Oh So Tragic

The fact that there had been FBI and CIA agents after her for years, and maybe a few assassins and mercenaries in the mix should have made her just a bit worried, but of course at the moment she was too distracted to think about that. She had made a little trouble at a bar a few minutes ago and now she was running. Not that she wouldn't love a good fight, but she usually liked it to be under her own terms, and in a more.....comfortable place.

So she was leading them down the street. Breathing through her teeth, she began to get her feet into their own rhythm, breathing with it. She glanced to the side and noticed they were now using a car, catching up to her with ease. Oh, come on. No fair. But she shrugged it off, smiling to herself as she ran. More fun for me, I suppose. With a skip and a hop, she landed right in front of one of the black cars and the people inside slammed on the brakes, sure that they were going to hit her.

The white cat sighed. They aren't even mad enough to run me over. How boring.

The black car screeched to a halt an inch away from her, but her orange eyes didn't even blink, watching silently as the big orange retriever she'd cheated the poker money from stepped angrily out of the car, slamming the door. "What the hell did you do that for?!"

She grinned. "Wait, which thing are you talking about? Me stealing your money, or the fact that I just purposefully put myself in front of your car?"

The retriever growled. "Does it matter? They were both irritating and idiotic." He now stood next to her, and she had to put a crick in her neck just trying to meet his brown eyes.

"I'd like to think of it as sneaky and psychotic. It sounds more intelligent."

The dog's face began to look a bit strained. "Just give me the money back and I'll leave you alone." He stuck his hand out, gesturing for her to hand it over.

Her eyes widened. "What?!" As if this was a strange thing to ask of her. "Give it back? If I did that my reputation would practically crumble!"

The orange dog suddenly looked confused. "You are making absolutely no sense... who the hell are you?"

The white cat paused as he asked his question, then slowly, ever so slowly, she began to smile. The smile almost twisted up into a snarl, the whites of her eyes showing slightly. "I am the only bad-ass outlaw in this country that hasn't tried to hide her identity with fake names." She paused, showing her teeth. "I've got enemies on every corner of this town- of this city- of this country." Her ears pricked as she heard sirens a few blocks away. "And those are probably for me."

The dog was quickly getting a sinking feeling in his stomach as her face suddenly became all too familiar. He glanced up at a store front across the street and immediately saw a poster out for this cat's arrest. Her face was plastered over every window, wall, pole, web-page, and TV screen he'd ever seen, and he hadn't recognized her until too late. Whitefire Zilaco Tequilla.

"Would you like your money back now?"

The dog looked down at her, his breathing quickening as the flashing lights from police cars came around the corner and she still didn't break her gaze away from him. "Y-yes." He could hardly speak.

She shrugged and he let out a sighed of relief as she pulled out what he thought was money from her pocket, but then snapped his teeth shut in fear as she cocked the gun that was suddenly in her hand. "Don't move."

Turning to the police with a twisted grin, she pointed the gun at the retriever's head. "IN YOUR FACE." she yelled at them, and pulled the trigger. It had a silencer, so they happened to hear her next comment over the sirens. "Forgive the pun." she laughed, kicking the dead body of the retriever away from her feet. "You're a bit too late, as usual."

As machine guns shattered the glass of the car's windshield, she ducked and ran, her mouth wide open and her teeth showing in laughter. "HAHA!! The idiots!"

Wings suddenly appeared on her back and she shot upward, flying low over the buildings and quickly out of their reach. She'd probably feel bad later. Maybe.

The noise and lights of the police cars soon faded and she perched herself carefully on a telephone wire stretched between two houses, just above an alleyway. She put her wings away, balancing easily as she practically skipped across the wire and onto the next house's roof and let herself drop down to the ground after swinging from the rain gutter. Humming quietly to herself, she straightened her clothes out a bit and walked happily down the alleyway to the closest grated gutter and pulled the iron bars up, slipping down into a tunnel and closing it again. Her feet splashed through the still water until she came to a cement door and pulled out a key, unlocking it and stepping into a softly lit underground living-room.

Soft carpet, leather furniture, and pillows- so many pillows. To her left was a short hallway to the kitchen, which, of course, had marble counters. The silverware was actual silver, and the wine glasses just happened to be diamond.

Past the kitchen was the dining room. A long oak wood table with about twelve chairs around it sat directly under the golden chandelier.

Whitefire wiped her feet on the first step by the door and walked to her own room, which had many more expensive belongings, including a king sized bed with pillows and blankets you could practically drown in. There were about three other extra rooms exactly like her own.

Why did she need all this? She didn't. But with all the money she had, there was too much of it to just let it sit there. She felt like it was her way of giving back to the community. Giving money to the businesses, keeping many of them open with an anonymous buyer.

She laughed at herself, taking the money she'd stolen out of her pocket and carefully counted the coins, wrapping them and packing them together in tens. The paper money she coordinated by amount. All of this at her desk in her room.

When she'd finished counting- though she didn't actually care how much it really was- it amounted to 551 dollars and 12 cents. "Wow, good poker game." she chuckled to herself and left the room, going to the living-room again. She almost turned to the kitchen, but decided against it. "I'll just end up drinking too much wine..." So, instead, she crashed on the couch, grabbing the TV remote and turning on the news.

Breaking news. It was about her.

Smiling, she closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep to the tragic story of an innocent retriever. Another victim of Whitefire Zilaco Tequilla.

*      *      *

“They think I'm CRAAAAAZYYY~” Singing to herself, Whitefire washed the few dishes left in the sink and put them away, then leaned against the counter, going through a few of the letters she'd gotten, requesting commissions from her. Mostly to perform a theft of some valuable, but once in a while she'd get one offering her money to kill a certain target.

She sighed, feeling too lazy at the moment to actually answer back. “I wish they'd just send an e-mail or something...” She picked one randomly out of the stack and opened it with a claw, unfolded it, and slowly began to read it.

Suddenly her eyes narrowed and she gripped the paper a bit tighter, her claws ripping it slightly.

W.Z.T.,

I have need of assistance in a certain matter, of which I will explain below as clearly as I can.

Your objective will be to gain information from a wealthy scientist of the name Ralone Stalin Bolshakov. He was given an invitation to attend a party of a well known aristocrat in your area. He accepted, and is traveling from Russia on the first flight he can get. Considering him, it would most likely be some sort of new jet he'd invented.

Dress formally.

Do not worry about your safety. The anonymous aristocrat has his home well guarded, and will not allow even the police force in without invitation.

Your invitation is in the envelope with the letter. Don't lose it.

