know why rent is cheap in Brickstown.* "Ugh... well, if you're here to rob the place, you picked the wrong place, obviously. No harm if you leave now. The... uh.. the laptop.. well, if you're gonna take that, can I clear the cache first?" She needed to stall until she could get free. The bindings felt irregular- a bit ragged, probably made from something like torn denim or burlap or something like that. *Not something too difficult to cut through* she thought as she snapped off one of the gelcaps she kept over her claws. *Time to get to work*. She twisted as best she could to check for others in the room, but it only seemed to be the girl. "Rob you?" she laughed maniacally, "No. No no. You robbed ME. Sort of. In a manner of speaking. Not the point. The point is..." That was when Tabby noticed the things behind her. She hadn't remembered there being an old golf bag stuffed with metal bits in her apartment...nor the ornate, glowing green rifle that leaned up against it. "The point is, YOU are going to talk. Oh yeah. Right now." "Um... ok? I can talk. People are usually threatening me trying to shut me up, but I can talk, sure." She felt one of the bindings loosen, but she was having trouble reaching the next one. "I... uh... there was this class at school- we used to call it Bullshitters 101, that they used to teach us public speaking. I used to get dinged for too many..." *I think I got it... no* "..uh's, you know, stammering and that, but... got a B+. Is this working for you, because I..." The girl initially seemed confused, but her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Ha. Ha. Ha," she replied, seemingly unimpressed. From the sound and look of her, it was clear that Tabby's would-be kidnapper was likely little older than her late teens. "You're saying that, sure. But I know there's a trick here somewhere. I know it!" The hoodied intruder reached into the golf bag and retrieved a long driver, seemingly bent halfway up the shaft and rusted to near uselessness. She eyed her captive with manic energy. "Have you ever played Mario Golf: World Tour?" Tabby's eyes widened- she hadn't, since the boarding school didn't allow much free time for TV or games- but she had the distinct impression that her head was going to be used as a golf ball. *Gotta work harder against your bindings, or my brains are going to be spilled all over the 7th green..* "What? No, but what... what did YOU want to talk about? I mean, I'm being rude here- not used to having guests, and here I am doing all the talking and haven't even offered you anything to eat or a place to sit or..." *Freedom! no... wait, damn* "or a chance to tell me what you want." "I have..." the hoodied thing replied, eyeing the bent club, "Two hundred hours preparing for this moment." She raised the club menacingly before blinking, as if something had misfired in her brain. "Wait. Wha- No! I'm not your guest! I'm your CAPTOR. Yes..." The intruder waved the club like a magic wand making what were likely supposed to be menacing, growly noises. "So yeah, I'll tell you what I want...Just don't think you can lie to me because I am the BEST at torturing people and there's like twelve guys in the other room who'll come in and beat the crap out of you if you try to escape! Get it?" "Got it." Tabby wondered if she'd possibly encountered someone worse at lying than she was. The only other room, the bathroom, clearly couldn't hold that many, even if she had managed to sound convincing. "Just tell me what you want. I... I'm not a fan of pain, so you've convinced me. I don't want to be tortured." *How many freakin knots did she put in this thing?* "Right! Yeah..." The girl seemed confused that her captive was being so forthcoming, scratching at her back with the near-broken driver. "Well, you'd better!" She came closer, perhaps uncomfortably close. She smelled of dirt and dark, dank places. And something else. Something not easily described. She blinked her wide eyes through the hockey mask. "Where's Psychlone? Where'd you take her?" In the movies, this would be where the hero broke free, headbutt the villain, and turned the tables, but sadly, Tabby had never lived up to the hollywood hero steretype. She'd thought about it- was even pretty sure her one hand was free now, but the question caught her entrely off guard. "Psychlone? I... what do you want with Psychlone?" "What do YOU want with her? You can't just kidnap people you know!" Tabby was flabbergasted. Part of her wanted to point out the irony of her captor saying that, but she was already pretty sure it would be lost on her. Part of her wanted to just break out, fight back, tie HER up and say "Well, guess I CAN", but that wouldn't get her any closer to getting something for this headache. Heck, she wasn't even sure if she could stand without throwing up right now. "Um... Psychlone. I didn't kidnap Psychlone. I KNOW Psychlone- we had pizza, so we're kinda acquaintances, not... like besties- more bestie than me and Flambeaux- that bitch- but not... What I'm trying to say is I didn't do anything to her except pay for her pizza." She now had both hands free but kept them behind her back. The intruder looked around furtively, a sort of sheepish confusion entering what little Tabby could see of her gaze. "You...You didn't...? No, you surrounded her. With a bunch of blueshirts in the pizza joint! You're trying to mess with her or get her..." The girl shifted