Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"WEELLLLL HELLO THEEEERE!"

The cat, dressed from head to toe in a prim and proper suit, flinches. His ears pin back from the sheer volume of the larger-than-life, boisterous voice. A clawed black finger tugs at his collar, before it folds with the digits of his other paw on the table before him. Well- if it could be called a table. In reality it was the base of a tree trunk with the remaining ninety percent of the tree lopped off and unaccounted for. If it weren't for the unmistakable, glittery charring left behind by magical fire, the cat would have suspected the world's smoothest chainsaw responsible for the death of this- two hundred year tree? He'd had time to count nearly all the rings, with how long his quarry had made him wait.

"You're late."

The looming shadow above him laughs. The motion causes a golden glow to emit from somewhere near the top, in the shape of a notched crescent. Two elliptical eyes turn to gaze at him, the golden glow matched in them before one of them shuts in a quick wink. The golden crescent mouth curls into an even more twisted grin.

"Awwww, not happy I made you wait? TOOOOO BAD! This is MY forest, you play by MY rules, kitty cat. Consider yourself quite lucky for getting this far with your soul intact. You'd do well not to SASS me when asking for MY favor."

The umbral specter makes a show of folding his massive, pillar-like body, so that his head(?), shoulders and rail- thin arms can rest across the charred stump tabletop. Only now did the cat truly understand the need for such a gargantuan tree stump. A table large enough to accommodate this creature would fit in no domicile created by man. Even now the 'table' was childishly small in comparison to the massive spirit.

The shadow folds his own hands- puffy and mittenlike, with sharp talons on each pair of three fingers- and tilts his head childishly to regard the cat in clothing. The gesture drips with faux innocence, which only serves to intimidate.

"Well! I'm here now! Get to business, puffball."

The specter's jovial tone vanishes entirely by the end of the sentence.

The cat narrows his eyes, doing his best to flatten the fur on his neck.

"You received my employer's letter, then?"

The spirit smirks with malevolence in his honey-gold eyes. The expression is quite cartoonish, set in the simplistic features and fluffy mane of shadowy furlike fluff at the base of the ghost's neck(?), but the cat is wise enough to not say that aloud.

"It's the only reason I'm sitting here, having a nice chat with you. My time is precious, fuzzy. I have FAR better things to be doing than bargaining with Garfield's inbred cousin. Just how many lady cats even exist in that heinous metro district, besides this client?"

The cat bristled, clenching his paws on the charcoal-textured stump top.

"My name is Leonard. And my employer is one of the most feared beings in ALL of the district."

The momentary bravado crumbles in Leonard's chest as the smile only grows.

The infamous Soul Snatcher leans in uncomfortably close. Leonard can almost feel a chilly breath brush his whiskers.

"Then perhaps it'll drive the point home, and REALLY help you understand your current situation, when I say that there's not a damn thing your employer, or anyone else, can do to stop me from eating your precious life like fresh, bloody meat."

Leonard gulps. Could the Soul Snatcher even consume meat? He was a ghost for god's sake! There was no way in hell he was going to ask the spirit himself.

The Snatcher cackles, pulling back to the former position across the bargaining table.

"Despite how irritating your employer's request and YOUR behavior have been, I must admit- you're kind of hilarious to me. You're bolder than the other cats I've met before. It's funny enough that I'll let things slide for now. Now get on with it, and tell me what your employer wants. I HATE vague letters in the mail, and I'm not. Going to ask. Again."

The cat lets out a quick exhale of relief, one hand clutching at the edge of his coat. Finally, they could get to business - surprisingly, on better terms than he suspected. Most cats in the Metro had marked him a dead man, when the top cat of the back alley had given him the job. The fact that her letter had gotten him this far was a miracle in itself, and he wasn't about to waste it. He had to grab hold of this opportunity before he could overthink it, make a mistake and kiss his afterlife goodbye, or go home emptyhanded and get perhaps a worse fate from his boss. Reaching one paw into his coat, the tomcat removed a large, rolled-up sheet of paper.

The Snatcher's eyes lit up, his smile curling wider at the edges.

Oh, he knew that paper very well. A contract. His favorite form of documentation.

"The Empress wishes to make a contract with you," Leonard states, forcing himself to make eye contact with the massive, devious specter, and for his voice to remain steady and businesslike. "She has a target she wants you to hunt down. From what I hear, you're the best in the business."

A massive shadow mitt waves in the air, dismissive.

"Flattery won't get you any points with me, furball. But your Empress has very large ears, to hear about my doings."

"She has eyes and ears all over the world," Leonard posits. He didn't like the searching glare that earned him. "That, and the reputation you've built for yourself is quite impeccable."

"Tsk tsk tsk, what did I just say about flattery? You're right, though. I pride myself in being the most precise employer! It's just that what she's asking in particular is not common knowledge."

The underlying tone of threat returns.

Leonard does his best to keep his poker face on.

"You may live here, but you have left the forest from time to time. Not exactly hard to spot, if I may say. You're a towering purple ghost the size and width of a small tree."

For the first time since the spirit arrived, the smirk vanishes. In its place is a pouty, indignant glare.

A flash of smoke fills the air, causing the cat to cough through the mask over his muzzle. Blinking to remove the particles of- dust? ash? he wasn't sure- from his eyes, the black tomcat looks up. The air is absent of a massive purple-black ghost, and sitting across the table from him is another cat. Or, perhaps a mirror?

No- wait.

Peck.

That was Leonard's face in that mirror. And that wasn't a mirror. It was a perfect mimicry of Leonard himself, formed from dark shadows and wearing a structurally similar outfit. Even the facemask had been formed from impressions in the smoky body, right underneath the glowing beacon-like eyes.

"You're starting to annoy me again, Lenny. People who doubt my capabilities are very. Irritating. You're starting to lose your 'hilarious' status with me, and your soul is starting on the path towards 'delicious'."

Taking this as the very obvious sign he should get a move on, Leonard jumps and unrolls the contract paper on the stump. He was doing his best to shove down his horror at hearing a twisted version of his own voice. A fanged mouth had split open on the facsimile's mask while it spoke, a part of the spirit's ebony skin.

"A-As I was saying," Leonard takes a brief moment to gather himself, "the Empress has requested a contract with you. Specifically, to hunt down something very particular."

Another poof of smoke, Leonard is temporarily blinded once again, and the spooky noodle form of the ghost returns - but half the size. The clawed mitten hands are now perfectly sized to snatch up the contract from the stump table and- wait, did that mean he had been consciously making himself larger this whole time? Leonard feels like a fool, for getting played.

The Snatcher hums gleefully as his golden eyes skim the paper.

"HAHAHAHAHAAAAA! Nope."

Without much ceremony, the spirit manifests a massive fountain pen, and proceeds to slash it across the paper.

"Wh-!"

Leonard's protests are unheeded, and the pen swishes across the text a second time as the Snatcher crosses out another line.

"NAH. Nope. Garbage. No way. HAH."

Every word is punctuated by the pen splattering ink in thick lines through the terms and conditions.

Leonard's ears fall in dismay at seeing this display of disregard. Peck. Pecking dammit. The Snatcher was going to reject the offer?

The umbral hand clutching the paper opens up so the contract is floating above the shadow palm, and purplish flames erupt across it. They lick and eat away at the contract, before consuming it, leaving behind a little pile of ash that the Snatcher shakes off.