Ralone has been experimenting on DNA and supposedly he has gained information that would greatly profit my organization. He is bringing this information with him to share it with the aristocrat.

Make sure you get it before the aristocrat does.

One of my closely trusted clients will be waiting outside when you are through. Take the information to him. He will be waiting at the gate to the courtyard to give you your payment if you have the information.

I know you don't accept a cheap commission, so I am offering 25,000 for your work.

Address: 352 TripleCrown Ave.
Date of party: May 12th
Time: 10:00 A.M

Information on the Russian:

Name: Ralone Stalin Bolshakov
Height: 6' 8”
Age: 25 yrs.
Species: Feline
Breed: Russian Blue/ Korat mix (he has white markings on his muzzle and tail tip since he is not a pure bred)
Relations: Unknown
Status: Single

Warning: Very intuitive and careful. Very anti-social. Very dangerous.

The amount of money being offered was hardly what convinced her. 25,000? How pathetic is that. If they think that is a good sum of money they are definitely in a desperate situation. But the money wasn't much of an interest to her. It was the job! This was the most interesting request she'd gotten in a matter of months.

With quick fingers, Whitefire, folded the letter and put it in her pocket, looking in the envelope again to take out the invitation. It was small, and the writing was in a very small, tight cursive, but she could make out her name. She put that in her pocket as well.

She looked at the clock, suddenly remembering the date. “Oh man....it's today!” But it was only 8:15.....she still had time to get ready.

Running to her room, she quickly changed, taking her shorts and tank-top off to put on a long red, strapless dress. In front of the mirror in her room she straightened out her fur and added a bit of eyeliner to her eyes, and large, golden loop earrings. She studied herself for a moment, then nodded and went to one of her dresser drawers, pulling out Sedyukov pistol and long curved knife with a strap.

She proceeded to strapping the knife to her leg. Her dress would hide it easily. She grabbed the gun, made sure it was loaded, and hid it carefully in her bra. She looked in the mirror again to make sure it wasn't showing, then grabbed her purse and her wallet, and grabbed the invitation out of her shorts, which had been thrown onto her bed. She grabbed an extra pistol and hid it in her purse, along with her wallet and invitation.

Feeling excited, she dashed out the door, almost forgetting to lock it. When she was out of the tunnel, out of the alleyway, and onto a main road, she hailed a cab.

“352 TripleCrown Avenue please.”

“Alright missy. That's almost across town, so it'll be about a 30 minute drive.” A black wolf sat in the driver's seat, looking back at her through the mirror.

“That's fine.”

He pulled the car away from the curve and began the drive. “So,” he said, “Going on a date eh?”

She set her jaw, already annoyed. “No, I am not.” This was going to be a longer drive than necessary.

*      *      *

When the cab driver finally pulled up in front of the mansion, Whitefire almost didn't pay him. She handed him his money, but muttered, “Nosey mutt...” loud enough for him to hear as she began to walk up to the courtyard gate. She was stopped by a guard, who asked for her invitation. She quietly took it out of her purse and handed it to them.

One of the guards inspected it for a moment, making her nervous, but he handed it back to her and waved her through. “Granted clearance.”

She passed the gate and walked down the long pathway through the courtyard to the door of the mansion, which was large even by her standards. It had beautifully carved pillars on either side, and as she passed through the doors, there were carving lined along the walls of the hallway, and paintings hung high. I need to get myself a place like this....

The hallway soon opened up into a huge room with vaulted ceilings and she stopped for a second, searching among the mingling of people for a certain Russian scientist. He must have an accent...maybe I can find him more easily considering...

She slowly walked up to a pair of greyhounds talking, interrupting them politely. “Excuse me, gentlemen, but is Mr. Bolshakov here?”

One of them answered with a nod. “Yes, he came in about a minute or two ago.”

The other finished. “He is over there, the one sitting in the arm chair.” The dog pointed  across the room to a grumpy looking, silvery cat.

Whitefire thanked them and began making her way across the room to the cat. Before she was even halfway to him, though, he stood up, looking at her with piercing blue eyes. He gave a quick nod to her and met her halfway.

“Looking for me, I assume?” His voice was deep and gruff, and he rolled his 'R' a bit as he spoke. Well, it's definitely him....but how could he tell I was looking for him? He wore carefully ironed black pants, black shoes, a black tie, and a dark purple shirt, which cuffs were the same color. His hair was slicked back carefully, and he looked down at her with intelligent eyes. He's going to be a hard one to crack...

She gave a smile. “Yes, I was, Mr. Bolshakov.”

He took her hand softly and gave it a kiss. “Please, call me Ralone.” he said, a smile flashing across his face for a moment. “And may I ask who the beautiful lady is?”

She blushed slightly. I hadn't expected him to be so charming. “Whitefire Zilaco Tequilla.”

The Russian's ears pricked at the name. “Beautiful name, as well.”

“Thank you.”

“A dance while we talk?”

“Of course.”

He linked his arm to hers and quietly walked out of the main mingle to a room with polished marble floors. The lights were a bit low, and there weren’t too many people. Ralone began a slow, easy dance so they could talk without too much distraction.

Whitefire didn't speak for a moment, as she was studying him, looking for any signs of papers hidden in his shirt. Unless he memorized it all.....I wouldn't be very surprised.

The Russian's deep voice broke into her thoughts. “You wanted to speak with me?”

She opened her mouth slightly, nodding. “Yes....” I didn't really plan this through... “I've heard much about you and your success as a scientist.”

“Ah, trying to get money, then?” He growled.

She frowned, meeting his eyes sternly. “Not at all. I've got more than enough money.”

The Russian grinned a little. “I was just teasing. But, I would like to know why you're carrying one of the best Russian pistols made.”

Her eyes widened. She knew her purse was closed, so it must be..... “You are suddenly a bit too tall for my liking.”

“And you are suddenly a bit too interesting to pass up. Let's go outside for a moment.”

They stopped dancing and went out a side door to the large courtyard, walking along one of the many pathways into neatly trimmed hedges of different colored roses.

“So,” Ralone said calmly. “Would you mind answering my question about the gun?”

Whitefire growled at him slightly. “It's for protection.”

“Hmmm...” he thought for a moment. “Well, I have to say that I'm quite proud you find a Sedyukov the right kind of protection.”

“You Russian's are quite experienced in making extraordinary weaponry.”

“I'll take that as a complement.”

They became silent for a minute or two as they walked, but Whitefire was thinking. He is very blunt.....maybe I should just ask him. “I would like to know the information you've brought. It must be interesting, hm?”

