Nightwalkers

By: Darkfang Magus

Part 1

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Night 1

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The Shadow

Thirty stories above the rumbling city streets, a shadow crouches. He could easily be mistaken for one of the various statues that hover over the edge.

They have everything, but in their ignorance, the populace strives to take more. The shadow looks almost human, until you see him up close. Dark gray-black fur covers most of his body. It fades to a lighter shade down his belly and on his neck, stopping just short of his bestial maw. His hands and feet are steadily brighter, almost white at the fingertips. Jet-black tiger stripes break up his outline, making you lose sight of him for a moment.

Wondering where he went, you cautiously peek over the edge. A glimmer catches your attention, as a dark form hurtles to the ground. The glimmer; it was the reflection of city lights off a silver cross that hangs from his neck. It is not the polished luster seen in jewelry store displays, but rather a purplish rainbow pattern caused by intense heat. You lose sight of him again, this time forever.

They do not even know we exist! The shadow screams in his mind. He lands ten floors down, but instead of the sound of breaking bones, and agonizing screams, he lands with no more than a whisper. His tail waves behind him, seemingly testing the air. The shadow flattens his ears, as his mind turns inward.

All these fools, they believe that the stories of old are nothing but fairytales. It happened, oh so long ago. A conflict of one species against the other. Humanity won the war, but they will never be rid of us. He leaps from the edge, relishing the sense of speed and danger that comes with the descent. Wind howls in his ears; to his mind, it is akin the cries of those lost. Several balconies later, he reaches the pavement.

He puts on some clothes hidden behind a dumpster. Bits of torn paper drift over his feet as he heads out of the alley. Trash litters the path; broken bottles have become havens for rats that patrol the byways.

I should go out there as I am. Just once, just to see the reaction... No, I cannot, there are still those who know. If they found that I am here, they would seek me out. His conflicted mind churns. He wants to destroy the faceless enemy which torments him, but sometimes he is not sure whether the enemy resides out there or inside himself.

Come on give me your best shot, fists clenched, the shadow challenges the gray sky. The dark clouds keep silent, seemingly to mock him.

His mind wanders back to childhood memories. He can feel his palms sweating, No I don't want to remember! The shadow closes his eyes and regulates his breathing. Before long, his mind is his own again. He buries the thoughts deep, hoping that, this time, they stay there forever.

Fur gives way to skin. His body changes as he steps out into the street. By the time he enters the throngs, he looks like just another face in the crowd.

I walk amongst you, but you never even notice. Only the creatures notice, the smell is different. They can notice this, but you the masses are blind. He leans down to pet a dog waiting at the bus stop with its master. The animal looks at him, knowingly. He can read its mind (simple as it is). The dog wonders why he is not on a leash. The stranger smiles toothily before fading back into the crowd.

The shadow makes his way back to the city's peak, this time with some food he had purchased. Scanning the skyline, he tears into the raw beef. Hearing the sound of him feasting, a nearby bird takes to flight. Startled, he draws his gun. Just a bird; Nothing to panic over. If I don't keep my head straight, then I am already dead. Breathing deeply, he uncocks the revolver.

The hammer does not quite lie in the right place, but a little nudge from his thumb straightens it out. I have to find a better weapon, he despairs over the rust pitted thing that he very leniently calls a weapon.

I will worry about that tomorrow, I have plenty of time. Nonchalantly tossing the wrapper over the edge, he continues his meal. I wonder if there is somewhere to get fresh meat, he considers this, as his fangs sink into the bloody hunk of cold beef. He gulps the last chunk, and then proceeds to groom the traces of blood from his fur.

Dawn is nigh. I guess I should get some sleep. The Shadow leaps into the glow of the horizon, hunting for a place to rest.

Kitty

Multicolored lights make a feeble attempt to illuminate the club. Music plays so hard that one can barely hear himself speak, much less anyone else, but it is just fine for the customers.

Kitty's bare feet traverse the hardwood stage. The music is fine with me too, who really cares what you have to say in a strip club. Swaying her hips in time to the beat, she enters the room. She flashes a fake smile down at the crowd, as she pulls a scant robe off her shoulders. What she wears underneath might as well have been painted on.

There are worse ways to make a living, Kitty thinks to herself as she reaches back to undo her bra, I can't think of any right now, but I'm sure there are.

A hand reaches up to grab her ankle. Reacting quickly, she stomps the intruder.

"Hands off the merchandise." She resumes unhooking her bra, much to the happiness of the crowd. Gotta watch out for the overanxious ones. I certainly do not want to be pulled off the stage like last week.

Cigar smoke assails Kitty's lungs as her top comes loose. The small bit of fabric drifts gently to the floor. In the next moment, some overzealous customer snags it. She stands there for half a second, looking at her naked tits, Maybe I should have listened to everyone, and stayed out of the city.

"Come on baby, dance".

The catcalls wake her from her reprieve. Once she begins to grind the dance pole, all of her actions become automatic. She no longer sees the horny patrons, no longer are her nostrils assaulted by the pungent odor of cheap cigar smoke. She thinks about the path which brought her to this place.