"That contract was COMPLETE and UTTER trash. There wasn't even a forum selection! No, we'll be using my contracts for an exchange."

The Snatcher opens his other palm, and a similar stack of paper appeared. The pages shed an eerie, lavender glow, and the quill above them is definitely made from shadow as well.

"Here's how this is going to go down, fuzzball, if you EVER expect me to leave my woods for a job rather than pleasure. This client of yours will be accepting MY terms, as listed here, or none at all. Don't fret your tiny little heart out, I kept the important stuff from the original contract in this one."

With hesitant hands, the cat takes hold of the floating paper, and begins to read.

What follows is perhaps the neatest, tidiest, and shortest contract he'd ever read in his eight preceding lives.

'Contractual Obligations

The following document hereby states that the parties Empress and The Snatcher be contractually bound to the obligations and requests listed via arbitration agreement in the offer below:

Snatcher shall acquire and deliver a single hunted party or material object requested by Empress, and deliver the specimen to Le Félin jewelry store of Metro district.

In return, Empress is bound by contract to deliver their exchange of consideration in the form of 10 souls, to be paid upon successful delivery of the cargo. Snatcher is obligated to a request of collateral, in the form of 1 soul, handed over up front in order to ensure continued cooperation. The collateral will be returned upon successful delivery of the cargo.

Should Empress break or fail to meet the aforementioned terms, Snatcher is entitled to liquidated damages compensation in the form of 20 souls, and is under no obligation to return the collateral. Should Snatcher break or fail to meet the aforementioned terms, Empress is entitled to liquidated damages compensation in the form of Nothing! My forest my rules, sucker!. In the case of either of these events, the offer and acceptance terms of the contract are terminated.

The following exchanges are to take place in the selected forum: Le Félin jewelry store of Metro district.

By signing this document, you consign to the aforementioned agreements of arbitration, confidentiality, collateral cost, forum selection, and liquidated damages as put forth in the terms and conditions.'

At the very bottom of the paper, there's a large empty line of ink marked by an X. The space designated for a signature.

Leonard feels his heart in his throat as his fur stands on end. His reflective yellow eyes skim the purple paper, trying to avoid the glowing and similar golden gaze of the Snatcher. It felt like no matter how hard he tried not to look, the Snatcher remained just at the edge of his vision.

This- he couldn't be serious. The terms of this contract were horribly skewed! They so obviously favored Snatcher. Yet Leonard knew in his little kitty heart that was exactly what the Snatcher wanted - a contract built on his terms, on his paper, on his land. Unfair, binding deals. Deals with a shadowy devil.

Yet Empress had seen fit to seek out this... purple spaghetti creature with a taste for souls and theatrical voices.

"You actually read the terms and conditions! Most people just surf those to get to the signing. Not that I complain about appreciating my handiwork!"

Snatcher's voice cuts into Leonard's fretting, the grinning ghost leaning obnoxiously close again. His mitt hands are tucked under the puffy mane of shadowy fluff, like a chin, posture reminiscent of a schoolgirl discussing crushes. A long purple tail sways back and forth behind the specter like the arm of a metronome.

"I- I don't know what Empress will think of this," Leonard says, frowning. "This is nothing like her previous terms-"

"I don't deal in gold coins, gemstones, and pons, dogbait. Those are worthless to me! No, I deal in deeds and souls. Service for service, lives for lives. But you knew that walking into this, didn't you? HAHAHAHAAAAA!"

Leonard flinches as the theatrical, yet chilling, laugh causes the blood to pound in his flicking ears.

Purple claws snatch the paper away again. In a poof of smoke, the contract vanishes from the hand.

"There. I sent the contract back to your boss. That little letter she sent me had just enough residue from a soul signature that I could teleport something as small as- say- some documents to her. Shouldn't be long, now, to hear her answer!"

Leonard puts his paws over his ears, staring down at the table in quiet stress. Damn, peck! Empress was not going to be happy about this! Leonard had failed to convince the Soul Snatcher to agree to her contract, and to make matters worse, the Snatcher sent her his OWN contract! It was no less than a slap in the face for Empress, whose pride was one of her strongest attributes. There would be hell to pay for this. And how did the Snatcher expect to be compensated in souls? Leonard had a grisly notion. Snatcher had said the price would be very steep to get him to leave his beloved forest territory. Leonard had already felt unsafe before the paper was even drawn up. Now...

Snatcher doesn't say a word. Relishing the Metro cat's pain and fear in the total silence. Swaying his tail back and forth- in all irony- like a cat waiting to pounce on juicy prey.

Leonard gets his reprieve from the maddening, tense atmosphere in the abrupt sound of a POOF.

The paper manifests before the Snatcher, who looks it over with glee.

"WELL, WELL, WELLLLL! What have we here? Sandy Claws gave me her signature! I guess that means we have a deal after all!"

A hand twirls in the air, manifesting a burgundy wooden stamp dripping with purple wax. It impacts on the paper, marking it with the seal of approval. With a snap of purple-black digits, the contract paper is rolled up and closed in one swift movement of the giant mitts. Snatcher's face is alight with a triumphant, eerie grin.

Leonard is left stunned, staring at both Snatcher and the paper in incredulous bewilderment.

But- the Empress accepted? She agreed to the new terms? But- it was just a single manhunt- surely the cats could take on such a task on their own without this-!

"We've had a fun chitchat, Lenny, but if I'm going to get to work, I really should start fulfilling parts of the contract! Just hold still for a moment while I grab a little something from you..."

Leonard yelps, jumping to his feet and preparing to run.

Blackberry-colored vines spring up from the ground in a thorny fairy ring around both Leonard and the Snatcher. The thick tendrils twine together as the world grows dark and... melts around them. All that's left are springing purple flames, vines, and darkness.

"AHAHAHAHAAA! FOOOOOOOOOOL! You think you can run from me? TOOOOOOOO LATE for that! How adorable- and FOOLish! Hold still, and I'll take my collateral so you can go running back to your precious boss."

Snatcher's talons are backlit by amber colored, luminous eyes. Palm extended, the ghost waves a single mitten hand over the trapped Leonard. The street cat can do nothing to prevent the glowing blue shadow of himself from being removed, drifting up into the air and vanishing into Snatcher's palm.

Leonard's legs quake with sudden weakness, knees shaking as the life is sucked out of him. His center feels like a cavity, cold and empty. Eyes wide, he pats at his chest. What- what just happened?

"That's enough fun for today! Now get out of my forest. I better not see you back here, Lenny, or I'll just kill you for being stupid enough to trespass AGAIN, and that's just a damper on my mood."

As though the world itself swallowed up the foreboding evil of the woods, the Snatcher recedes at rapid pace into the ground, where his shadow pools and fades. The vines follow suit, retracting into the ground as the surroundings reform from the melting, blazing scenery.

Shivering, cold and cowed, the street cat pulls his old cap down on top of his head....peck. Leonard stuffs his paws into the armpits of his coat, puffed up tail tucking around himself. It wasn't raining. It never rained in Subcon Forest. But he could still feel the cold chill like acid dripping down his spine.

All that greets him is a rustle of leaves as he turns, and races back toward where his taxi had parked at the forest edge.

Chapter Text

Empress drummed her claws on the arm of her seat. The other hand was kneading the space between her eyebrows, eyes closed as she made a faint rumbling sound in her chest. Despite being so low, it was the only noise in the room, and all cats at attention felt cold sweat on the backs of their necks.

One cat tried to muffle an awkward cough.