The Russian stopped walking. “And how would you know about this, Ms. Tequilla?” His voice became slightly strained.

She looked up at him, smiling a bit. “You can't think I would believe you came here, all the way from Russia, just to come to this party, did you?”

“I suppose not...” he huffed slightly. “You know, I've taken a bit of a liking to you. I like an intelligent woman.”

“So, does this mean you're going to tell me the information?” She tried to hide her excitement.

“No,” he said with a smile, his blue eyes flashing mischievously. “I'm going to ask you on a date.” Whitefire groaned, making the Russian laugh. “What, you don't like that?”

Whitefire gave him an orange glare. “I'm fine with you asking, I just am disappointed that you wont tell me.”

“Why are you so eager to know?”

“It just interests me.”

“Oh really?” The Russian shook his head. “I'm not sure I believe you....” He suddenly stopped talking and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her close.

“What are y-” She was cut off as he covered her mouth with his hand.

“Shh....” he whispered, his mouth next to her ear. “There's someone watching us from the top of the courtyard wall.”

Whitefire gave a small nod, but stiffened as she felt his hand move slowly up to her chest. A growl rose from her throat.

“Calm down, I'm getting your gun.” He didn't look away from the wall behind her as one of his fingers pulled the pistol out carefully and put it in his pocket. “They've gone for the moment....but I'm sure they'll be back.” He looked down at her. “Sorry.”

She frowned. “Just don't do it again.”

Ralone suddenly grabbed her again, pulling her to him as bullets shredded the hedge where she'd been standing.

Her face twisted into a snarl. So...this whole assignment was a trap? A smile suddenly replaced the snarl. “Very well...” She shoved herself away from Ralone and snarled  up at the shooter. “Let's play.” Though, I have to say, they did a good job of creating a false commission. And the pay! That was the killer. They purposefully offer too little, to make it sound like their business was loosing money.

She snatched the gun from her purse, but hid it behind her back. “What are you waiting for?! Shoot me you blithering idiot!” The sniper had gone behind the wall again.

Ralone pulled his gun out as well. “So...you know these people?”

“In a way. I just found out they sent me a fake commission.” she growled, and started jogging toward the wall.

“A commission....for what endeavor?” The Russian frowned a little bit as he kept pace with her.

“Getting that info from you, of course.” They got to the wall and pressed themselves against it, looking up.

“Well, you certainly have your own way of getting someone to talk. I was on the verge of telling you before they started shooting.”

She looked at him with wide eyes. “Really? To me I didn't seem to be getting anywhere.”

They became silent as the shooter's head appeared over the top edge of the wall above them, and Whitefire whipped her gun out, a silencer quieting the shot of the pistol.

The gunman's machine gun fell to the ground at their feet, but the man hung limp over the wall.

“Good shot.”

“Yeah.” Whitefire put her pistol back in the purse and snatched the other out of Ralone's hand, gave him a glare, and shoved it back in her dress, making sure it wasn't visible to anyone- beside Ralone, that is. “Well, time for me to leave, I suppose.”

The Russian's ears straightened. “Is that date still in place?”

She snorted, laughing. “Yes. My home, possibly? It's quite in need of some use.”

“My pleasure.”

Her orange eyes narrowed. “Though, I'm sure, you can keep my location disclosed?”

He paused, then smiled. “Of course. When, exactly?”

She nodded briskly. “Now.”

“What?”

“My schedule's a bit tight.”

Ralone's look of surprise brightened into an amused smile. “ Very well.”

They slowly walked to the courtyard gate, where someone was trying to discreetly solicit. Sly eyes met hers and she suddenly stopped, walking toward them. “Waiting for me?”

They nodded. “Did you get the intel?”

“Nope.”

Their eyes widened as Ralone came up behind her, frowning. “So, the commission wasn't a fake?”

“How interesting....” She shrugged, grinning. “I guess not! But now I'm just wondering who the gunman was...”

The man looked wide-eyed at them for a moment, then started running down the sidewalk.

“Ahah! That's right, run, fool!” Ralone shouted, then smiled and looked down at Whitefire. “Let's take my car.”

Of course, she wasn't terribly surprised to find that his car was a sleek black GT-9R sports car.

The strange incident of the gunman wore on her nerves as Ralone drove. Who would know I was going to be there? It was a sudden decision....I hadn't planned it a week before. Something just wasn't adding up. Maybe it was a fake. But then again they wouldn't have sent someone to actually wait for her by the gate if they had expected her dead. But I can't be sure if that wasn't a trick as well... She just couldn't piece it together. Maybe if I...

   

   Ralone's deep voice interrupted her thoughts. “You might want to start giving directions to me before I get completely lost.”

   

   Her eyes widened. “Oh...uh, take a right.” She glanced at the side car mirror to make sure her eyeliner was still intact, and noticed a white Subaru behind them. She ignored it and sighed. Well, it doesn't look like I'll be making any headlines tonight. I wonder if I'll be able to fall asleep. “Take a right.” she said distractedly, but as she looked into the mirror again, her orange eyes widened. “And...oh my HELL TAKE ANOTHER RIGHT!”

   

   One of the people in the Subaru behind them was leaning out the window, a black sniper in their hands as they aimed for her side of the black sports car.

   

   Ralone hissed, but didn't listen to her instructions, and she snarled, pulling out both of her  pistols and rolling down the window as she leaned out of the car, taking careful aim. A bullet whizzed past her cheek, barely grazing it, and she gritted her teeth, pulling the triggers on both her guns. One of the bullets managed to pierce a front tire, quickly deflating it and making the driver have a bit of a difficult time, but the other missed. I need to practice doing this more often... She winced as the sniper bullet nicked her ear this time and she aimed again, a deep frown replacing her snarl as she began to get angry. She hissed and pulled the triggers again, and this time she didn't miss what she'd been aiming for. Both the driver and the gunman suddenly fell limp and the white Subaru swerved for a moment, then crashed into the glass window of a small shop. “Oops...sorry.”

   

   Whitefire whipped herself back into the car, put both her guns away and snarled. “Ralone! Stop the car. NOW.”

   

   The sports car screeched to a stop and Ralone looked over at her with a confused look. “Why are we stopping, exactly?”

   

   She opened the car door and stepped out, frowning as she heard the sirens of police cars and the wailing of an ambulance this time around. “That date you were talking about... it's canceled.” She slammed the car door as the police cars came around the corners of the street, snarled and whipped her wings out. She shot upward before any of the enforcement could even pull a gun on her, and she was soon out of sight.

