Re: The $300,000 Fight-A-Thon! [Round One: Storage Park!]
08-25-2012, 11:01 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Flummox.
What was this? Was it a game? You didn’t play games with the former God of Cats. And Felus was most certainly not a kitty. Kitties were groveling, subservient things that no longer deserved the title of cat. Domesticated. He hissed and spit on one of the crates. All these years, he’d been fighting for liberation. To prevent his people from becoming playthings for humans. And now he himself was a plaything? The ultimate blow. If this was a game, then he was going to play by his own rules.
He climbed onto one of the crates and yowled mournfully, meaning something like, “I am lonely.” To start this off, he was going to need followers. Clambering higher on the stack of boxes, he searched the expanses of the warehouse for movement. Nothing. His ears swiveled, searching for a sound, a return call…
There was a faint echo of, <font color="#02FFFF">“Dammit!” A human language… Felus bared his teeth. His eyes probed the sprawling mess of crates. Of course he could pinpoint the owner of the voice through the direction of the sound. But that would be heedlessly dangerous. He had no idea what he was up against here. And he would need subjects. He yowled again, this time noticing how the sound echoed through the vast room. Nothing. No return calls. No specks leaping from crate to crate in his peripheral vision.
He yowled again and again, clambering yet higher. Each time he felt certain that he would see cats swarming to him by the dozens. Just over this crate, he said to himself. There will be someone just over this crate. Each time he proved himself wrong.
“I am lonely,” he called.
“Lonely,” the echoes called back, mocking.
There were no more crates to climb. He looked up and saw only blank white ceiling. He looked around and all he saw were endless rows of crates. In the far, far distance he imagined that he saw something hit the ceiling. A grey speck scrambled over the crates, heading in the opposite direction. There were no cats here.
He truly was lonely.
</font>
What was this? Was it a game? You didn’t play games with the former God of Cats. And Felus was most certainly not a kitty. Kitties were groveling, subservient things that no longer deserved the title of cat. Domesticated. He hissed and spit on one of the crates. All these years, he’d been fighting for liberation. To prevent his people from becoming playthings for humans. And now he himself was a plaything? The ultimate blow. If this was a game, then he was going to play by his own rules.
He climbed onto one of the crates and yowled mournfully, meaning something like, “I am lonely.” To start this off, he was going to need followers. Clambering higher on the stack of boxes, he searched the expanses of the warehouse for movement. Nothing. His ears swiveled, searching for a sound, a return call…
There was a faint echo of, <font color="#02FFFF">“Dammit!” A human language… Felus bared his teeth. His eyes probed the sprawling mess of crates. Of course he could pinpoint the owner of the voice through the direction of the sound. But that would be heedlessly dangerous. He had no idea what he was up against here. And he would need subjects. He yowled again, this time noticing how the sound echoed through the vast room. Nothing. No return calls. No specks leaping from crate to crate in his peripheral vision.
He yowled again and again, clambering yet higher. Each time he felt certain that he would see cats swarming to him by the dozens. Just over this crate, he said to himself. There will be someone just over this crate. Each time he proved himself wrong.
“I am lonely,” he called.
“Lonely,” the echoes called back, mocking.
There were no more crates to climb. He looked up and saw only blank white ceiling. He looked around and all he saw were endless rows of crates. In the far, far distance he imagined that he saw something hit the ceiling. A grey speck scrambled over the crates, heading in the opposite direction. There were no cats here.
He truly was lonely.
</font>