Her mother had died when she was fifteen. Taken in a car accident, to Kitty it seemed to be utter nonsense. Her mother was a cautious driver, but the official report said she had been going in excess of ninety miles per hour. Kitty had never had the chance to tell her about the strange power she possessed. Weird things began to happen to her, most notably was her ability to manipulate fire. It would be best not to dwell on fire, not now. The past begins to fade as she finishes her dance. To the patrons, she looks like just one more stripper, but the woman who struts off the stage has a destiny far beyond their pathetic minds.

Quicksilver

The roar of jet engines rushing toward the tarmac, it is like music to the assassin's ears. She sits at a window seat, row 18. Many of the men on board, assume she is a model, she has all the features of one. A slim five-eleven, she would not seem out of place on a Parisian catwalk. Her hair is not a mall salon special, but rather a five hundred dollar work of art. Each platinum-blue strand comes to rest in perfect alignment across her shoulders.

When the voice over the loudspeaker politely asks the occupants to exit the plane, she gets up with the grace of a well-mannered lady. The thoughts in her mind though, they are a frightening mix. Every step of her mission has been planned out in inestimable detail. She has no need to carry the target's photograph with her, it is memorized, and categorized along with everything else pertaining to the mission.

Upon entering the airport lobby, she casually scans the crowd. At the far side of the room, an overworked CEO is passed out on a green steel bench. Ten feet from him, a pair of children are fighting over nothing in particular. Near the entrance, she sees a desperate teen dip his hand into a passersby's purse, and acquire his meal, or habit for the day.

She takes note of all these things, but seeing as none of them seem to pertain to her current task, she heads to the baggage claim. The man at the baggage claim checks her I.D. (A good fake, nearly impossible to spot), and hands over her belongings.

Outside, she gets a taxi. The driver is fat and unkempt, but at least he speaks understandable English.

"Find me a hotel on the south side", she purrs.

The driver groans as he leans over the seat, to see his passenger. She is young, pretty, and on that side of town... a target.

"Is just muh upinyun lady, but yuh don' wanna go there."

"I said take me to the South side", she replies quietly. There is no power in her voice, but the look he sees in her eyes is enough to convince him to shut up. Those eyes are a window into the world of a savage inner beast, a lioness with no remorse for her prey.

At the hotel, Quicksilver checks her bags. That does not belong here. A white business card lies on the top of her clothes. Suspicious, she loads her pistol before calling the number.

The gun is light, mostly carbon fiber. Every piece customized to her exact specification. Eight rounds of .38 cal later, the weapon is ready. She digs deeper into her case and pulls out a second gun.

This one is the same platinum-blue as her hair. Made from colt parts on an Essex frame, and custom balanced, it is her personal favorite. Not only does the .45 cal have better stopping power, but being that it is made of standard parts (minus the frame of course), she has no worries that it will be traced back to her if she leaves the weapon at a crime scene. She grabs a clip of ammunition, the noses of fourteen hollow point .45 cal rounds disappear into the grip as the clip slides home.

One-handed she dials the number, while pushing the curtains back to check outside. The phone only has to ring once. A disembodied voice answers from the other end.

"Miss Quicksilver, I will assume you have found our card." her eyes narrow menacingly."I do not like people messing with my things, who are you".

"Who are we, don't you mean", another voice replies, "we are your employers".

"Well great", she answers indignantly, "I have all the information I need for this assignment, do not attempt to contact me again, I will inform you when the mission is complete".

"We at the agency, understand your concern, but you are not the first we have sent after him. If we fail to hear from you on twenty-four hour intervals, it will be assumed that you are dead. In which case we will void your contract, even in the unlikely situation you survive. We like to keep our animals on a short leash."

Quicksilver's stomach tightens for a moment animal. Her anger soon gives way to uneasiness. After hanging up the phone, she takes a moment to think the situation over. animal...could they know, or is it just a coincidence. The intermittent drip of the bath faucet is the only company she has for her thoughts.

Her deep predatory eyes shine in the lamplight. She does not attempt to hurry her decision, rash action can bring about the downfall of anyone. The colt feels heavy in her hand. She surveys the weapon's finely etched lines, as she contemplates the demise of her agency connections.

I cannot take the chance. She cocks her weapon, and then lets it dangle between her knees. Head bowed, her hair becomes a curtain blocking the world. Quicksilver knows what must be done. All that is visible is the sleek barrel of her .45 automatic. After the contract is finished, my employers shall also be. None can know my secret.

Night 2

A yellow school bus remains parked in the lot while the driver waits for his passengers. Some come alone and some in groups. The laughter is mixed with shouts of reprisal as the bus begins to fill. Three rows back, a dark haired boy of ten, sits talking to his friend.

"I almost died laughing, when Tammy slipped in the cafeteria", his blond hair friend remarks.

The dark-haired boy laughs in reaction to the story. He has a name but it cannot quite be placed. There is a decidedly metallic click toward the front of the bus. A man stands at the helm, in his hand is a huge revolver. All the children fall dead silent as he lifts the weapon. There is a small click as the hammer falls, followed by the deafening gunshot.