   

   Ralone slowly smiled as he watched her leave. “Well...I'm surely going to be blamed for some of this...” He shrugged, suddenly laughing loudly enough for everyone to hear. “I guess I can just bribe my way through court.”

   

   *      *      *

   

   Even after she had changed into a tank-top and jean shorts and cleaned herself up she was still too frustrated to think. Slamming a fist down on the table, she snarled at herself. At her own stupidity.

   

   Someone knew too much. Everything today had felt like it'd been planned.

   

   She racked her mind for any enemies who she knew might pull off a stunt like today. A few made the list, but even so, she still couldn't put it together

   

   “This is stupid....” she hissed, and went to one of the shelves, pulling a wine bottle and a glass out of the kitchen and into the living room, setting them down on the coffee table by the couch. She was about to sit down after grabbing the TV remote when she realized she'd forgotten a bottle opener. Sighing, she sat down anyway, muttering to herself. “I probably would've just gotten drunk, anyways.”

   

   So she turned on the TV and turned it to the news, wondering what they had to say about her today. She grumbled through the weather report, which predicted cloudy skies and rain showers for the next few days. Then her ears pricked.

   

   And now breaking news:

   

   Late today, the wanted criminal, Whitefire Tequilla, was reported to have been in a car with the famous Russian scientist Ralone Bolshakov. They were being followed by two men, both greyhounds, in a high-speed chase on King Street. Whitefire and one of the greyhounds were both trying to gun each other down, Ralone says. Whitefire shot both of the men in the heads and their car swerved into the nearest shop window. The men have not been able to be identified because of the damage of the bullet wounds.

   

   Whitefire snorted as Ralone was suddenly on TV. His teeth were showing in an amused smile, and he laughed as the reporters interviewed him.

   

   Did you have any idea who she was?

   

   Ahaha... no, I did not. She had told me her name, but I have no knowledge of who is criminal and who is not in America. I don't make frequent trips here.

   

   “Liar.” Whitefire grumped.

   

   Where were you going before the chase?

   

   AHAH!! We were actually on our way to a date.

   

   While the reporter recovered from his answer, Ralone turned and looked at the camera, smiling.

   

   Hey Whitefire! Call me up sometime, will you?

   

   He gave a wink and the interview cut off, going back the news people, who began discussing the event.

   

   Her fur bristled and she hissed. “WHAT?! Is he a complete idiot?!” She stormed into the kitchen and grabbed the bottle opener out of a drawer.

   

   *      *      *

   

   “Hnnnnnngg.....” Whitefire slowly sat up on the couch as she woke, getting a headache almost immediately. Four bottles of wine were open and empty on the coffee table.

   

   She stood and walked to the kitchen and took some pain killers before going to the bathroom and brushing her teeth for about ten minutes straight. “Can't have it staining my teeth...” she muttered to herself. She walked around the house brushing her teeth as she cleaned up and put the wine bottles in the trash. She looked at the calendar and smiled. Today was circled. Meaning another trip to the bank. Meaning her monthly heist.

   

   Every month she planned a robbery at the bank, and it was always on the same date. The 13th of each month. She had done it so many times that they now knew to put extra guards out and cameras up, and any other thing they could think of on the 13th, but she had always been able to get past anything they'd set up.

   

               She brushed her teeth for a moment more, then spit in the bathroom sink, cleaning out her mouth. In her room, she grabbed an illegal laser pointer and a small wire out of a drawer, putting them both in her pocket. Then she picked up a small string backpack, stuffing a big white bed sheet and a small flashlight into it.

   

   She stood there for a moment, thinking she might need a weapon, but then shook her head. “Nahh...”

   

   Whitefire was soon out the door, down the tunnel, through the grated gutter, and down the  street. It was cold out, and dark rain clouds were moving in quickly. I hope I get into the bank before it starts raining....I wouldn't want to be wet for the job.

   

   It was the middle of the day, so a lot of people were up and about, none of them noticing Whitefire was walking among them without even a disguise. She skipped along, well, not really skipping, but she had a little hop in her gait. She smiled and said hi to people she passed and she walked by a few stores on her way, reminding her she had to go to the store soon to stock up on food again.

   

   Her orange eyes noticed a dark gray cat on the sidewalk who was leaning against the wall of a building. He wore shorts, a loose yellow t-shirt, and had on a pair of sunglasses. The glasses made her smile a bit, and since she could tell he was watching her, she gave him a smile and a thumbs up as she passed.

   

   He lifted his glasses, raising an eyebrow at her as he stood up straight and followed her, jogging to catch up with her fast paced walking.

   

   Whitefire glanced to the side as he came up next to her and she groaned inwardly. I have to get rid of him before I get to the bank... He looked a bit younger than her, maybe 17 or 18, but he obviously couldn't tell she was older. Do I really look that young? She smiled to herself.

   

   “Hey,” he said. “Girl, what's your name?”

   

   She snorted. “First off, I'm a woman, not a girl, so bug off.”

   

   His green eyes looked surprised for a moment, but he kept following her. “I'm Diamn.” He stuck out his hand, expecting her to shake his hand.

   

   She looked at his hand for a moment, then sighed and shook it. “Nice to meet you. But I'm sort of in a hurry right now.”

   

   “Where are you going?”

   

   She gave him an orange glare. “That's none of your business.”



           He raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, geez. I was just asking.”



   “Well shut it.” she snapped, walking faster.

   

   “Wow,” he said sarcastically. “I've learned so much. I don't know your name and I don't know where you're going.” He kept up pace with her. “Why can't you tell me your name, eh?”

   

   She didn't look at him. “You'd freak out and run the other way if you knew who I was. That's why.” Her orange eyes suddenly widened. Perfect. “Do you really want to know that badly?”

   

   He nodded. “Uh, yeah.”

   

   She stopped walking and turned to him. “I'm Whitefire Zilaco Tequilla, and I'm about to rob a bank.” She gave him a wink and took his sunglasses, putting them on. His mouth was wide open. “What? Nothing to say?” She let her wings appear and stretched them out, giving him a little wave as she took off. “Next time, remember not to talk to strangers.”

   

   *      *      *

   

   She landed on a roof a couple of houses away from the bank and put her wings away, as well as the sunglasses, jumping across the next couple of roof's to the last one in the row. She crouched down, looking carefully down at the bank.

   

   It was completely guarded. There were police cars and people standing at the side of the double doors with machine guns. She whistled quietly. The hardest part is gonna be to get in...

   

   From her vantage point on the roof, though, she spotted a white SUV coming down the road. She looked closer and saw the word 'Sheriff' on the side. Smiling, she noticed it was pretty high up off the ground.  I could probably make this work...