nervously but then suddenly pushed the bent shaft of the driver hard up against Tabby's throat. Poorly thought out plans or not, it was clear that the girl was still dangerous. And quite unstable to boot. "Don't. Lie to me," she growled with angry eyes. Tabby didn't like where this was headed and thought that maybe shifting the power dynamic might jar her companion's thinking. She'd only successfully translocated once, but it was a simple spell as long as it was in her sight. She could blink away, conjure up an energy blast, and continue this conversation as equals. That was the plan. The blink worked. She was across the room, facing where she just was...unexpectedly 3 feet off the ground. As she suspected, she really didn't have her legs back yet, so when she landed she fell into her cardboard desk, crushing it and sending the laptop flying with a sickening crash- straight into the back of the intruder's hoodied head. For her part, the girl was not expecting a sudden lack of Tabby to lean on and with a surprised yelp lost her balance and bowled over the chair, getting caught in the poorly knotted ropes in the process. Still not sure if she could stand, Tabitha remained seated on her flattened cardboard desk. Practically reclining, she still traced her memorized arcane patterns in the air, making a small glowing ball of energy appear between her hands and held it there. "I am not lying. I did not kidnap Psychlone. I'm looking for her too." The girl thrashed frantically among the ropes, feet kicking in the air over the upturned chair. Tabby noticed part of the hood pulled back, showing short, dirty black hair and a patch of pinkish skin on her temple that looked...not entirely human. "Gah! Wha-Why?!" "No. This time, you first. Why are YOU looking for her? I don't like seeing people with guns or golf clubs going after my...friends." "Friends?! I'm trying to rescue her! From you! You..." There was a pause in her thrashing. "You...you're a cape...right?" "Well, um... depends on who you ask, really. I think of myself as more of a 'college student with a hair problem' but I'm clearly not normal. I...I made some mistakes a few years back so I'm working with the capes to kinda pay back. Sometimes I feel like I'm just getting ordered around like when I was in placement...but anyway. Sorry, I haven't figured this all out yet either. It feels weird to say that." Tabitha studied her foe. She had heard of the homeless being exposed to things in their emergency shelters, whether down in the sewers or in abandoned factories, and the girl certainly didn't seem well. Dangerous, yes, but well? No. It seemed clear that the confused girl- she had to be around her age- was loyal to Psychlone. Whether naturally or through mind-manipulation, it was hard to tell. In her current condition, it probably wasn't a good idea to come to blows with her, and if she WAS looking for Psychlone, maybe it didn't need to come to that. "Anyway, that night I was just getting pizza and she was getting pizza and the police... well... I think Psychlone's a pretty tough girl, don't you?" The girl just layed back in the mess of ropes looking up at the ceiling. She clutched the bent golf club, drumming bandage-wrapped fingers against it. Tabby could tell that she was listening and that something she had said early on had given her pause. Made her twitch a bit. "Uhhh...So...you...weren't trying to kidnap her?" "No! I mean, I thought she was going to hurt the police, but she didn't, so I didn't do anything but buy her pizza." The girl raised her head up to look at the catgirl: "Not trying to...arrest her? Lock her up? Put her in one of those squishy rooms?" Tabby eased the arcane energy ball until it dissipated, then tried to stand, leaning against the wall. "Look, I know what the police want, but...what they did to her wasn't fair. It wasn't right to lock her up like that. I don't want her to hurt anyone, but I don't want her to be hurt either." "I mean...People hurt you, you're gonna hurt them, right?" Tabby grumbled, "Well, yeah, I guess, if they mean to hurt you, you gotta defend yourself..." She'd made it to the kitchen counter and took the opportunity to lean on it. The girl was obviously hurt, confused, and seemed to have attacked her with a good motive, if terrible execution. You get hurt, you hurt others. *I wish it wasn't that simple. I wish someone would stop the cycle.* "Look, I just want to find Psychlone. I... We're both looking for something, and I think I may have a lead. If you want to help her too, maybe we can help one another find her." The girl tapped on the golf club anxiously, seeming to mull over the prospect while still sprawled out on the floor. Slowly, she twisted herself off of the fallen chair, her body still tangled in ropes, crawling onto the floor. Pulling the hood back over her head, she looked up at Tabby...and then to the green rifle...and then to Tabby again. Was she judging the odds? Considering whether to scramble for the gun or not? Tabby studied her in turn. It had to be tough- and dangerous- to be homeless on the streets of Paragon City. For as badly as the kidnapping had gone, the girl had to be pretty hardy to survive this long. The prison pants suggested that Tabby might want to leave any reference to her out of her daily report, but if she's not being harmed, maybe she wouldn't harm others. *I survived. That's what mattered.