The man flees from the vehicle. None notice his escape, all eyes are on the third row of seats. There is blood everywhere. The dark-haired boy thinks that the red river is his own, until he sees the torn chest of his friend. Those blank eyes will haunt him forever...

*

Screaming, the stranger sits bolt upright. Sweat leaves a film on his skin, and his heart races. He tries to tell himself that this is the here and now, there is no reason to fear the past. Reason or not, he cannot let it go. The man had been aiming for him, he knows this now. It is by mere chance that he is alive to this day. He falls back to the floor. Feeling wasted, the stranger takes a moment for his thoughts.

Calm down before you kill yourself. You are no good to anybody, dead. The stranger rolls over, his mind tells him to get up, but his body is none too pleased. Who am I keeping myself alive for? There are none who love the broken creature I have become, not even I. The stranger puts his fingers to the corners of his eyes. A pressure is building there. What if it did not happen. How do I know that I did not imagine the whole thing? What reason do I have to believe a madman. A man who thinks he is an animal. The pain in his head is searing now. Remember your past. Only then can the future be clear. he is now clawing at the sides of his face.

"NO, No, no", he wrenches his hands from his face. Blood oozes from underneath the nails. The coppery smell tickles his nostrils. When his heart slows, he lays back for a moment. None of that matters, once I find them, the truth will be clear, I am sure of it. The last assassin said they ran their businesses out of this city, I only need to find the agency. At least I think that is what they call themselves. If I am right, then they will die, possibly along with me. If not, then I truly am insane. If that is the case, then may god have mercy on whomever I run into. What sanity I have left, will surely perish in light of such information.

Spending the night on cold concrete seems to take more energy than it gives back. Staring up from his resting place, he takes a moment to recollect exactly where he is. Rusted steel pipes loom overhead. An ancient boiler stands forlorn and forgotten in the corner. Its twisted carbon-scored tank is a reminder of the coal fires that used to heat this city. Now its once fiery mouth hangs open, Begging for the coal it once consumed with such abandon.

He makes his way to a nearby stairwell. Walking toward the stair, he lets his body turn. As he takes the form of the Catrai, new energy flows within him. He rarely remembers the days anymore, his world has become the night. Grimy paws reach for the cross at his breast. Eyes closed, he mummers softly.

"Mother, they will pay", he clenches the crucifix.

Stepping out into the night, he surveys the surroundings for potential enemies. Time to find a new gun.

The street signs mean nothing to him. He only cares that he is in the city. While traveling along the roof, the predator searches for likely victims. To the north, he hears a gunshot

"purrfect".

He reaches the scene in moments. The scum below take no notice the dark figure looming over them. Four men speaking a crazed mix of Spanish and English, are brandishing pistols. On the gravel, a frightened executive cowers.

"Yo neccesito cash hombre. Tu give it a' me."

The gibberish means nothing to the suit, he simply screams for them to leave. They hover over him, maniacal grins pasted on their faces. The shadow watches on in interest, his murderous intents put aside for the moment. The apparent leader of this homicidal group, lifts his weapon and fires two rounds into the cowering man's legs. The bullets pass through and come to rest in the gravel, while a rivulet of blood appears.

"Soy el diablo, y so yo kill tu ahora mismo." He pulls back the hammer on his revolver. It replays memories in the twisted mind of the creature above them. In the shadow's mind, the gunman is the bus shooter.

"NO!" he leaps from the ledge.

Four confused faces look up in response to his outburst. He falls on one, crushing the man's spine. The paralyzed man does not have a chance to scream before his throat is torn out. The other three begin to shoot wildly. Their faces are still bearing those dope-addled grins. The shadow swallows the chunk of rent flesh held in his jaws. A bestial growl rumbles from his throat. The sound is so eerie that it seems to come straight from his twisted soul. The shadow sinks his fangs into the gun arm of the nearest man. Their smiles remain unchanged.

"What is so blasted funny!", the shadow yells.

They stop shooting and begin talking to each other after hearing the creature speak. The shadow does not know why, but the lull disturbs him. He reacts by dismembering the nearest man. Two remain, then one.

The last, drops his weapon to the ground. Falling to his knees, he begs for mercy in his garbled dialect.

"You shot Timothy", The shadow shrieks as he sinks his claws into the man's face. He wrenches the man's head, slamming it against the brick wall.

"YOU", he slams the man against the bricks again but with more ferocity, "IT WAS ALL YOU". Repeatedly he pounds the man's shattered skull against the brick. Soon the thing he is pounding no longer resembles anything human. He drops the corpse to the ground, and stares at his claws curiously. Blood and gore is mixed with a tangle of hair. No, they did not kill Timmy..., another piece of the puzzle falls into place.

"Timmy, his name was Timmy. But what was mine", he talks to himself unaware of the executive five feet away. He hears a sound, seemingly distant. Concerned, he leaves his thoughts for the moment, and notices the businessman, for what seem like the first time.

"Thank you sir." Thank you for saving my life", weeping, his glasses broken, he does not even notice the fur on his savior's body.