   

   The SUV began to slow for a stop sign right below her and she jumped off the building to the ground right next to it as it stopped. She did a little roll and slipped underneath it, holding herself up off the ground as it started driving again, turning into the bank parking lot and stopping right in front of the double doors.

   

   The sheriff called to the two guards and they left their posts for a moment to talk to him.

   

   She let herself drop to the ground and she pulled out her laser pointer, turning it on and pointing it at the camera, killing it for a few seconds, but enough time for her to get through the front doors. She hid in a blind spot against the wall inside the door, killing the three cameras in the main room so she could jump over the counter and into one of the back rooms down a hallway.

   

   Taking a moment to breathe, she took out the small wire from her pocket as well. Peeking down the hallway, she saw a camera, but this one she didn't kill. Instead, she hopped into the hallway, giving a lazy salute as she smirked at the camera, probably giving a heart attack to anyone watching the screens. “Come at me bro. Looks like you failed again.” Then she killed the camera with the laser pointer and ran down the hallway to a locked door, which she opened with the wire she'd brought. She went inside and locked it again, then turned around, facing a large safe. “Awe, hello old friend.” she laughed. Then she became serious again. They'll be here any moment...

   

   She knelt down beside the safe and looked at the new lock they'd put on it. It was a number lock you had to type in. Damn it... what would they use for a password... She thought for a moment, then smiled and typed something in. It rejected her try and she frowned. Racking her brain for a moment, she then typed something else in, just as she heard loud footsteps of people running down the hallway. The lock beeped for a moment, then clicked as it unlocked. Yes! Haha...1990. The date the bank was founded.

   

   She opened the safe and only took the stacks of hundred dollar bills, stuffing them into her backpack after pulling the sheet out of it. The door lock rattled as someone twisted a key into it. She reached for the sheet.

   

   The door opened and she flicked the sheet up, giving her cover for about a split second as she lifted up a small trap door on the floor, slipped inside, then shut it, just as the sheet hit the floor in the room above her.

   

   There was shouting and some stamping around, making her smile. She was in the dark, so she pulled the flashlight out of her backpack and turned it on, chuckling to herself. She was in another cement water tunnel, the only light coming from the iron grates for the water outside to drain into. While she'd been in the bank it had started raining, so the water was pouring in and the water level was a bit higher than normal. She had to climb up to a small walkway on the side of the tunnel and use that instead of the regular way, but it worked.

   

   She jogged down the tunnel for a while until she felt far enough away from the vicinity of the bank, and then pushed up an iron grate, coming out onto a sidewalk by the street and into the rain.

   

   The few people who saw her come out of the rain gutter looked at her with wide eyes and she waved, smiling as she walked down the street for a moment, then decided to fly so she could get home and out of the rain a bit faster.

   

   Flying low over the rooftops, she hummed a little tune as she carefully perched herself on the wire above her alley. She stayed there for a moment, breathing quietly. Her eyes glanced over at the roof across from her and she suddenly stood up, balancing on the wire as her fur bristled.

   

   A  red fox stood at the wire's end on the roof. He had a long black coat on, black boots, black jeans, black gloves, and a black pistol gripped in his hand. He looked at her, yellow eyes flashing, and they stared each other down for a moment.

   

   The fox nodded at her. “Do you have a weapon?”

   

   “I would have had it out already.”

   

   “Good.” He snapped the pistol up and pulled the trigger.

   

   Whitefire dodged and let herself fall to the ground, landing softly below and looking up to see the fox aiming again. Another shot rang out as she dodged again, but this time the bullet grazed her shoulder. She gritted her teeth and the fox jumped down, landing beside her as she held her shoulder.

   

   Looking up at him, she snarled. He was about four feet away, and she could see the small smile on his face as he looked at her, cocking the gun again. She took a step back and just as he raised the pistol, she kicked his hand, which sent the gun flying and she leaped up, grabbing the gun, landed, shoved the fox against the wall, pressed the gun to his head and pulled the trigger.

   

   He fell limp to the ground and she didn't even blink, kneeling down and placing the gun back in his hand, making it look like he'd shot himself.

   

   She opened his coat and looked through the pockets for any information on him. She grabbed his wallet, and a few other papers that were there and then left, leaving him lying in the pouring rain.

   

   When she finally was able to get into her house, she tossed the wallet and the papers on the coffee table and went to her room, putting the backpack of money by her desk and the wire and the laser pointer back in their drawer. She changed into her pajamas and threw her wet clothes on the floor, too tired to care.

   

   Walking into the bathroom she turned on the hot water and started a shower, standing in the warm water for about an hour and a half. When she dried herself and got her pajamas back on, she went to the kitchen, making a quick ham sandwich before going to the living-room to sit on the couch and turn on the news, which was just starting.

   

   Today, in an effort to keep Whitefire Tequilla from pulling a heist at the bank, the police  had guards and guns on every corner of the vicinity, waiting for her to show. Somehow, though, she has done it, once again stumping the police and their detectives. She left no trace of her crime besides the little footage they got of her on one of the cameras in the building.

   

   They showed the little clip of her smiling and talking to the camera before it fuzzed out from her laser pointer, and then switched to a reporter at the crime scene who was speaking with the sheriff.

   

   How was she able to get into the building?

   

   We still aren't sure. No one saw her go in or out, and no windows were broken.

   

   I heard that the bank changed the lock on the safe. Didn't it have a new electric padlock? How did she open it?

   

   Yes, it was new. Somehow she new the pass-code, because it wasn't broken, just unlocked.

   

   What do you plan to do, now that we know she still can't be stopped?

   

   That's a question we are still debating over.

   

   They cut back to the news cast who started talking about a young boy who had reported speaking with her today.

   

   A young boy also reported that he had unknowingly spoken with the outlaw earlier today while he was out walking. The boy, Diamn Ashta, sums up their conversation in these words:

   

   “The whole time we talked she acted like she wanted me dead and gone, and finally, after I'd bothered her enough, she told me her name, told me where she was going, stole my sunglasses, and flew off, telling me to not talk to strangers.”

   

   Where did she say she was headed to?

   

   To rob a bank.

   

   Whitefire sat on the couch, chuckling. “Today was fun, eh?”

   

   Now that you know she feels this comfortable among us, what are you going to do now, Diamn?

   

   Um...nothing, I suppose. I mean, what is there to do? When I spoke with her, she seemed nice enough. Maybe we're provoking her in some way.