As if on cue, the limber cat in a body-length coat and fine dress stood from her chair, eyes opening and piercing into the one before her. One iris was gold, the other scarred ice-blue from damage acquired years in the past. Intimidating- some cats would even say beautiful- but always cold. The thin paw on the chair arm lifts to sweep back her streak of dyed-white fur, smoothing it into place, before it crosses with the other arm. Her gaze is fixed on the black cat in a coat and tattered hat, avoiding eye contact as he inspects the way his feet rest on the floor tile. Her voice is smooth and silky, like a polished dagger.

"...so. Let's address the elephant seal in the room. You failed, Leonard."

Every cat in the room holds their breath.

"...but not as atrociously as I perhaps expected."

A collective exhale, before all the Nyakuza members straighten and try not to look relieved.

Slow steps approach Leonard, as Empress gets far up into his personal bubble, standing mere inches from him with a posture tall and regal. Leonard doesn't dare look up, aware that to do so would be an act of challenge. Pleased by his acquiescence, Empress doesn't strike him. Yet.

"You failed in your task to convince the Snatcher to accept my terms." Empress flicks an ear, displeased. "However, you returned with a signed contract that will get me what I want anyway, so I'm not going to mark down this mission as a complete loss."

"But- ma'am," Leonard dares to speak up, his voice quiet and gruff, "the new terms were an exchange for souls. For lives! How can you agree to such a toll?"

Several cats in attendance inhale sharply and exchange glances.

Empress laughs. Leonard was beginning to wish he hadn't said anything.

"You think I give a rat's derriere what the price is? I can afford anything I desire, and will acquire whatever I can't, no matter the means. You're ALL disposable-" she lifts her chin to meet eyes with every stock-still cat in the room "-and you're worth less than a single necklace in my store. But I need paws to operate my city, so you don't have to worry your hides for now. The contract stated only that I hand over souls- it never stated which ones. And I thought you were quite knowledgeable in the law with your experience, hmm Leonard? The tenets are quite simple, here in Metro district. I make them. Not your precious police force, not you, and certainly not the Snatcher. Remember your place, Leonard."

Leonard grinds his fangs in silence. He wasn't dumb enough to contest the Empress to her face a second time.

"...good. Fall back in line. We have to begin preparations clearing out the-"

Before Empress can finish, the light in the ceiling flashes brightly, and pops in a blinding explosion of shattered glass. Cats yowl and cover their heads, arms flying up to protect their eyes from the shower of fragments. The room is thrown into complete shadow, and Empress makes a quiet hiss of surprise, her jackal-like ears pinning back to her skull. Whiskers twitching, her vision adjusts slowly to the darkness, and she glances up to the light. The bulb had shattered in the socket. A power surge, a bad bulb? It would be difficult to diagnose with the cat gang meowling like lost kittens and frantically checking for glass in their eyes.

"Oh, calm yourselves! You're all a bunch of rain-soaked alleycats, you can handle a bit of broken glass."

"OHHH, but are you SURE they can handle ME?"

The new voice causes Empress to stiffen, her legs shifting into a braced position. A newcomer? Someone she couldn't make out, even with her powerful night vision?

Her answer comes in the form of a swirling bloom of shadow. It seeps under the crack in the door, flowing like a river of ferrous fluid until it grows to a pool in the center of the room. Empress is forced to step back as the pool grows, chilling her toes with a sensation like cool mist. Before it can engulf her ankles, a mound grows from the very center, pulling the shadowy mass up into a figure. The physique reminiscent of a pool noodle nevertheless causes a sense of caution to rise in Empress's chest. Whatever it was, the creature was immaterial and had no qualms waltzing straight into the private room of her jewelry store. Either a powerful foe was in her midst, or a foolhardy idiot. She wasn't eager to test out the options in the presence of her precious treasures and the most esteemed of her lackeys... which was quite the oxymoron, now that she thought about it. She needed more information, though she suspected the identity of the stranger already.

The shadow pillar reared up, manifesting a pair of arms and a neck ruff of material resembling fur. Two eyes and a mouth popped into being on the top of the creature, throwing a sudden golden cast spotlight on Empress. The mouth is turned down in displeasure.

"And what guest do I owe the pleasure in my store?" Empress begins.

"Ohoho, don't play dumb with ME kitty cat. You know EXACTLY who I am, and you know EXACTLY why I'm here!"

Ah. Suspicions confirmed, then. The nerves begin to fade from Empress's mind, now that she knows who she's dealing with. She can work with this.

"For one of those things, I'm afraid I don't, Soul Snatcher. You'll need to be more clear on the reason for your surprise visit. And with no bounty in hand, I see."

The glare becomes a snarl of rage, the shadow fluff bristling on Snatcher's body. He lifts a hand, and throws down a piece of paper at Empress's feet. It bounces open, and she recognizes the script. It was the followup she'd sent to further define the terms of their agreement.

Leonard squints nearby, barely managing to make out half the words in the darkness.

'Now that the contract has been sealed, I will send you these details of the quarry I seek. You must bring to me the greatest treasure of whatever you can find at the site of the starfall-'

He can't make out more than that, but it doesn't matter, as Snatcher jams a furious claw into the paper from above. The digit spears the page and pins it to the jewelry store linoleum.

"You think I can work with this little information? I don't make contracts in riddles, Princess."

Except that one time. What a fun experiment!

"Empress," the sleek feline hisses, unafraid to bare fangs at the Snatcher in return. She smooths the expression back into the cold neutrality it had been before, ears sticking up in interest as an amused smirk tugs at her mouth. "So, you're upset my desires are lacking in detail? I can go on. Riches beyond even my most vibrant dreams, a life of luxury in the bay-"

"I don't give a peck about that! What I DO care about is you WASTING MY TIME! You want something you can't define from a starfall? You want me to go on a wild goose chase through the site of every meteor shower in the past five hundred years? I'm not one of your street cats you can order to sort rice grain by grain. I have your soul on PAPER, and I will fleece you for every soul in your employ along with you if you think tugging my tail is such a riot."

Despite the stream of venom pouring from Snatcher's mouth as he growled, a mere foot away from Empress's muzzle in an impressive intimidation display, Empress remains calm and stoic. She doesn't speak up and interrupt the Snatcher's tirade, nor does she rile at his jabs. The Soul Snatcher was quite a fiend on paper- but his temper was far from professional. The purple beast of the woods was already bound by contract, and unless he wanted to bid a delicious dozen of souls goodbye, he wouldn't break their terms here and now. The upper hand was hers, and she knew it.

"Oh? But I thought you had extensive resources from which you can pull? But it can't be that the information I was given on how reliable and resourceful you are was... a bit overexaggerated."

Empress's words earn a smile on Snatcher's face, digging into his shadowy cheeks like a jack-o-lantern.

"You and your minions have a real problem with flattery."

Namely, that she knew exactly when to use it. Annoying.

"I already told your little messenger boy, you should really get that looked at. It might take your head someday."

At this point, his flared temper sought excuses to just end this contract preemptively, and claim the one soul he got as collateral. But while walking away with even one soul was still turning a profit in the end, he wanted more. He had a potential ten or more souls waiting for him, if he paid up or tricked the Empress into breaking off the contract herself. Snatcher wasn't so hasty as to just kill his opponent in the battle of wits - no, one had to play the game of chess to truly win. He intended to claim the entire pot.