"Saving you? Is that what you thought I was doing?" The shadow chuckles as he grabs the guns and whatever money the thugs were carrying.

"I am nobody's savior. I probably retain less sanity then them. Perhaps that is why I am alive and they are naught but mangled flesh", he kicks the fallen man over, and then pulls a wallet from his back pocket.

"What do you think?" The shadow asked inquisitively, his ears perking up as he speaks.

"You are scaring me".

"No, you are not scared yet; definitely not yet. Just pray that you do not run into me on a bad day", he growls out the final words.

Chuckling to himself, the shadow fades into the shaded back alley.

*

Kitty pushes her way through the backstage hustle-and-bustle of the club. Grabbing her night's pay, she gets dressed. She is zipping up her leather jacket, when the door behind her opens.

"Hello Kitty", the manager smirks at her.

Eyes narrowing, she fondles the lighter in her pocket." I told you before, I hate it when people greet me as if I am some Chinese product. Next time, ya get five in the eyes, aye?"

"Whoa cool it Kitty", he puts up his hands defensively, "I just wanted to know if you would like to get a bite to eat".

She could hear him saying he wanted to feed her, but his actions and tone told her a different story.

"You wanna get laid, look elsewhere, I'm not that easy". She flips him off as she leaves the room.

"Hey Kitty, you have me wrong. I don..." She slams the door in his face. Her pace quickens as she heads to her car. By the time she sees it, she is running, from what she knows not.

Kitty yanks the door open and falls in the driver's seat. Instead of driving, she chooses to lay her forehead on the steering wheel. Tears run from her eyes. She mutters to herself, "You know what Kitty, he didn't do a thing." I'm afraid... after what happened last time. Isn't reason enough.

She flips open her lighter, and rolls the igniter. A small but strong flame burns brightly. With a thought, she causes the fire to float to her hand. It grows brighter and stronger, until the fire resembles a flaming baseball. Anything could happen, her mind drifts to the past.

She was young, that she knew for sure, that and the fire. Back then, she had been called Katrina, (these days, that name can only be found on her driver's license). Her boyfriend and she had come to a decision, why wait when life was fleeting. Life, that fragile thing we all desperately cling to. He had lit candles all around the room, the flickering light illuminated her as she bared herself to him. She was insecure, and tense. He lovingly massaged her shoulders as she sat on the corner of the bed. Something had come over her; what it was, she did not know.

The room had seemed to be getting brighter, and then he had pulled his hands back with a yell. She opened her eyes and saw a ball of flame floating in the air. The fire is not what had scared him though. Silky yellow fur had inexplicably grown all across her body. Fascinated with the fire and oblivious to her transformation, she distorted the flickering fire, with her thoughts. Just by imagining it, she could move the flame.

Her boyfriend wanted nothing to do with her anymore. He yelled at her, telling her she was a demon. Angered she threw the first thing at hand. Unfortunately, it had been the fireball. After that she had run. Naked, lost, and confused, she hid in the woods until her fur disappeared. Her foster parents were furious with her when she came home four days later. They told her that some cops had been looking for her. Kitty had refused to answer the questions she was bombarded with.

That night, she packed what little she owned, and headed out. She did not have much money, but she knew where to get a car. An hour's walk brought her to the scrap yard. There in the corner of the junkyard, stood her mother's old Ford Cougar, the car she had been killed in. Her foster parents had forbidden Katrina from bringing it home. They wanted her to let go of the past, but that night, the past was all she had left.

All four tires lay flat, rust pitted the metal, but the mechanic on duty managed to get it to crank. She spent her remaining funds on a set of used tires. Cruising out of town, slowly just in case the cops were looking for her, she never looked back.

*

Kitty raises her head from the steering wheel, and breathes deeply. Though her past will never leave her, she refuses to let it consume what little peace of mind she has. The flame dissipates. She starts her car, if I'm alone for the rest of my life, it will be better than what happened last time.

The1968 Mercury Cougar (now her car, not her mother's) jolts its way into reverse. The engine threatens to quit. Soothingly she talks to the dash.

"Easy baby, don't jump the gun".

The car was built to run fast, it is never happy when she idles through the city. Only one of the four headlights work, the left fender is missing, for that matter the entire driver's side of the car is a mangled mosaic. No matter how bad it looks on the outside, the tires are nearly new street-racing quality slicks. The racing tuned 351 Windsor engine, is paired with a T5 transmission. She had lovingly added each of the modified parts herself. To her it was a kind of therapy, much like her talks with Aztec.

She hits the highway and lets the engine roar. It seems that the motor is vying to overwhelm the blaring rock music. Her mind is elsewhere as she works her way through the gears. There is something different about tonight, she can almost smell it in the air. The empty road leads her to the city zoo. The complex is closed this late at night, but Alissa, the caretaker of the big cats, lets her in the back.

"Back so soon", Alissa quips.

"I had a rough night".

"Ahh"

"How's Aztec doin?" Kitty asks while gesturing toward the Jaguar den.

"Fine"

"Can I see him?"

"Katrina, just because you grew with him as a pet is not a good enough reason to assume he will not tear you to pieces."