   

   Strong words from one so young. How then, would you explain all the killing she has done, even of late?

   

   I really don't have a clue why she does what she does, but to me she seemed like any regular person. She has a bit of an attitude, she has her own plans. Maybe if we tried to speak with her instead of running her down she'd give us a good answer.

   

   The reporter turned to the camera.

   

   Now there is a boy with an opinion.

She frowned. Why does he think I'm friendly? Weird kid. If they send someone for a friendly talk I'll kill them and prove him wrong. I can't have people trying to find me.
    “Thank you.”
   
“He’ll be out in a moment after he finishes packing.”
  
 Whitefire leaned against the counter as she waited, biting her lip softly. Her ears flicked back a little as she heard someone coming down the hallway, and she stood upright as Diamn came in the main front room. “Hello Diamn.” She greeted quietly.
  
 He looked at her and suddenly tensed, so she raised her sunglasses and set them on her head. He relaxed when he saw her eyes were blue. “Sorry...” he said quietly. “I thought you were someone else.”
  
 “It’s fine.” She took a step forward and took one of his bags for him. “Come on. Lets get out to the car.”

The young boy's eyes widened as he walked out and saw the black sports car. “Woah....” He gave a surprised look to Whitefire, but helped put the suitcases and bags into the trunk.
   
Whitefire gestured for him to get in and they began to go back to her house. She was a bit nervous now. There was absolutely no way she could hide her identity from him. The dark gray cat didn't have much to say, and she was glad for it. Her thoughts were in a craze. Why did I do this? I'm the most stupid person on the planet....
  
 When she finally turned into the alleyway and parked the car a ways in, she got out, much to the boy's surprise.
  
 “Here?” he asked in surprise. He had been expecting some expensive mansion.
  
 “No. Not here.” She walked down the alley a ways more and lifted the iron grate up, jumping inside. “Get your stuff and follow me.” she called up.
   
The boy laid his ears back for a moment, unsure, then grabbed his stuff and hopped down with her.
   
She shut the grate and took some of his bags to help him, then walked down the tunnel to the door, which she unlocked, opened, and went inside. “Shut the door when you come in.” she called back quietly.
  
 The boy slowly walked in and his mouth dropped open.
   
Whitefire looked back and rolled her eyes a bit. “Shut your mouth before you flood the place.”
   
Diamn snapped his mouth shut and drug the rest of his stuff in. “Uh... where do I put my stuff?” He was still a bit awe-struck.
  
 “Down the hallway, second room to the left. My room is the first one. Please stay out.” She went to the kitchen to make some ham sandwiches, leaving Diamn to walk around and gawk at everything as he went to his room.
   
When she came out with a plate of sandwiches, Diamn was already back in the living-room, looking around. She set the plates down on the coffee table. “You hungry?”
   
Diamn turned to her and looked at her suspiciously. His green eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”
  
Whitefire returned his narrowed gaze. “I'm sure you can figure it out.” She left the room for a moment. “Eat if you like. I promise it's not poisoned or anything.” She stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom and carefully took the contacts out of her eyes, returning her eyes back to their normal color.
   
She came out again and Diamn's eyes widened as she handed his sunglasses to him. “I think these are yours.”
  
 He put down the sandwich he'd started eating and took the glasses, silent for a moment. Then he looked up at her, anger in his green eyes. “So, I’ve been illegally adopted by an outlaw?”
   
She kept her gaze calm. “Looks like it.”
  
 The dark gray cat growled. “Why?”
  
 “I felt bad.”
  
 He snarled quietly. “Why would you even care about what happened?”
  
 She stared him down for a moment before answering. “Aseo had been sent to kill me.”
   
Diamn’s eyes widened. “What?” Then he frowned. “Quit lying to me.”
  
 “I’m not. Get a clue, kid. Think about it for a second.” She plopped herself down on the couch and grabbed a sandwich.
  
 Diamn was suddenly stiff. “Wait, so… you k….killed him?”
  
 “Yes, I did. And if anyone else tries to find me I’ll get rid of them, too.”
  
 He backed off a little. “Are you going to… you know…”
  
 She chuckled. “Kill you? No. I really did adopt you for the sake of adopting you.”
  
 Diamn let out a breath he’d been holding, relieved, but started to tear up as he looked at her.
  
 “You understand my situation, don’t you?” Whitefire said briskly. “He’d been hired to kill me. I had to kill him first.”
  
 “I just…” The young cat began to cry. “I know he wasn’t my real father but…I can’t believe he’s dead.” The tears began to flow and he curled up on the couch, crying next to Aseo’s killer.
  
 Whitefire rolled her eyes a bit. She grabbed a bottle of wine off of the coffee table and gave it to him. “Here. Cry me a river.” Then she stood up and walked out of the room.

Later… much later, Whitefire was walking down the street to a store near her home, with Diamn walking sulkily behind her.

“Don’t throw a fit.” Whitefire said to him. “Im getting food. That should be reason for joy. And besides, I told you to pick out anything you like. I don’t care how much it is, just get it.” She glanced at him when he didn’t answer. “Don’t slouch. It’s not attractive.”

Diamn sighed and straightened up as they walked into the store. “Anything, you say?”

The outlaw looked up at him. “As long as it’s within reason, of course.”

“And what would be the maximum?”

She thought for a moment. “Well, not more than half the store, okay?” She smiled and hopped down one of the isles, leaving Diamn to himself.

He smiled. Anything? Alright, I can work with that…

When Whitefire met up with him to purchase everything, she narrowed her eyes. “You really took advantage of my offer…”

The gray cat smiled, his green eyes flashing. In his cart there were the newest versions of mostly every electronic device invented. “Well, I figured that if I was going to be stuck in that house of yours, I might as well have some entertainment.”

The white cat cocked her eyebrow at him. “Stuck in the house? No. You’ll be coming with me while I work.”

Diamn’s eyes widened. “But I-“

“Did you really think I was going to keep you inside all day like some weird kidnapper?”

He paused. “Uh…I don’t know.”

Whitefire snorted. “No, I’m not. So, since you are now going with me, you’re gonna have to start working out so you can keep up and keep quiet.”

“Work out?! Are you saying I’m weak?” Diamn frowned, looking very offended.

“No.” She shrugged. “I’m just saying you aren’t strong enough.”

“So I’m weak.”

“If you’d like to take it that way.” Breathes quietly, keeping patient. “I’ll show you what I mean when we get back home.”

The two of them waited in line, Diamn quite unhappy now, and Whitefire quickly bought everything. They walked out to the parking lot and Whitefire opened the trunk of her sports car, letting Diamn set everything in it, then they hopped in and she sped out of the lot, expertly weaving through the cars and out onto the main road, noticeably speeding.