"At any rate, your intel- while mostly correct- is flawed. I have an extensive information network throughout my entire forest. Just not beyond the woods themselves. Your terms in the first variation of our contract entailed that I would have to leave my woods to find this 'site' with whatever the peck you're looking for. I would greatly appreciate you telling me WHERE IT IS, and putting a name to this thing you want, so I can actually FIND IT."

Snatcher's jovial words became brief and snappy towards the end of his response, pointed fangs clacking together on the final T. The singsong tone of his voice far less playful and far more threatening.

"My apologies for the inconvenience, Soul Snatcher-"

"Just Snatcher, Soul was my father."

"-my apologies," Empress trails in annoyance. How dare he interrupt her insincere apology? "But I'm afraid I can't tell you that, because I don't know myself."

Snatcher's form ripples with a wave of energy, as his shadowy fur stands on end. The forced smile on his face barely masks a building rage.

Before he can deliver judgment, however, Empress holds up a paw.

"There is a reason for this. This starfall site is fresh, and unexplored. All we know is that it's gargantuan in size, and might be comprised of metal. The object fell from space just three days prior to my letter, and no one has excavated the site just yet."

"Oh REALLY? You sure you didn't miss out, pussycat? Three days is a long time for a meteorite to go unclaimed. What makes you think whatever's in that rock isn't already plundered?"

"Because I can tell you where to begin your search, since you're unable to find that information for yourself. It's in the middle of the ocean, just off the coast of Mafia Town."

Snatcher's entire demeanor shifts at hearing those words. Rather than tense and angry at the dig on his capabilities, his eyes widen, casting a wider beam of golden light over Empress. The menacing smile vanishes as his mouth closes into a pursed dot, mulling over her words with a hint of surprise. Then a grousing, petulant groan emits from the shadow's chest.

"Oh god- no not that stupid island- it's filled with IDIOTS."

"Exactly." Empress grins, a sliver of her teeth glinting in the light. "Just a few hundred yards from Mafia Town is potentially the singlemost profitable business endeavor I've ever seen. And in return for delivering whatever's MOST valuable from that rock, I'll give you the ten souls you want. I believe such an exchange is more than fair."

Snatcher eyes Empress, his gaze narrowed to slits for a moment as he searched her cool attitude for weaknesses.

"Why don't you just send some of your kittens to do it for you?"

"The Cooking Mafia don't take kindly to my presence, or my workers. I can't waltz into Mafia Town without a seeming territorial incursion. I would prefer not to get my paws dirty with a gang war."

Snatcher huffs, backing up and folding his arms. "So you don't know what you're looking for, and you can't get it yourself. So I'm just your hired courier, is that it?"

"Oh, no, you think I would hire someone of your caliber for this without good reason? Materials from space are rare beyond measure, a resource we can't control or acquire reliably. A massive deposit of beautiful precious metals- or even fanciful mineral deposits- would make me the world's only proprietor of jewelry from outer space. I wouldn't trust the future of my business to a common alley cat."

Several cats in the room shrink back, trying to make themselves smaller and unseen.

"No, I need insurance," Empress clenches one paw in front of her, a gesture of determination. "And you've got the most spotless acquisitions reputation on the entire planet. You're the most capable candidate for this job."

Okay, now she was really embellishing. As much as the flattery made Snatcher want to preen, he wasn't going to give in. The job was still to travel to Mafia Town, a stinking, seagull-splattered island with a meat obsession and no regard for bomb safety. Hapless morons were not fun victims to play with - they were too stupid to know they were being tricked. On top of that, he had to go diving for wherever this rock had landed. Not thrilled in the slightest.

As if she could read Snatcher's mind, Empress spoke up.

"The goons in pajamas have begun building a bridge in order to reach the site of the crash from the island. It's constructed about as well as you expect. But that shouldn't be a danger to someone like you, hm? I'm actually rather surprised you haven't gone to the island already - I was made aware that you have the ability to teleport instantly from place to place. Seems like a good way to save your time, to me."

"I can't use it for places I haven't been, coattails. I can get to Mafia Town easy, but finding the damn rock will be on foot. Feh. And I'm not exactly liked there, either."

"You'll find a way."

For the first time, Empress was the one delivering the cold undertone of threat. Insistence that Snatcher would do the job she set forth, or there would be consequences.

Snatcher, not appreciating this, glares at Empress without fear. She had the nerve to order him? Another smile curves across his ebony features.

"OHHH WILL I? Good to know you're so confident in the shelf life of your soul! Don't play with the big dogs, kitty cat, or you'll end up scraps on the floor. You must want whatever's in that stupid rock quite badly, to have the guts to threaten ME."

"I do. It doesn't matter to me what it is - it's rare, and out of my reach. Therefore, I want it." The sheer depth of her desire to claim the best pieces of this pie for herself was overwhelming. A meteor that size could house untold riches, materials from beyond the planet, and so much more. A starfall this large would probably never happen again in her lifetime. It had to be hers. "Bring the best of the best from that rock to me, and you'll have your payment plus a little extra."

Snatcher's waning attention returns in force, along with the smile.

Leonard and the other cats stare at Empress in fear. She was going to offer more, when he was already taking so much?

Snatcher claps his hands together.

"WONDERFUL! I'm glad we could see eye to eye. I suppose I should really get going, then! A shame our visit couldn't last longer- oh, and one more thing. I'm going to need one of your little assistants, for this to work. I'll even let you pick! Just know there's a high chance you might not see them again, just a little disclaimer."

Empress quirks a brow. Really? He wanted an assistant? A strange request, for a spirit who claimed to work alone. But she didn't see a problem with it- she had bodies to spare. And Empress had just the one in mind. Lifting a paw, she points it to Leonard, who gives her an abashed stare.

"That one should do fine. Consider this your punishment, Leonard."

"Wait- but Empress, I-!"

"WELL HELLO AGAIN!" Snatcher sings, looping his body down so that it entraps Leonard in a ring of shadow. The tomcat puffs up his fur and jumps in alarm. "If it isn't little messenger boy! You're actually a good choice for this, considering your soul is in my back pocket, so you don't have anything to fear from teleporting! Let's hitch up this pony and go for a ride - ta tahh!"

Snatcher grabs the flustered and wriggling tomcat in one mitt, the claws wrapping around the struggling lackey's body. His other hand raises to give Empress a mocking wave.

"I expect those souls wrapped up with a bow by the time I get back!"

Shadows from all around the room begin to pool in the center. Underneath the shattered bulb socket, Snatcher slides into the puddle with the seamless transition of an otter vanishing underwater. The last parts of him visible are the hand clutching Leonard, the cat's eyes panicked and wide before slamming shut in fear, and the long slithering tail of the ghost spaghetti. The nexus of shadows shrink away to nothing, Le Félin's back room no longer filled with a suffocating claustrophobia that was too empty and open at the same time. Cats stand about in silence, looking to one another, the broken bulb scattered on the tile, and Empress herself.

Empress sighs.

"We'll continue the meeting of operations tomorrow. And Rufus, get a broom to clean up this broken glass, you furball, before I use your tail instead!"

"Y-yes ma'am!"

Empress reclines back on her chair, running a hand through some stray coins on a nearby table. Clanking of heavy coins always soothed her frayed temper. And soon, soon she would have the greatest moneymaking scheme in the bag, cementing her position as the richest cat in the whole world. Money was power, and her control of the Metro district would expand. Perhaps even globally.

What a wonderful day to be wealthy.