"Uh huh, so can I see him?" Kitty asks impatiently.

"He is not a pet housecat. Personally, I don't think it's a good idea."

"He was, before my mother died. It's not my fault social services wouldn't let a little girl own an exotic pet." Kitty stands firm.

"Fine, but if you get eaten, It is your fault not mine." Kitty just smiles as Alissa opens the cage. She goes through with this banter every time Kitty visits. Kitty would have thought Alissa would just give up, but the woman is persistent. At least she doesn't sit and bite her nails anymore while watching me.

Alissa lets out an exasperated sigh, as she waves Kitty in. The jaguar rushes up to greet Kitty immediately upon her entrance. Alissa goes back to work, but not without warning Kitty one last time about getting mauled, or eaten.

"Aztec, I'm sure glad to see you", Kitty wraps her arms around his furry torso.

The big cat just nuzzles her and growls happily. Kitty cannot help but let out a sigh of pleasure herself. The large male jaguar was getting a little slow as he got older, but was like a cub when she came around for visits. It was as if he knew... Perhaps he did.

Kitty kisses his forehead and thinks about what her mother had told her. It was a story so odd that she only treated it as a little fantasy most of the time. In fact, she spent many hours wondering if her mother really was a bit insane. Still, Kitty herself had never completely been able to get the idea out of her mind. As her mother had put it, this jaguar was her father.

Kitty sits silent for a moment thinking about that again. It was obviously impossible, but she had never found evidence to say anyone else could be her father, and she was certain her mother and this cat would have been capable of copulation. He had been just as gentle with her mother as he always was with Kitty.

Kitty is pensive as she asks the jaguar again. "Is it true?" No real answer though. Just that continued sense of mystery.

"Maybe I'm crazy now too," Kitty thinks aloud.

Settling down, Kitty spends about an hour talking to the cat about her day. Soon her eyelids begin to droop. Her head sinks into his warm fur, and minutes later, she is sound asleep.

*

Quicksilver makes her way down the crowded sidewalk. At the street corner, she finds a newsstand. A city bus sits rumbling at the stoplight, as Quicksilver purchases a paper. She rolls a silver dollar along her knuckles while skimming the headlines for news of her target. Four pages in, there is an interview with the executive of Intellicorp.

The article recounts the violent deaths of several would-be muggers. Quicksilver memorizes the location of the event, with hope of finding a lead. The manner in which the killing took place, is similar to the target's previous murders.

By midday, she reaches the alley. Yellow crime-scene tape blocks off the entrance, but the city is too underfunded to enforce these rules. She crouches under the yellow bands, and then heads into the back of the alley. The pattern of bullet holes and location of blood pools lead her to the conclusion that the muggers were not shot down. She closely surveys the crushed brick along the alley wall, This has got his name written all over it. Satisfied with her investigation she chooses to rent a room in the vicinity. If her luck holds, she may catch up with him this very night.

Night 3

A dark-haired boy ran through the woods. Nameless, his existence barely remembered.

A spray of crimson marked his shirt. Fear ate at him, driving him forward. Only one thought was on his mind, home, everything will be all right if I get home.

Branches tore at his clothing and skin, but he cared not. There was a break in the canopy ahead. He was almost there. He burst out of the woods, like a fleeing deer. Stumbling, almost falling face-first, he landed in his backyard.

Acrid fumes burned his lungs. He could not comprehend what he saw, his home, that one place where he could have felt safe, was aflame. Tendrils of fire licked the gutters, the windows had cracked from the intense heat. At the front of the house, a car sat waiting to be consumed. Not just any car, but the car, the family car. Undoubtedly, everyone was home, but they were not outside.

Dread took away all coherent thoughts. It was pulling at the pit of his stomach, attempting to drag him down, make him faint. Though they wished to resist, he willed his legs to move.

The front door hung from a single hinge as it waved about like a loose sail. Inside, the smoke was noxiously thick. Nearly blinded by ash, he traveled by memory. Unbelievably, he managed to keep calm. His skin was being scorched by the wayward flames that worked their way into the hall. Deep in the house, he heard a choked moaning sound.

The first door on his right led to his sister's room. Crawling on hands and knees, he made his way to the smoke-shrouded figure lying on the floor. He shook her shoulder, but got no response. She lay dead, one shot to the chest and one to the head. Horrified, he pulled his hands away.

Tears washed clear rivulets down the ten-year-old boy's face. He would have sat there until he burned to death, had he not heard another weak moan coming from the back of the house.

Unable stand anymore due to the smoke and flame, he crawled on his way to the back bedroom. The rug was burning in places, but he was sure to avoid those. He found the bottom of the bedroom door. It was the only shut door he had come across since entering the house.

The doorknob sizzled in his hand, but he felt no pain as he turned it. Adrenaline coursed through him when the door burst open. The pressure from the fire, ripped the door from its hinges and sent it flying down the hall.

He hardly took notice that it barely missed beheading him. Amid the flame, he saw his mother curled up in a ball. Against the wall, seven five-gallon cans of fuel were waiting to ignite. She was coughing weakly. He stood, and then ran to her. She was wearing her work clothes but they were stained a deep red. In her arms, she clutched his brother.