Diamn made sure his seatbelt was tight, looking slightly worried as they came increasingly closer to a red stoplight. “Uhm….you might want to-“

“Shut it.” She snapped at him, cutting him off as she switched foot pedals to brake instead of gas. The sleek car stopped softly at the light and Diamn sighed, relieved.

Whitefire rolled down her window and rested her arm, waiting for the light to change. A car pulled up beside hers and she glanced to the side, immediately frowning as a black cat with yellow eyes winked at her, flashing his teeth in a smile. “Ugh……”

He revved his white sports car and gave her a grin. “Hey gorgeous. A race?”

Diamn watched the cat in disgust and flipped him the bird, growling.

Whitefire just blinked slowly at the cat, glancing at the light, which was now green, and raised her hand for the black cat to see, slowly counting down with her fingers.

3…2…1

And they were off. The black cat smiled and Whitefire kept her pokerface, weaving through the slower cars skillfully until she turned off the main and onto a back-road with less traffic.

The cat pulled his white car up to hers and she finally gave him a bit of a smirk, and he returned it, chuckling. “Have fun losing, beautiful.”

“Have fun winning, ugly.” Whitefire flashed a smile and started off slowly. “Don’t keep me waiting.” After a moment or two, the white car sped past and she stopped hers, watching him get ahead.

Diamn sat up. “Isn’t he kind of winning?”

Whitefire didn’t answer, waiting a moment more, then sped after him, quickly increasing speed. She easily caught up to him and drove beside him, tapping on his mirror. He cocked his eyebrow and she winked, a finger flipping a switch on her dash. Diamn laid his ears back as a high pitched noise emanated from the car for a moment, then stopped.

The black cat looked at her suspiciously. “What was that?”

“Jet fuel.” She pressed the gas pedal to the floor and practically flew down the road, immediately getting far ahead of him.

Laughing for a moment, he flipped a switch in his own car and raced after her, slowly gaining. When he finally pulled up next to her, she wasn’t driving anymore. Diamn was. She looked down at him from the roof of the car, giving him a winning smile.

The cat smiled slyly and pulled something out of his pocket, a small touch screen pad about an inch wide. He let go of the wheel and climbed out of his window onto the roof of his white car, steering it with his thumb on the pad.

Whitefire smiled and pulled hers out as well. “Diamn, quit driving.”

“WHAT?!”

“Just do it.”

Diamn reluctantly let go of the wheel and Whitefire took over from her position on the roof, smiling at the black cat. “I see I’m not the only one who knows her way around the black market…”

The cat chuckled, his yellow eyes flashing. “I have a feeling I should know who you are. But I can’t place it…”

Whitefire chuckled back at him. “Tequilla.”

The cat closed his eyes for a moment, smiling, then looked back up at her. “Wow. It’s nice to meet you finally.”

“And you are?”

“Zenk Grhatchn Hans.”

Whitefire’s orange eyes looked over at him. “Nice name…I like it.”

The cat snorted and looked at Diamn. “If you don’t mind my asking….what is he doing with you? He seems a bit young…”

Whitefire snorted back at him. “If you’ll believe this…I adopted him the other day.”

“You’re even more of a mystery than I originally thought.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Diamn came out of the kitchen with two glasses of water and stood in the living-room, muttering to himself as he looked at the two cats sprawled across the couch together, asleep and wasted. Empty bottles of wine were sitting on the coffee table, and Whitefire and Zenk were breathing quietly as they slept.

The gray cat sighed and walked over, standing next to them for a moment before dumping water on their faces.

Whitefire woke up, spluttering and hissing, and she stood, snarling. “What the hell did you do that for?!”

“I don’t like seeing someone drunk and sleeping with someone they hardly know.” Diamn growled back at her.

Zenk just chuckled a bit and wiped water from his face. “Brave kid.” He coughed softly and stood as well, looking at
Whitefire. “You did well adopting this one…he’s got his priorities straight.”

“Hmph.” Whitefire glared at them both and went to the kitchen to get a towel and dry off.

Zenk winked at Diamn and the young cat dumped the other glass of water on him.

The black cat blinked water from his eyes. “Hey!”

Diamn just growled and walked away, setting the empty cups down on the coffee table before going down the hallway to his room.

Whitefire came back into the living-room and tossed a towel to Zenk. “Where’s Diamn?”
“Went down the hallway.”

She left the living-room and went to Diamn’s room, knocking quietly on the door before coming in. He was laying on his back on the bed, earphones in and loudly playing music. Whitefire walked over and sat on the bed next to him, but he ignored her, scrolling through the music on his phone.

After a moment, she gave in. “Fine….I won’t….ugh.”

Diamn took his earphones out. “You won’t what, exactly?”

She growled at him. “I won’t get drunk anymore.”

He smirked. “You won’t drink anymore.”

“Uh. No. I’m not going to promise anything on that one.”

“Alright. It’s a start at least.” The young cat looked pretty happy with himself.

Whitefire rolled her eyes. “Yes, well. Let’s get rid of Zenk and then I’ll show you what I was talking about yesterday.”

“About what?”

“Working out.”

Diamn frowned. “Oh yeah.”

They went back out to the living-room, where Zenk was at the coffee table writing something down. Whitefire’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing?”

The black cat looked up, smiling. “Just writing down the kind of wine you get. I like it.”

She rolled her eyes as he put the paper in one of his pockets. “Well, it’s time for you to go.”

“Huh? Why exactly.”

“Didn’t you approve of what Diamn said earlier? No getting drunk and sleeping with people I hardly know, so get out.”

Zenk glared at Diamn, who was smirking at the black cat from behind Whitefire. “Alright, I’m leaving…” he growled and slowly walked to the door, giving them a small wave as he left.
Diamn’s legs buckled under him for the fourth time in a row and he slammed his back on the floor. Groaning, he laid there for a moment. “Uuughhhh…..ow.”

Chuckling, Whitefire helped him up. “This is why I want you to train a bit with me.”

“Stop throwing me on the floor.” The gray cat hissed.

“Don’t let me throw you. This is what I was talking about! You have to learn how to block blows and give them in such a way that the enemy doesn’t have enough time to think about their next attack.” The white cat stood silently for a moment, thinking. “You know what….I think, instead of learning how to fight, I’m going to teach you how to dance first.”

Diamn was speechless. “WHAT?!”