Chapter Text

Leonard comes to on cool grass, his whiskers flicking as it tickles his nostrils. A strong twitch of his nose, and the black cat lets out a short sneeze, shaking out the fur on his head and dislodging the hat in the process. He groans as he pushes his palms underneath his body, laying facedown in the dirt. It smells earthy and fresh... with a slight tinge of barbeque scent on the breeze.

"FINALLY, you're up. You're such a big baby. It wasn't even that long of a teleport! Okay yes it was, but it's not like you lost all your blood or something."

Leonard turns his head so he can squint a single golden eye in the direction of the voice. His vision is blurry from semi-consciousness, but there's no mistaking the purple black mass with a honey yellow grin less than ten feet to his right.

"Why did-" a gruff cough "-why do you even need me? You're a ghost that can walk through walls and teleport."

Snatcher lets out a dramatic, offended gasp. The specter puts one mitt over his chest like a Victorian lady given scandalous news about someone's ankles.

"For SHAME, Lenny! How dare you stereotype us ghosts! Not all of us can teleport and walk through walls."

...

"...well, can you?"

"Yes but that's besides the point."

Leonard growls, finally pushing himself up into kneeling position as he fixes his clothing.

"You didn't answer my question. Why am I relevant at all? You already have my soul, you devil."

Snatcher grins in silence, gleeful and smug.

...

"....you've gotta be kidding me."

"Guess who's the lucky fella who gets to be my new meat shield? BINGO! That's YOU, big guy!" Snatcher sings, throwing up his arms as though tossing confetti. "I don't want to get punched in the face by pajama wearing idiots, so you're going to be my distraction and get punched for me while we walk around! I'm so generous, aren't I?"

"What, are you gonna possess me or some shit?!"

"EW!! Peck no!! Mortal bodies are disgusting!"

The looming shadow noodle scrunches up his face into an exaggerated look of revulsion, cringing back from Leonard as the cat slowly sits up. Snatcher rubs at his wrists, fidgeting and curling fanged lip.

"Feeling guts move inside you, breathing to stay alive- no thank you! No, no, I just need your shadow so I have mobile transportation. Once I hide in it, only someone with sharp eyes will even know I'm there, and nothing about those morons in Mafia Town is sharp."

"Why would you even be worried about getting punched?? You're a ghost for peck's sake."

"Look it doesn't feel great when a fist phases through your chest, ok furball? Don't judge me."

Leonard huffs, grumbling to himself as the suited black cat gets to his feet, dusting off his clothing. Turning on one heel, he gets a good look around.

So, they really did just teleport all the way here, huh? Sure enough, Mafia Town's marble architecture glistened in the sunlight of coastal weather. A breeze tinted with salt brushed his face and tugged at his ragged old suit. Seagulls called in the distance, drifting like paper kites over the crystal blue water. The famous geyser spewed an endless stream of hundreds of gallons of water into the air. Suspended above it was-... a massive platform of some sort. At this angle, Leonard couldn't tell what exactly. The two of them were tucked away in an old brick alleyway, weeds and grass poking through the cracks in the crumbling adobe. Flyers and papers were stuck and nailed to the walls all around, some depicting what looked like the face of a little girl wearing a mustache. They had big red X's slashed through them with crayon.

Snatcher, looming in the shadow of a building nearby, scoffed at the sight of the pristine buildings overhead.

"Garish. Too clean for my taste. How do they expect anyone to see anything with so much sunlight? All this marble is hurting my eyes, and my aesthetic. Let's hurry this up, meat shield, we have work to do."

Before Leonard can protest, Snatcher lunges toward him with unprecedented speed. The tomcat has a split second of wide eyes before he throws up his arms and curls on himself, instinctive defense taking over.

...and nothing happens. He wasn't grabbed, clawed, manhandled, nothing.

Blinking his eyes open, Leonard lowers his raised foot, ears perking.

Snatcher was gone. The massive spook had vanished from sight.

Turning left and right, Leonard frowns in confusion, righting the hat on his head. Where did that talking noodle go-

"Down here, genius."

The voice draws the cat's golden eyes to look toward the pavement, to one side. The only thing of prominence on the ground is his shadow, which turns unbidden to gaze at him with luminous eyes and a crescent grin. Leonard jumps, tail poofing out as he stumbles over a stray cardboard box.

"Get moving already, pipsqueak, I want those souls by the end of tonight."

Leonard takes a quick second to recover from the shock, grabbing his tail and smoothing it out by paw as he throws a quick indignant glare in his shadow's direction. A quick flick of the tail to show his annoyance, and he starts to walk out of the dead-end alley, grumbling under his breath the whole way. The old adobe bricks feel strange under his paws, interspersed with dirt and crumbling papers. He was accustomed to concrete, tile, and smooth metal. The atmosphere in this town already felt more earthy, timeworn, compared to the city he grew up in.

And upon stepping foot out into the sunlit streets, the quiet peace of a coastal town is shattered immediately, as a gigantic haunch of meat goes rolling right past his nose.

Leonard yowls and springs back, whiskers twitching from how close he'd come to getting mowed down by a gargantuan hunk of mystery meat. Braced against the marble walls, he pants for breath, golden eyes flicking in the direction of the monstrosity. What the peck was that?

The answer turned out to be a very robust human in a pinstripe suit with an apron. Top-heavy didn't even begin to describe this man, his arms and shoulders wider than three alley cats put together. His eyebrows and mouth were held into a stern expression of disapproval for the brief moment that it was in Leonard's range of vision. Glowering in a pinch of distaste, the bald-headed stranger wore a pencil mustache that matched the curve of his mouth. Standing atop the hunk of meat, the man was rolling the trophy size butcher's cut underfoot as though it were a tree trunk in a logroll competition. He didn't even slow as Leonard watched him depart.

"What the peck-?" the Metro cat wheezed, one clawed paw clutching at his pounding heart.

"Awww, it missed you! What a shame. I was curious what a cat pancake would look like!"

"Will you be quiet," Leonard hissed toward the shadow. "You're not very subtle, you know."

"I don't have to be subtle! You're the one that'll take the hit instead of me, and it'll be hilarious!"

"Just shut it for now." Leonard growls, ears pinned in frustration. "I don't even WANT to be here, working with a noodle with a Napoleon complex."

Snatcher pouts from Leonard's shadow, his glowing eyes narrowed.

"You're no fun. Y'know, you don't strike me as the type to work with a manipulative peckneck like this Empress lady. You're too stiffnecked, you fun-killer."

"I don't WANT to work for her." Leonard hacks and spits to the side in disgust. His shadow loops out of the way to avoid it, giving Leonard an appalled look. "It's not like I had a choice, and now I'm roped into doing her goddamn chores instead of-"

"WHOOPS! I don't care!" Snatcher sings loudly, cutting Leonard off and earning an irritated scowl. "Zip it with the life story, we're not here to make nice. We're here to find a space rock so I can have a soul buffet. Now GET MOVING!"

The shadow makes a movement to reach forward. Ebony fingers break free from the planar surface, shifting from a cat's paw to a familiar clawed mitt. The shadow smacks harshly into Leonard's back, forcing the street cat to stumble forward into the road with a yowl. Arms pinwheeling at a frantic pace, Leonard's eyes shoot down to empty space below him.

Peck! They were at the edge of a dropoff!

Leaning backwards with every ounce of bodyweight, the black cat manages to tip his center of gravity away from the ledge, and land on his tail back on solid brick. A yip escapes him as he nurses his tail for a moment. Ow, his spine...