The dark-haired boy knew the boy was dead. His eyes had a glazed look to them, and no breath came from his lungs. He grabbed his mother's hand and pulled. She rolled onto her back, seeming not to recognize him at first.

"What are you doing here?", she asked weakly.

"Mother, come with me everything is on fire".

"Go, leave now", she coughed blood.

"You have to come with me", he was crying again.

"I am not long to this world. Take this and go" she pulled the only family heirloom she had, an engraved silver cross, from her neck, and then placed it in his hand.

"But", he was barely able to speak through the tears running down his face.

"Now go, my dear..." He could see his name on her lips, but before she uttered a sound, the rest of the fuel reached its combustion threshold. He had the sensation that he was hovering over the ground. He was pulled forward as the imploding fuel sucked air to its center. In that moment, he saw his mother's face for the last time. The resulting explosion vaporized everything in the room, everything but him.

*

Screaming at the top of his lungs, the stranger awakens. He reaches for the heat-stained cross at his neck. Not finding it, he panics. Heart racing, it is several moments before he realizes he is already holding it in his other hand. His fingers trace the small v engraved on the back. Like most of his past, he has no idea what the letter symbolizes.

Drenched with sweat, the stranger rocks slowly, clutching the cross. He is naked, around him lay a variety of pistols, but all the guns in the world cannot give him the comfort the small silver heirloom bestows. He does not know what magical properties the silver cross was imbued with, but it saved his life that day. Now it is a constant reminder of why he needs to push forward. Even if he has no wish to live; those who had taken everything from him, they will pay with their lives.

He has no notions that revenge will cure his state of mind. He is far beyond that. It simply will restore balance to things.

The surroundings are not so strange this time. He recognizes the decrepit building he had awakened inside of the previous night. He has no idea where he had left his clothes, but it makes little difference. He has no need for vestments, not during the night.

He takes a deep breath of the night air. Barely perceptible, there is a scent. He becomes the shadow, and then takes another breath. Fleeting though it may be, there is the aroma of a Catrai in heat. He knows there is important work to be done, but the scent takes hold of his very mind. Draw to it, he leaves all thoughts of vengeance behind, for the moment.

The pheromonal signal enlivens his most basic instincts as it tickles his nose in a manner akin to an unseen feather. Like a madman, he sprints along the rooftops. It suddenly seems to him, that finding the source of this tantalizing message is the only thing that matters in the world.

*

Kitty has finished her final dance for the night. As the Mercury Cougar rolls through the cityscape, her face is the unmoving visage of one who has driven the same road many times over. One kilometer from her apartment, Kitty feels a strange warmth growing within. Strange, but familiar. Keys in hand, she is releasing the deadbolt to her apartment, when she recognizes the feeling. It is the same sensation she had that night in the past. The night of fire. Her heart begins to race. Wild thoughts run in her mind. Not again, someone will find out.

She rushes into her room, slamming the door as she enters. Her world seems to be coming down around her. Frantically, she locks and chains the door. The room feels too open, too apt to leave her exposed. For a moment, she is sure that someone is standing outside the balcony window. Kitty dives into her closet. With the door shut, she feels somewhat safe.

Kitty's tongue feels strange in her mouth, almost as if it is getting rougher. Hands trembling, she brings her fingers to her lips. Instead of skin, she feels fur. A small shriek slips from her mouth. In the next moments, her clothes begin to feel hot, and unbearably confining. Panting, Kitty reaches to undo the buttons on her blouse, but accidentally cuts it loose with a claw. In the dim light of her hiding spot, she sees sharp white claws extending from her fingertips. Still, the closet is sweltering hot, so she tears her jeans free and crouches naked gasping for breath.

In the bedroom there is a dull thump, then the musical sound of shattered glass coming to rest on a hard surface.

I did see someone out there on the balcony, but how is that possible, I'm twenty-three stories up.

Footsteps so soft they are only given away by the crinkle of glass, make their way into the room.

Just take what you want and go away, Kitty thinks, cringing, and all too aware of how exposed she is while sitting naked on the closet floor.

"I want you." the intruder's voice comes from the room.

What? I did not say that aloud. Kitty is perplexed.

"You did not have to say it, I can sense it. Now where are you hiding, the room is overwhelmed with your scent, I cannot judge its direction."

Yeah right, If he thinks I will tell some psychic psycho where I am then he really must be crazy, Kitty thinks grimly.

"Crazy... Maybe so, but what I feel now, you too feel. I can read it in your thoughts." He makes a quick inspection of the bathroom, before standing at the closet door with his hand on the knob.

Someone, anyone, please help. An idea comes to mind. She remembers her lighter. Kitty is in the process of removing it from her pants pocket, when the door eases open.

She stands still, not a hair on her head moving. Kitty desperately wishes she could just sink into the floor at that very moment. Swinging like a headsman's ax, the doorway opens fully. Even though it is pitch black in the room, she can see the intruder in agonizing detail. He, (if you could go as far as calling him a man) is covered in dark gray fur. His face is bestial and catlike.