* "Ok, well, now that you're not my captor anymore, I guess you're my guest. I...I've just been rinsing out these ramen cups and reusing them- I can mix up some lemonade or fruit punch, if you want a drink. Got some homemade frozen lasagna in the freezer. If you... um... want to let your friends out of the other room and use it to freshen up, we can talk about how to find...and help...Psychlone. I'll nuke some lasagna, but I only have one plate so we'd have to fight fo... err... take turns." The girl blinked, looking around the room like some furtive weasel. The place was so bare. When she glanced back to the catgirl her eyes had a sheepish quality. "Let me um...consult the boys...Okay?" "Oh, of course, but I have to make the lasagna stretch till my next payday, so I can't share with everyone," she said with a slight smirk. "I...uh...think they're probably full. They ate on the way here." The girl crawled toward the bathroom door, stopping to look back at Tabby every now and again before opening the door. She peered back out at her host with a suspicious 'I'm watching you' look, just one last time before closing it. Tabby called after her, "Oh, I never got your name!" She thought about mentioning the washer/dryer in the closet- it was supposed to be a perk of the apartment, but she'd never had much need of it. Besides, all she had to offer her "guest" was another hoodie and some schoolgirl uniforms she'd sworn to never wear again. "Just a minute! In a meeting!" she heard the girl call back. It didn't take her long to come back out of the washroom, standing upright and attempting to look rather dignified and official. "I have consulted my people, and we have decided that we will NOT kill you. Or maim you or hurt you or anything like that." "I'm grateful." Tabby had picked up her laptop in the interim and trying to get it to boot. She tried to remain vigilant on the presence of her new guest without LOOKING like she was watching her...which meant typing on a dead computer and pretending it worked. The girl crept over to the raggedy golfbag still in the corner and picked up the strange rifle. She held it in her hand for a long moment, staring over at the catgirl before finally shouldering it. She walked over to Tabby, leaning in uncomfortably close and tittering nervously. She didn't seem to notice that the laptop wasn't working. "I just wanna say that I am really, truly, deeply, really REALLY...sorry." Tabby's internal voice was still grumbling, but she was committed to this and feeling good about breaking the cycle here, broken laptop aside. She smiled, "Don't. I'll be fine. You didn't burn off my fur or blind me or anything. A little painkiller and rest and I'll be fine. Now, since we've never been introduced..." She held out her hand, which was still missing two claw caps, "I'm Tabitha." "Rags. Ragamuffyn. That's what I got called and it stuck! Like 'outta my basement, ragamuffyn!' But Rags for short. And no sweat! I get hit a lot too." Rags giggled as she gave the catgirl's hand a vigorous shake. Tabitha could see the girl was grinning with her eyes. "I mean, I heal pretty quick and most people don't get close enough before PEW PEW, but you get the point!" Tabby got the point, and if she was going to have her new friend find Psychlone *mental shout: PSYCHLONE! IF YOU HEAR THIS, PLEASE FIND US BEFORE MY SECURITY DEPOSIT IS TRASHED* she'd better be extra vigilant that someone doesn't get trigger happy. The microwave dinged. Tabby's belly grumbled. She pulled out the lasagna and slid the hot plate over the counter. "Welcome to Casa de Tabitha, Rags." The girl's eyes seemed to glimmer at the sight of the meal. "Oooohhh...I have something too!" The raggedy creature bounced back over to the golf bag, rummaging through it until she located what she needed with an eager sound. She ran back to Tabitha with what appeared to be an already opened box of sugary cereal. "May I offer a box of Fruity Fruits in this trying time?" She leaned in and whispered, "This is my restitution to you." She nodded eagerly. Tabitha took one of the ramen cups as a makeshift bowl but eyed back to the lasagna, *well, at least I don't have to wait for a clean plate* "I... well, thank you." As she munched on the semi-stale cereal and watched Rags devour the lasagna, Tabby's eyes fell on the patches of skin that seemed different- mutated and scuffed. "Does it hurt?" then quickly added, for clarification, "The scars. They look like they'd be painful." Rags blinked, halfway into trying to fit a large bite of lasagna behind her mask, "Hmm? Mmm, oh." She devoured the forkful and pulled the mask back into place. "Nah, it doesn't hurt. Actually kinda the other way around?" She raised up her one bare foot (not much for table manners this one), showing off the strange, pinkish scales and markings all the way down from her knee. "It's pretty neat! You can have ALL SORTS of things happen and it'll just slowly get back together like SCHLUNK. People don't...heh...really like looking at it though..." Tabitha tried to shrug it off rather than cringe from the sight, "Yeah, People have weird tastes on what they like and don't like. Guess neither of us have much need for shoes." She held out her leg, toes splayed, claws extended, a strange middle-ground between paw and human foot. Ragamuffyn giggled, wiggling her toes, "Things in common! We're so close already!" She paused with a gasp, turning to look Tabby straight in the