Getting up off the ground for the second time today, Leonard scootches back from the ledge, and starts to jog his way down the street.

Only now that they were out in the broad and empty streets did the alley cat witness the effect the Cooking Mafia had on this settlement. Besides the giant rolling meat haunches that barreled down avenues at random, there were literal barrels full of wine next to barrels of spilled gunpowder, giant confectionery items and ingredients for explosives scattered everywhere. Massive wheels of cheese, discarded fruit that looked half-baked in the sun, a pile of gravel that he only realized upon close inspection was in fact a mountain of raw salt, next to yet more gunpowder. Caution tape zipped across random entryways and around stationary objects. Graffiti and hastily constructed orders from the Mafia littered the walls and sidewalks. As if that weren't enough, there were safety hazards and damage from explosions every other building block. Ruined walls, craters in the ground, an entire stack of dynamite-filled crates just sitting in the pavilion square one layer of elevation below them. However lovely this coastal town must have been back in its heyday, it looked more like a college student's bedroom at present.

As much as Leonard disliked Empress and her methods, she would never have allowed the Metro to reach this sorry state.

Leonard hoped nobody dropped any lit matches anytime soon.

Where to begin searching for information on a local starfall?

--

Navigating Mafia Town was more difficult than it looked, much to the Nyakuza's chagrin.

The local population refused to open doors or windows when he came knocking, so going door to door wasn't an option. Out of everyone outdoors on this half of the island, a good ninety percent of the individuals were... identical to the man Leonard had seen racing along a giant meat haunch. In fact, all of them looked, behaved, and spoke exactly the pecking same. They even shared a name- Mafia. Were they actually individuals? Or a hive mind of a greater organism? He just didn't know. The few people he'd seen outside that weren't wearing pinstripe suits were tourists taking pictures of seagulls, or elderly folk, cowering in fear while getting harangued by the Mafia goons for money. One poor sap was surrounded and getting kicked by a ring of the bullies. Leonard had no intention to take his place, so he walked right along. The few Mafia he did ask were standoffish and unhelpful, just talking about how the Mafia was so great and claiming he owed them somehow? It was all very confusing.

Hot, tired, frustrated, Leonard approaches yet another Mafia standing by his lonesome.

"Hello, my good sir," he meows up toward the massive figure on the balcony. Seeing that the Mafia has a hand held up, Leonard copies the gesture with a paw. It was probably a greeting, a first thus far. "I'm new in town, and I was hoping you could point me in-"

The Mafia's raised hand flies forward and smacks into Leonard's, giving the cat pause as he registered what just happened. Did- the goon just hit his paw?

Hesitant, Leonard repeats the movement, smacking the Mafia's hand back.

The goon does it again, this time swapping hands as he smiles.

Leonard is now extremely confused. What, was this a game? Well, whatever gets a local to talk to him, fine.

The two continue smacking each other's hands, and Leonard recognizes the behavior at last. A secret handshake - how delightful! He used to get those from his colleagues. Though, it was odd that this goon offered handshakes to complete strange-

The Mafia goon's hand rears back, curling into a fist before flying forward and connecting with Leonard's jaw.

kRAK

Leonard releases a mRREYOW of shock. The force from the meaty blow knocks him right off his paws, the alley cat flung off the road and smacking back-first into a brick wall. Dazed, Leonard peels off the wall and thuds to the pavement. Low burbles and grunts of pain roll out of his chest. Ooowwww... his jaw was gonna smart from that one. Might have given him whiplash, too...

It didn't help that a muffled snickering came from the shadow next to him. Leonard shoots the nearest glowing eye a glare.

"You have to admit, that was hysterical!" Snatcher isn't trying very hard to hide his laughter. "AHAHAHA! You walked RIGHT into that one!"

"You brought me along for laughs- to torture me," Leonard growls, his voice quaking as he manages the soreness in his spine. "You can- disguise as me, you didn't need me to come along for this. This- is bullshit."

"I teleported us both across the entire planet in one single leap just an hour ago! Cut me some slack, fuzzball! You think I have energy to spare to walk around as your smarter, more handsome twin? 'Cat' isn't really my style, but I know I pull it off better. Unless you want me to snack on your soul real quick to get back some of my zip, that's not going to happen anytime soon. I'm not trading a four course meal for tidbits. So SUCK IT UP, and keep getting punched in the face until we land on this rock your boss wants."

Leonard tugged at his collar in the heat of the sunny day. Whoof. Perhaps he should expand his wardrobe past charcoal grey and navy blue - it might help combat the heat he collected as a black cat. He was roasting in his own fur.

"You sure have a lot of rules about what you can and won't do," Leonard says, side-eyeing the spirit hiding in his shadow. "How much of it are you making up on the fly so you can just let other people do your work for you?"

The glowing eyes narrow.

"Peck off my business! I don't pry into your baggage, don't pry into mine."

"You already did the ultimate prying by taking my soul, you piece of-"

"HEY! YOU! CAT WEIRDO, DOWN THERE!"

The new voice causes Leonard and Snatcher to pull up short, glancing left and right before craning their necks back to gaze upward.

Far over their heads, a massive bell tower hangs at the edge of an upper city ring. Compared to everywhere else, it hasn't sustained as much damage beyond the occasional graffiti in chalk. Lacking in windows save for a few small openings, the most notable feature is the open belfry at the tip top of the construction. Leaning over the edge of a marble railing is a figure dressed in red. Short in stature, their features are difficult to make out at this distance, but the faintest curl of blond hair could be picked out.

Snatcher groans from the shadow, curling his lip over one fang. He had a bad history with a blonde. Would this one be just as troublesome?

"YES, YOU!!" the voice cries out again. There's no doubt it's coming from the red-hooded person. "WHY ARE YOU TALKIN' TO YOURSELF SO MUCH? THAT'S REALLY WEIRD! AND YOU DON'T LOOK LIKE YOU'RE FROM AROUND HERE!"

"Th- THAT'S RIGHT!" Leonard cups his paws to his mouth, yelling up in response. He wasn't going to deny the little bit of satisfaction it gave him to see Snatcher cover his shadow disguise's ears. "I'M NOT FROM AROUND HERE! ARE YOU A LOCAL?"

"BORN AND RAISED HERE!" The voice replies again, smug and proud. And young as hell. "AND YOU DEFINITELY WEREN'T! I THOUGHT ALL KITTIES LIVED IN THE CITY 'CROSS THE GLOBE?"

"WE DO!" Leonard yowls up toward the belfry. "I'M UH- HERE ON VISIT!"

There's a barely audible gasp from up above.

"ARE YOU HERE TO SAVE THE ISLAND FROM THE MAFIA??"

Leonard's brows furrow. He- didn't understand how what he said connected to that, at all. Snatcher seems to share the sentiment, the spirit in his shadow matching the expression. Leonard cups his paws again for another yell.

"UH- WHAT?"

"COME UP HERE, AND WE CAN TALK WITHOUT NEEDIN' TO YELL! I'LL LOWER THE CRANE FOR YOU - GET ONTO THE ROOF OF THE OLD OBSERVATORY!"

"UM- OKAY??"

Leonard sweeps his attention about, and spots a dome-topped building. The brass-plated roof was capped by a brass globe - that had to be the place. The metal makes an echoing thunk under each pawstep. Thank god he was light on his feet. Leonard had a suspicion this roof wouldn't hold out through another bomb explosion.