Her first instinct is to crawl deeper into the closet, but something stops her. Calm overcomes Kitty suddenly, she no longer feels the need to hide. This stranger wants only one thing. She knows what it is, her every sense drives her to give it to him.

The shadow looks down at the frightened kitten on the floor. She is Catrai much like him, but her markings are different. Her face, though covered in fine white fur, is decidedly human. Apart from the fur, catlike ears, and her tail, she is very much the same as a human. Her fur is the exact color and pattern as a jaguar's, right down to the rosettes tattooed along her back.

His hand goes out to her. By taking it, she relinquishes her fear and replaces it with trust. The shadow pulls Kitty up to her feet. Her scent, it intoxicates him. During his years of running, he had never known such a sensation.

Low and soft in her throat, there are the first rumbles of a purr. The moonlight coming through the balcony doorway, falls upon her now feline form. She stands on her padded toes to rub her face against his cheek.

The shadow buries his muzzle in the fur of her neck. Silky soft, it feathers his nose. He reaches out to hold her. When his hand falls on Kitty's shoulder, she shies away. Confused by her attraction to him, she stands back a little way, her tail waves spasmodically.

Slowly, she pads her way back to him. Kitty looks up into his face, she desperately needs him to hold her, but she is nervous. Kitty looks down and blushes as her attention is caught by his protruding member. She cannot take her eyes away. Something beyond her control, draws her to him.

She crouches to her knees. In front of her, his rigid penis pulses. Kitty leans forward slowly, cautiously. The scent of him draws her closer yet. Her nose brushes him and she pulls away for a moment. A drop of precum at the tip glistens in the moonlight. Her mouth waters, as she leans forward again.

Kitty's tongue protrudes from her lips just barely as she tastes him.

The shadow groans when he feels the roughness of her tongue against his furred balls. He beckons her to strive upward as she becomes bolder. Kitty's travels bring her to the slick red skin of his penis. Overwhelmed with the feeling, he reaches down to caress her.

Feeling a hand on her body, Kitty jumps back. She comes to rest on her bed. Penetrating gold eyes survey him. She wants to mate with this creature of the night. It is beyond her reasoning why she needs this so badly. To her body, these urges are set so deep that they overcome her inhibitions.

The shadow waits for a moment, before approaching her. She sits on the bed, radiant in all her beauty. Kitty meticulously licks her paw, and then wipes it across her face. Her feline side has taken over completely, it is visible in the very manner that she moves, sensuously and gracefully. He approaches carefully, not wanting her to shy away. He cautiously sits on the end of the bed, and then reaches his hand out to her.

She rubs her cheek against his hand, purring louder now. Kitty averts her eyes when his hand moves down her back. Her tail whips sharply, as instinctive wants drive her actions. His hands calm her, little by little. Eyes partially lidded, she stretches out on top of the sheets.

The shadow gently caresses the curvaceous silhouette of her body. At first, her knees are held tightly together, but with each pass of his hand, they open a little more.

Kitty looks out to the night sky as she relents, and lets her legs spread. The soft moonlight reflects in her feline eyes, causing them to seem ethereal. One hand unconsciously moves to the swell of her right breast.

The shadow places his hands on her inner thighs, and then gently spreads Kitty's legs. Once her virgin sex is revealed to him, he admires it while massaging the surrounding skin. He touches a finger to the moisture building there. She is almost ready. More insistently now, he touches her, and licks the inner thighs.

Kitty slowly squeezes her breast, while she feels a foreign hand graze her labia. His persistence soon overwhelms her. Kitty writhes on the bed before rolling onto her belly. Her tail turns to the side, giving him full view of her pussie. He watches as a drop of Kitty's pussie juice collects on her clit. Before her sweet nectar can fall to the sheets and become wasted, he stretches out his tongue and licks it.

Kitty mewls and paws at the sheets when her engorged clit it stimulated. Deep-rooted animal urges spread like wildfire. Kitty raises her rump slightly more, and arches her back, causing her boobs to swing freely beneath her. Seductively, she sways her hips.

The shadow sees her wiggle her rump invitingly, and he nearly shoots his load across her curved back, at that very moment. Balls churning, he crouches over her. His pulsating tiger cock looks far too big to ever fit into the jaguaress' petite slit.

Kitty spreads her legs a little wider, as she waits there at his mercy. Her pussy burns with a fire she had never truly known before. Her body feels somehow empty without him in her. Kitty's feminine channel pulses in anticipation of receiving him. She arches her back harder, exhibiting the most acute form of lordosis she can muster.

The shadow is so lost with taking in the sight of her, that he is still for a moment. Just staring as a drop of precum trickles down the length of his shaft, his mind is already playing out the act they are about to commit.. He can see her wetness clearly as well; she is literally dripping. He rubs the head of his cock against her sex, but stops to taste her on his tongue. She is ready, and he watches as a stream of Kitty's honey slowly travels along the inside of her thigh. Mouth watering with her flavor, the shadow licks his jowls voraciously.