“Hold up!” Whitefire raised her hands to tell him to calm down. “There is a very good reason. When I fight, I find a rhythm. It has to be a fast one, otherwise the enemy can throw me off. Each footstep and hand motion makes the notes, and the result of them is the music being played.” She paused for a moment. “Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

Diamn bit his lip softly. “I think so. So you fight….by dancing?”

“Ahah, well, not how you would imagine a little ballerina, it’s more like….refined fighting moves.”

“Hm.” He didn’t look completely sure.

Whitefire shrugged. “I’ll show you tomorrow.” She looked at the clock on the wall. “It’s time for lunch, anyway.”

I never should have brought him.
  
 A gun shot rang out and a bullet hit her upper right arm. She grunted as pain exploded in her arm, quickly making it numb. “DAMN IT, DIAMN!”
  
 He was hanging from the rain gutter of a house, trying to swing himself up beside her. Ignoring the pain, she reached out, grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up. “You had better run. Get to my house, now.” The young gray cat took to the white cat’s advice quickly, but looked back to see if she was coming. Of course she wasn’t.
   
Whitefire leaped off the roof to the ground, landing in front of the two attackers. She snarled at them as they chuckled.
   
“Ahah.” One of them, a black lab, grinned slightly as he cocked his pistol. “The great outlaw has finally been hit.”
  
 The other one, a younger mutt of some sort, looked worriedly at her and spoke to the lab. “The boss said just to kill her.”
  
 “Ah, I can have my fun, can’t I?”
  
 “But he said-“
   
The black lab growled. “Shut it, Enno.” He raised his pistol to the level of her chest, his finger tight on the trigger. “So, cat, any last words?”
   
Whitefire stayed silent for a moment, giving him an unflinching orange gaze. “If I were you, I would be thinking of your last words. I don’t need to say anything to make my death a great one.”  
   
The black lab was silent for a moment, and the small mutt, Enno, nudged him with an elbow. “Just kill her, Kashemere.”
   
Whitefire snarled, making them both jump. “Ahah! Even when you think you have me in your control, you’re scared. As you should be.” She jumped up, kicking the pistol from the black lab’s hands. The gun flew into the air, and as it came down she punched the lab in the stomach with her right arm, and caught the gun in her left hand, shooting the smaller mutt in the head.  
  
 The black lab stood in shock as his comrade fell, dead, and his eyes widened as he heard her cock the gun again. “Damn everything….”
   
Whitefire grinned. “Everything? Nah. I’m pretty sure it’s only you two going to hell today.” She pulled the trigger, and the lab held his chest for a moment, gasping before he fell to the ground. The white cat tossed the gun on the two dead dogs and held her arm as she looked up at Diamn, who had stood, watching, instead of running like she’d told him to.
   
The white cat sighed. “I told you to get out of here.”
   
Diamn’s eyes flicked from the two dead men and back to her again. She was holing her arm where she’d been shot, pain etched across her face, but she was managing to look up at him with concern.
  
 “Are you alright?”
  
 He hopped off the roof and landed next to her. “Yeah….but you look hurt...” He bit his lip. “This was all my fault....I'm sorry.”
   
Whitefire shook her head. “No. It was mine. I shouldn't have brought you.” She let her wings out and flew up to the roof again, grunting as she landed and put her wings away. Blood was seeping through her fingers from the bullet wound in her arm, slowly dripping onto the roof. “Come on. I've got to get home.”
   
Diamn nodded and scrabbled onto the roof, following her home.

“Whitefire.....can you please just go to the hospital?”
   
The white cat turned on him. “No!” she snapped, making him jump. “That would be an absolute nightmare. Just be quiet and let me think.”
   
Diamn took a step back, looking slightly hurt at her harsh tone. “Then what…are you going to do?”
   
She didn’t answer his question and closed her eyes as she sat on the couch, holding a towel to her bullet wound. Who do I know that can help get this bullet out….. She had been racking her brain for the last half hour. But she could not think of a single person. “Who the hell….” she growled quietly.  
  
 Then suddenly her eyes widened and she stood up. “Ralone.” But then she sighed. “Damn it…..I don’t know how to contact him…..” She thought for a moment, then walked to her room, sitting down in front of her computer. “Diamn, help me with this, I can’t type right now.”
   
The gray cat came over. “What are you doing? This isn’t helping….”
  
 “Be quiet and listen. Search for Ralone Bolshakov.”
  
 Diamn flipped out. “Bolshakov?! The scientist? You know him?”
   
“YES JUST TYPE.”
  
 After a while of searching and hacking into things, Whitefire was finally able to get Ralone’s cell phone number. “Hurry, get my phone. I think I tossed it on my bed.”
   
Diamn grabbed the phone and typed in the number, then handed it to her.
   
She closed her eyes, swallowing slowly at the pain in her arm as she waited for Ralone to answer her call. I hope he hasn’t left for Russia already….maybe he’s already home…
   
The ringing suddenly stopped and a familiar voice answered, letting out a string of foreign words she couldn’t understand.
  
 “Ralone!”
   
There was a pause. “Whitefire? I didn’t think you would actually try and contact me again.”
   
His rough accent was music to her ears. “Listen, I need your help. I was shot earlier today and the bullet lodged in my arm.”
  
 “Have you gone to the hospital?”
   
“Ralone. I can’t.”
   
“Oh, yes, wanted criminal…so why are you calling me about it?”
  
 “I’m asking you to come help me.”
  
 “Whitefire, I’m a scientist, not a doctor.”
  
 “Close enough.”
   
There was a sigh on the other end. “I’m in the airport right now…ah…alright. Keep your phone on so I can pinpoint your location.”
  
 “Thank you, Ralone.”
  
 “Anything for the beautiful lady.”
   
She blushed slightly as she put the phone down on her desk, and Diamn grinned.
   
“Awe man…you like him, don’t you?”
   
Whitefire glared at him, but his smile just broadened.
  
 “I can’t believe you are a friend of Ralone Avgustovich Bolshakov!”
   
The white cat shook her head. “Why, exactly, are you so excited about that?” She winced as she stood up, walking out of her room and into the living-room to a closet by the front door, opening it and pulling out an umbrella.
  
 “He is only like seven years older than me and has invented the best cars and helicopters EVER and I heard he’s been working with DNA . There was a whole thing on the news about how he has been doing experiments with it and people were upset because they don’t know exactly what he’s doing and if he is making dangerous things or-“
   
“DIAMN.”
  
 The young cat stopped talking. “Yeah?”
   
She handed him the umbrella. “Stand outside and wait for him, he doesn't know where I live.”
  
 “Alright...”