"Ah, what are you doing?"

"I'm getting us information," Leonard snaps in Snatcher's direction. "Don't drag me into this if you're going to argue about my methods."

The spirit doesn't get more time to protest before a loud CLANK sound rocks the air. Over their heads, a crane holding a palette of I-beams rumbles to life, chains and engines moving as the giant construct begins to turn in their direction. The platform putters to a stop above them, chains grinding on the massive pulleys as it drops foot by foot down to their level. The rickety, swinging platform clunks to a halt at the same height as Leonard's ankles.

Leonard fixes the sleeves of his coat, and steps aboard.

The resulting jolt of the platform starting the journey back up the cliffside nearly knocks Leonard off his feet again, but he manages to keep steady. He did not want to fall down the cityside. That would be significantly worse than just getting clocked in the face by a Mafia grunt in pajamas. Going as high as it can, the crane platform stops at a window below the top floor of the bell tower. Leonard eagerly steps off and squeezes through the window, shaking out his fur to calm his nerves. Feeling solid wooden planks under his paws again, the street cat ascends the winding staircase to the belfry.

A golden bell about six feet in diameter hangs from the center beam of the belfry, the metal tarnished and specked with oxidization from exposure to sea air. Despite this, the surface is rather polished and smooth. Whoever lived here must take good care of it. Across from the staircase stands-

-a child. A human child, wearing a full set of red attire, complete with a hood covering most of her long blonde hair, and boots on her tiny little feet. Her most notable feature is a manicured little handlebar mustache, the same flaxen blonde as her mane of barely tamed locks and pigtails. Leonard couldn't tell if it was real, or fake- it looked quite real.

The little girl half his height puts her hands on her hips, amber yellow eyes sizing up the ragged, bruised alley cat.

"So!" The girl's voice was stronger, and louder up close than Leonard had expected. "Weird crazy cat person! You're here to help liberate this place from the grip of those terrible Mafia goons! I'm VERY grateful for support from the outside world at last. Now the rebellion can finally begin in earnest! We just need to get a really big blender, a lot of rope- like, a LOT of rope- and start gathering them all up-"

"Wait wait wait," Leonard cuts in, holding up his paws in a placating gesture. "That's- not why we came here. We're here to see the starfall site. It was- uh- in the news?"

The Mustached Girl glowers, folding her arms.

"Oh come onnnnn, I saw you get decked in the face! You know how awful they are- they ruined this place! Nobody even remembers how nice it used to be. And why did you say 'we'? Got a split personality? You're really weird."

"You've said that," Leonard mumbles, ears flattening the longer this conversation progresses. "Look, I get it, but it's not my business to speak for the city cats on this. I just want to see where the starfall is."

"THEN will you help me throw out the Mafia?"

"OH my god- SHEESH kid will you GIVE IT A BREAK?!"

Leonard and Mustache Girl jump, though only Leonard turns toward the source of the yell. Before either can say a word, the shadow peels off of the belfry floor, growing and shifting until the cat-shaped impression becomes a massive purple ghost with a neck ruff of fur. The golden mouth is turned into a smile, and not a happy one.

"Let me make this very clear, kiddo. I DON'T CARE. ABOUT YOUR STUPID PAJAMA GANG PROBLEMS. We're here to find that meteor crash, and you're going to TELL us where it is. Capiche?"

Mustache Girl gasps, mouth agape as she falls back on her behind. Staring up at the specter with awe- which becomes excitement.

"Oh- oh- oh my goodness! A GHOST! A real ghost! This is AWESOME!"

Snatcher nearly chokes on his next words.

"I'm sorry- what."

"THIS IS INCREDIBLE!" Mustache Girl sings, jumping to her feet with hands in the air in triumph. "A real ghost could do some REAL damage to the Mafia! You're my ticket to taking the town back!"

"NO way, kid, not gonna happen. I'm already WAY out of my comfort zone out here on this hunk of dirt in the middle of the ocean. I am NOT going to be part of another Baby's First Revolution."

"What if I can get you to the thing that fell from the sky? The bridge is protected by a whole bunch of goons. They're dumb, but they won't move without a good distraction."

Snatcher smirks, lifting a hand and clapping the mitt on Leonard's back. The force nearly throws the cat forward, coughing a few times from the air getting knocked out of him.

"That's why I have Meat Shield here, kiddo."

"Well, is Meatball here the number one wanted criminal in town? I don't think sooooo~! Face it, Noodly, you NEED me."

"Meatball?" Leonard repeats, not happy about yet another nickname.

Snatcher's smirk dissolves back into a frustrated glare. His glowing eyes flick from Leonard to Mustache Girl, who only stares back at him, just as smug and triumphant as before. A growl of reluctance builds in Snatcher's torso.

"Nnnggrgrrr- FINE. Take us to the starfall, and MAYBE I'll consider help with your little thug problem."

"SUPER-DUPER!" Mustache Girl does a twirl on the spot, shifting into a power stance. "We'll raze the whole lot of them and put them in a giant jam jar! Super Mustache Girl, and her sidekick, Spooky Noodle!"

"Are- you serious? Your name is actually Mustache Girl?" Leonard's ears twitch, one up and one down in perplexity.

"Well, yeah, the Mafia gave it to me," Mustache Girl shrugs as she turns to stand on the pane of the open belfry window. "Don't exactly have parents for that anymore. You can call me Mu or something for short if you want."

"What is everyone's problem with giving sobstories?!" Snatcher complains. "When will you learn those are meant only for campfires and trashy romance novels?! And my name is NOT Spooky Noodle! I'm the Soul Snatcher of Subcon Forest, you little-"

"Sorry, can't hear you over my societal rebellion!" Mustache Girl yells as she swings down a rope, skimming the building's marble wall until she reaches the brick road below. "Hurry your noodle butt up! I guess you can come too, crazy kitty man."

Snatcher's hands clench, claws digging into his palms as though envisioning this child's neck between them. Fangs bared, he holds back. For now. Vanishing back into Leonard's shadow, the specter seethes in silence, which Leonard is grateful for.

"Please don't murder a little girl," Leonard pleads half-heartedly as he grabs the rope and begins the descent.

"No promises."

When they reach the street, it's nearer toward the island center, a city level higher than they had been at the base of the tower. The central plaza has a large fountain. Part of the marble wall keeping the water contained is smashed in by a piece of debris, a trail of ruined brick and carved out dirt leading up to it. Mustache Girl stood next to the damage, tapping her boot in wait.

"Wow, you two suck at climbing!" she calls out to them. "You're acting like you've never done a proper rebellion before."

"We haven't," Leonard says, frowning.

"Speak for yourself, Lenny."

Something tells Leonard he might not want to bother asking for clarification on that one.

Mustache Girl stops next to the piece of space debris, turning to face the both of them. A silence hangs for a moment as they look at the odd, twisted-looking piece of rock and metal.

"...is that it? This tiny little ROCK?"

"Nope! This is just an itty bitty little piece that came off of the bigger one. It's super weird-looking, isn't it?"

Snatcher's patience was thinning.

"Then where's the BIGGER one?"

"That way-" Mustache Girl points in toward the street past the fountain "-on the other side of the island."

...

Silence.

"You mean to tell me, we were looking on the WRONG SIDE of the island THIS WHOLE TIME?"

"Pretty much!" Mustache Girl, unfazed, skips off toward the street that leads down to the oceanside. "Come on, this way- you can't miss it!"

