Stray Cat Strut Chapter Thirty - Is It Really Possible for an Emo Girl and a

Chapter Thirty - Is It Really Possible for an Emo Girl and a Country Boy to Build a Doomsday Weapon?

"It's funny how, with the internet changing so much, and the introduction of the sh, old forums sohow... still putter along. They're like micro-niche communities now. Sotis with only a few dozen mbers, sotis with barely a couple of thousand, but they continue to exist because... well, in a way, they're soone's ho."

--Comnt on the KnowYoursh site page for Ancient s, 2056

***

"It's kind of normal-looking," I said.

"What do you an?" Shy asked as she followed out of the Bastion. I'd found a rather large part of the topmost parking garage cleared out. There were cones moved aside, and when I ca in to land, a small gaggle of wheeled bots with little traffic-cone tops rolled out and directed over to the spot.

There were a few gawkers, but they were keeping to themselves for the mont, which was nice. The place stank of hydrocarbons, like every good parking garage did. It didn't feel like the kind of place I'd want to use for a et-and-greet.

"I an, it's just a normal-ass building. I know that my place has a giant cat on the top, and that's a little... extre, but like, I dunno, Emoscythe is all about image. I expected her to live in like, a gothic mansion out in the country. And if she lives in a skyscraper, I'd expect it to be all... thin and sexy and black."

"Like a monolith?" Shy asked.

"Exactly," I said. I was still only getting one-sentence responses out of Shy, but it was better than mumbled nothings. We were getting sowhere. I was hoping that Shy was maybe not so Shy around so people. Introverts were like that, right? They beca a little more extroverted around people they were attached to.

Wait... did Shy opening up ant she was getting attached to ? I glanced back, squinting at her until I caught her eye and she stared back for an awkwardly long ti.

Eh. Whatever. "Let's go," I said.

She nodded, and followed as I took the lead. I wasn't in full exosuit and all, but I did have that pink scarf around my neck and that long bounty-hunter style trenchcoat on. I kinda liked how I could get away with wearing jeans and comfortable boots and still look decently dangerous with it on. Well, that and the number of guns strapped to myself.

I heard a faint hum from behind and half-turned to glance at Shy. There was a fuzziness around her for a mont, but when I blinked it was gone.

"Sorry," she said.

"No... problem? Did you do sothing?"

Shy nodded slightly. "I don't like people taking pictures of . I have... sothing to help. It's usually passive, and I can whitelist, so you should be okay most of the ti."

"Uh-huh," I said. That sounded like a lot. Shy subvocalized sothing. I could see her neck move a bit, then I received a small packet from her via text. I glanced it over and it looked like the details of so sort of anti-spyware system?

Before you ask. It's a bit of cyberware designed to interfere with the light captured by cara systems and less-efficient organic eyes.

I nodded. "Simple enough," I said.

No, Catherine. It's very much not simple. It's so complicated that you'd need six doctorates in different subjects to understand more than the surface level. But yes, the effect of it is relatively easy to understand. It makes Vanguard Shy difficult to impossible to capture on anything short of film.

It didn't work on old-school film? Like, that brown stuff that they used to have in those caras with a crank on them? Wild.

Shy and I slipped into the building proper at the end of the parking garage, and I was very... wheld. It looked like every other lobby ever. Maybe a little cleaner? It sure didn't stand out much. "Now where do we go?" I muttered.

Shy answered by pointing to a wall.

There was one of those floating plexiglass sign boards hanging just off the wall, with labels and arrows pointing the way. Elevators to our left, ergency exit ahead, House of Emoscythe Mordeath Noir to the right. Her na was so large that I suspected the person who made the sign had to work around it.

"Okay, I guess we go that way," I said.

'That way' turned out to be around a small corner and down a long corridor. At the end was an all-black door, set into pristine white walls. Two busts stood on either side of the doorway, each one atop a white marble-looking plinth. They were of won in flowy dresses, and looked like they were carved out of marble or sothing too. Only their faces were extrely gaunt, and I could see the bones beneath their skin.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

The eyes in the statues tracked as I approached, and I was pretty sure there was so automated defence shit hidden sowhere in the corridor too.

There was a welco mat sitting at the front of the door. It didn't fit at all. In fact, it clashed so hard I stopped before stepping on it and pushed the edge up with the toe of my boot. I kind of expected to find a trapdoor or like, a landmine underneath, but there was nothing.

The welco mat said "Howdy!" in a large country font, with a little cowboy hat hanging off the Y.

"That looks like sothing Crackshot would have," I muttered. "Are they this deep into their relationship?"

Leaving so clothes over or sothing was one thing, but picking out furniture? Even if it was just this cheesy welco mat? That was a whole other thing.

I reached over and knocked twice.

It only took a minute before the door swung open, revealing a smiling Crackshot Cowboy. "Heya!" he said before stepping back. "C'mon in! Can't leave ya out in the cold. How was the drive over?"

"Not bad," I said as I stepped in with Shy. "Do you know Shy? She was helping during the whole Big Gun incident thing. She's a local too."

Shy looked up and blinked, she was in the process of removing her shoes by the entrance for whatever reason.

Crackshot grinned, and reached out to shake Shy's hand, which she accepted with so hesitation. While he did that, I took a mont to spy on their place, and look Crackshot up and down.

He was in jeans, but no boots, just big comfy looking socks. He was wearing a slightly oversized knit sweater and his old cowboy hat. He looked comfortable, but almost entirely out of place.

Emoscythe's house, at least the entrance lobby, was huge. Tall ceilings, held up by frequent pillars, lots of glossy stone flooring and walls, and several modern-styled chandeliers that hung from the arched ceiling.

There was a clear mix between old gothic style stuff around, and then more modern, abstract art.

"Is Emoscythe here?" I asked. There were no signs of her. Well, except for the tastefully designed room inside the obviously huge ho that had to go for a million credits a month or so.

"You missed her, actually," Crackshot said. "She left about three hours ago."

"And yet you're still at her place?" I asked. "Even though she's not here?"

Crackshot grinned at , but that did nothing to hide the little blush that crawled across his nose and onto his cheeks.

"Oh-hoh," I said. "You've been a busy guy, huh?"

"A little," he said. "She, ah, took under her wing, if you know what I an."

Dosticated him, more like. But he seed happy, so whatever. "Good for you," I said.

"Do you two want sothing to drink? There's alcohol here, or just whatever if you're not into that," Crackshot said. He started to lead us through the house, which took a long ti because the entrance hall was larger than so warehouses. Eventually we made it to a space with a kitchen, a living room, and a view.

A huge bay window opened up the room and gave an open view out of the side of the building. I could see half of New Montreal spread out before . "Damn," I said. The city looked good from this angle, behind a foot-thick wall of what was probably glass able to resist an orbital strike. The angle was damned near perfect, with the traffic stretching out in parallel lines away from the building and creating a floating grid over the rows of skyscrapers and ga buildings.

"Yeah. she bought this place specifically for the view," Crackshot said. "Well, that and it's close to where she works and the centre of the city. Beer? Whiskey? Uh, there's wine, but I don't know enough about it to guess at what's good."

"Just soda," I said.

"Uh, sa," Shy said.

"Sure thing," Crackshot said. He wandered off to the kitchen, which was next to the living room but still a good dozen tres away and behind a kitchen island with more square footage than most apartnts.

"This place is... nice," Shy said.

"Yeah. You've t Emoscythe before, right?"

She nodded. "Yes. She's very... yes."

"Yup," I agreed. "I guess she likes her luxuries."

"And her and Mister Crackshot... are... ah, dating?"

"Like I said, she likes her luxuries."

***