His cock is throbbing painfully now, and even his balls ache with the need. His member feels huge and harder than he had ever known it to be. It is like a glowing hot piece of steel between his legs. There is no way he can turn back from this. His body and his instincts want it. Any reasoning his mind might utter is deemed insignificant.

Inhaling deeply, his thoughts are lost in her scent. All inhibition leaves his mind. He growls low in his throat, he is a tiger and she will be his mate. It is plain and simple. As she waves her rump in an excruciatingly tantalizing manner, he relents. For the animal within, instinct is all that matters, and instinct tells him to mate.

Kitty shivers as his cockhead comes in contact with her vagina. It is warm and insistent, pushing against her sex. She purrs deeper still, so strongly that the guttural sound becomes more of a growl. Clawing at the sheets in her bestial state of mind, Kitty begs him to take her.

He slowly presses forward, barely parting the lips of her sex. She tenses for a brief second, and then motions for him to continue. He goes deeper still, almost the whole head of his penis is within her. Saliva dripping from his fangs, he licks the nape of her neck.

Kitty feels a sharp pain as he finds resistance inside her. She cries out, trying to pull away, but his jaws clamp around the back of her neck. A small cry falls from her lips, as his next insistent thrust breaks through her hymen.

The shadow feel her jump, instinctively he grips tighter with his jaws. He slowly drives himself in and out of her until she relaxes. Before long, the tightness in her muscles fades as she begins to accept him.

Kitty bites down on her lower lips until the pain subsides. Slowly, as the pain she feels from his spined cock begins to become bearable, she stops fighting him. After a little longer, she starts to feel a sense of pleasure building inside her. It is like a warm glow that steadily spreads from her tender pussie outward.

Gradually, the shadow can sense that she is moving her body with his own. He quickens the pace, knowing he will not last much longer. Her waving tail brushes his back, and casts shadows upon them in the moonlight.

The warmth Kitty feels, seems to be reaching out to her very toes. A somewhat silly smile crosses her face, as their coitus comes to its crescendo. She feels his pulsing member drive deeply into her and hold for a moment before sliding out. On the next stroke, he holds longer. Kitty wishes for him to remain within her forever.

The shadow's balls slap wetly against his mate as he drives forward with one final thrust. He feels that everything in him is about to explode out of his cock. Biting down on her neck and tasting blood, his balls pull upward as the first of his seed comes rushing forth.

Kitty cries out with her growling purr, as a hot fluid fills her. Her vaginal muscles convulse, trying to draw the semen from her mate.

The shadow drowns out Kitty's growls, with a roar. The roar resounds down the city street for miles. In their room, fragments of glass rattle along the tile. He cares not that others may hear. He wants them to hear, to know he has mated. It is his privilege to announce it. Gritting his teeth through another roar, he strives to release his last few bursts of feline semen.

Inside her well-mated pussie, Kitty feels his penis retracting. Instinctively, she swipes a clawed paw at him. He narrowly misses being slashed, as he leaps off her. Sitting a little distance away, the shadow watches Kitty roll onto her back.

Murring happily, Kitty arches her spine and lets her tail become entwined in the sheets. The feeling of her warm cum-filled pussie leaves her mellow, and content.

The shadow meticulously licks his member back into its sheath. Once he is done, he sits beside Kitty. His hand goes out to rub her belly, eliciting a satisfied purr. She curls up against him, her head in his lap, as she drifts off to sleep. For many hours, the shadow sits watching over Kitty. He is her silent guardian, unmoving for fear of waking her. He brushes her hair out of her face while watching her dream.

"Perhaps, there is something to fight for after all." he mutters to himself.

Kitty's eyes flutter open, "did you say something?"

"It will be dawn soon", the shadow remarks as he looks outside to the balcony.

"So", Kitty looks up from her warm spot on his lap. Her radiance causes the shadow to pause for a moment.

"I must go, they cannot be allowed to find me. Only by night may I hunt them unnoticed"

"Hunt? Who? What are you talking about"

"Goodbye, my sweet kitten. I pray we shall meet again." He gently moves her head as he rises from the bed.

"No, you can't leave. I don't even know your name."

The shadow stands frozen for a moment. Her words cut him deeper than she could ever know.

"Neither do I."

"Huh?"

"There is naught left of me but the shadow of a man who might have been", with a running start, he leaps off the balcony. Kitty treads across the glass-littered floor, unconcerned about being cut. She leans over the balcony to see a dark form sprinting across the rooftops. Soon there is no trace of him.

"Shadow. Is that your name?" She ponders such thoughts for several minutes, before the first rays of dawn's light make her realize someone might see that she is naked. Kitty heads into her room, closing the drapes behind.

*

On the opposing rooftop, the glint of a scope catches the sun's rays as its owner packs up her equipment. Along with the sniper rifle, is a directional mic. Quicksilver snaps her rifle-case shut.

"First I have to deal with that girl", Quicksilver mutters to herself, "can't afford to have loose ends lying about". Her face betrays no emotion as she heads to the stairwell.

"After that, I take care of this Shadow."

To be continued...