eyes, "Wait, so is this like an 'all the time' thing? Like it's not a costume?" Tabby crossed her arms, a little uncomfortable with the scrutiny she brought to herself. "All the time for now. Hopefully that'll change. It's been...jeeze, four years already...but I'm kinda hoping to find a way to switch back now that I'm here in Paragon." "Why?" The question was blunt and to the point, but confused in a way that a child lacking insight into some complex matter would show. "Well, a lot of reasons, I guess. I never really planned to look like this- and sometimes it'd be nice to not look like a reject from a japanese anime- the kind that usually has tentacles and..." She paused, debating over whether to bring this up. It might help if she didn't emphasize appearance and instead emphasized some of her side effects. "Hold out your arm for a moment." "Yes..." She extended her arm out for Tabby, still staring, fixated on her. Tabby leaned forward and gently blew on her arm. "Feel that? That's tiny hairs on your arm picking up the subtlest change in the air. Now imagine if you had ten thousand more hairs there, ALL of them sending you all that, every time, from everything. Wind- a handshake- a hoodie rubbing the wrong way. It gets a little TOO MUCH sometimes. If I could just... I dunno... switch back to how I was, it'd be so much easier." "That sounds...tickly," answered her raggedy guest. *Sometimes* she thought, before answering: "Sometimes it's like a billion needles all poking you at once." The girl now seemed to be half-listening, raising her hand toward Tabby's ears, "But you're a kitty...I am now...going...to pet you." Tabby reflexively ducked back, "No, that's what I mean. It can feel like you're petting, but it can feel a lot worse to me." *Ok, the no-good-deed-goes-unpunished rule is coming into effect.* "But I must..." She slowly continued reaching toward her. "Just a little bit. With the grain not against!" Tabby's inside voice was shouting *personal space PERSONAL SPACE* while she leaned back, back to the counter. Her ears twitched and flattened, and she could feel her tail bristling. She eyed Rags, still approaching, the gun, the golf bag, and kept reminding herself that she needed to keep things calm. She'd had too many wins up to now to let it go south. Don't blow it. She took a deep breath. "Ok, only the ear, though, ok?" She tried to make the ear stand up, but it kept twitching back, anticipating the contact. The disheveled thing outstretched a single, scaled finger. It grew closer and closer, Tabby pratically feeling the seconds creep by with horrifying slowness. Moments drawing out into torturous anticipation as it drew nearer and nearer, her internal thoughts practically screamin- Boop. Just on the edge of her ear. With the fur. Not against. "Yesss...Pet kitty." The girl's eyes lit up with maddened, childlike joy as she gently stroked the fluffy ear. "...What were we talking about again?" The sensation wasn't unpleasant, but it was unpleasant that it wasn't unpleasant. Tabby fought hard not to curl her head toward the scritch, to lean into it, to... "Oh, um. I... PSYCHLONE! We were talking about how to find Psychlone, so we can help her!" *Damn, I need to get back to a normal human- Soon!* Tabby broke contact and crossed the room, pacing and babbling nervously, "I... she told me if I thought about her, she would hear me if I was within range, but I have no clue what her range is, so I've been riding the rail doing the mental equivalent of yodeling her name. I haven't heard from her." Rags snapped out of her fascinated petting, only looking slightly disappointed, "You don't know? I thought you'd know where she is." "She said she'd find me if I called out to her. I've only tried for the last day, so maybe she's just waiting for a good time to get back, but I don't know." Ragamuffyn grumbled to herself, raising a clenched fist to her mask, all pensive and nervous, "Grrr...I've been trying to find her since all the stuff happened at the Zig...but..." She jumped up, rocking on her heels excitedly, "Maybe two brains are better than one! We could think really REALLY hard about it!" Tabitha didn't have anything better planned for the evening- Well, she'd planned to get Te'minowa, her level 43 human sorceress in EverWar to level 44, but with her laptop out of commission, that wasn't going to happen. Besides, she was probably right: More minds might cut through the "static" that Psychlone mentioned. "Ok, then. Let's focus on that, then." *And leave the 'pet kitty' thinking a safe SAFE distance away.* "We can find a roof or something!" *She grabbed the plate of lasagna almost possessively. "Can we, uh...take this with us?" "Sure, just don't drop it, okay? That's my only plate. I made the mistake of microwaving one of the ramen cups before. It was not pretty." Tabby opened the window out to the fire escape. She had used it to access the roof numerous times before. *With my luck, some lucky drone-flier is going to get a video of this.* "Hahahaha! Cool! This is gonna sooo great!" Ragamuffyn took the plate and followed after Tabby through the window, "We can scream with our brains! A guy I knew back home? He used to know how to do that. Like how to scream INTO someone's brain and scramble it all up. He did it to me once. It was awesome." Tabby climbed the stairs, resigned to the fact that her brains would probably be well-scrambled before this night was over.