Snatcher lets out a wordless exclamation of rage. Out of the corner of his eye, Leonard can see his shadow writhing with anger. God, he couldn't wait for this mission to be over- he didn't ever want to deal with a pissed off ghost snake again.

Leonard jogs after Mustache Girl's fast pace. Ignoring Mafia grunts on the way who try to ask him to pay a road toll- and throwing a quick middle paw bean at another Mafia goon asking for a handshake- the alley cat turns down a winding road towards the beaches on the island's northern half.

The Nyakuza skids to a stop, inhaling a small gasp at the sight once they crest the island's divide.

Mustache Girl, and Empress, had not been exaggerating. The object that crashed from space was enormous. Within plain view of the island's people, a giant hunk of material- crusted with thick space dust and gleaming with unnatural shine- jutted out from the ocean floor. Right from the bat, the shape was far too geometric, too neat and rectangular to be a collection of rocks from space. Jagged edges of translucent material formed the unmistakable web of broken glass. The glass was set into neat square windows the size of a two-story house, metal frames bent and twisted from heat and scarred from impact. The outside of the object sported worn-off colors and blast marks, along with damage from a different object- some sort of rock?- lodged into one side. Constructed, not organic.

"...Well. That wasn't what I was expecting."

That wasn't a meteorite at all.

It was a ship.

Chapter Text

Living in Subcon Forest presented certain... challenges. Despite being a very well-read and learned individual, Snatcher's knowledge had gaps. Cut off from the outside world besides a couple holidays out every now and again, he didn't consider himself a master of technology. The few times a victim wandered into his woods with technology on their person, it lasted maybe three days before some minion fumbled it into the lake or dropped it from a treetop. Water and heights, it turns out, are the ultimate weakness of metal things. The few instances he'd managed to see any sort of tech before its premature fate, his giant fingers were not exactly suited for handling and operating the normal mortal-sized equipment. He definitely wasn't responsible for the occasional handheld devices being skewered.

This? This gigantic ship from outer space? This was worlds beyond that one time he found a metal rectangle that pestered him for some kind of password. What did he look like, the Tomb of the 40 Thieves?

The fact that this object was a craft and not a simple rock to be broken open... complicated things. How the peck was he supposed to know what was most valuable in a space ship? The metal walls, or whatever they sheltered? Guess the only way to know for real was to check it out.

"Pon for your thoughts? You've been awfully quiet."

Leonard's muted voice pulls Snatcher out of his thoughts. Annoyed, the ghost pouts at him from his shadow.

"And you're supposed to be on lookout for patrols, not my personal musings."

Snatcher hated the way the cat rolled his eyes in response. He'd have to give his meat shield a lesson in staying the appropriate amount of scared in his presence. He was a malevolent spirit of the woods, god dammit.

"Where did the little brat go? She's taking longer than she said she would."

Leonard shrugs, returning to his post behind the shipping crate.

"I don't know. Might still be setting up whatever she's planning."

Across the dock from them stood a gaggle of Mafia grunts. The men were clustered in a semicircle, blocking off access to the base foundation of the bridge leading to the crash site. It was about as well constructed as one would imagine, from explosive-obsessed cooks. The handiwork of the bridge's base was solid, but support beams tilted at random angles from settling into the coast's sandy bottom. Tethers and ropes strung the whole underside in webbing to keep unstable beams from felling the lot of them. As a result, the platforms they attempted to secure atop the uneven track also tilted at random, some sporting gaps impossible for the layperson to cross. Athleticism was required to get as far as platform five, much less out onto the rickety supports that had yet to be dressed with platforms.

But first, they had to worry about the guards.

The Mafia construction workers had gone on break just a few minutes prior, and Mu had instructed Snatcher and Leonard to wait for her signal, then they would be able to cross uncontested. Mu hadn't clarified what this signal would look like before she dashed off down the nearest street.

"Remind me why we agreed to let that miscreant in on my mission, again?"

"You're the one that allowed it. Don't you point your fingers at me."

"You're talking quite a lot of smack for someone within head-popping range, Lenny."

Snatcher grinned wide, seeing the fur stand up on Leonard's back again. Good. At least the cat still had some notion of who he was dealing with. Satisfied, the specter turns to look at the array of pajama-wearing punching bags. It really was a shame the sun was so bright out. He would have loved to just zip right over and gobble every one of their souls. The cursed heat orb in the sky was on its way to setting, so there was that, but he was getting tired of waiting hours for things to happen.

"If she doesn't come back within the next five minutes, I'm going to hunt down that little brat and eat her soul on the spot- WHAT is that awful racket?!"

A vibration was building in the brick and concrete around them, gaining volume and intensity at a steady rate. Snatcher growled and puts his hands to the sides of his head.

Leonard's ears twitch, the cat straightening as he peeks over the box, ears angled toward something. Something was coming. Either something very large, or-

"COMIN' THROUGHHH!"

-bWAK BKAWWAKKAW KAW-

Black feathers fly in the air as many tiny bodies the color of charcoal thunder around the corner. A writhing mass of the island's native dwarf crows, screeching and cawing as they scrambled over one another. Enraged, beady eyes gleaming in the sunlight, they leap and hop and race after a blonde-haired figure in a red hood. Mustache Girl heads the entire charge of dwarf crows. In her arms, she clutches a bucket full of bird eggs. Every once in a while the crows get close enough to snag at the lip of her boots, causing Mu to jump and yelp before stumbling back into a dead sprint. Beaks flew at her hood, back, legs, elbows, and face whenever they could reach it.

Snatcher blinks, watching the spectacle as it approaches the docks at high speed.

The Mafia standing guard at the bridge look up in unison, confused and concerned. Was that-?

"HEY PUDDING-BRAINS!" Mustache Girl yelled at the top of her lungs, lifting the bucket over her head with both hands. "CATCH!!"

Reeling back with all her tiny might, Mu overhand chucks the bucket of crow eggs straight toward the cluster of Mafia.

Leonard turns his head away from the resulting bombshell in a reflex to avoid being splattered, but Snatcher keeps his eyes on the carnage, his grin widening. Oh this was just delightful! The Mafia were yelling in surprise and dismay as eggshells shatter against clothing, skin, and the dock itself. An explosion of yolk and egg whites bloom from the point of impact, coating the assembly of guards in shiny, sticky fluid. Yelling in disgust, the Mafia barely get a moment of reprieve before the crows set upon them, their round bodies belying the sharpness of their massive beaks. The yelling becomes frantic and pained.

"OWOWOW! GET OFF, TINY BIRDS!"
"EGGS ARE FOR STOVE, NOT FACE!"
"MY T-SHIRT!"
"YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS, LITTLE MUSTACHE GIRL!"

Doubled over with laughter, Mustache Girl wipes at her eyes and brings her hands up to blow a raspberry in their direction.

"NYEHHH! I GUESS YOU'D CALL THAT AN EGG-WASH, HUH YOU BIG MEANIES?!"

"BOSS WILL PUT YOU IN JAIL LONG TIME FOR THIS ONE!"

The first Mafia to his feet has three dwarf crows hanging from various limbs, and one dangling from his ear. Red with fury, the man starts sprinting towards Mustache Girl, arms out and ready to grab. The other two follow suit, one spitting out eggshell. The mass of outraged crows are at their heels, tearing at pinstripe suit and ankles alike.

Mu turns and bolts. Her stride easily outrunning the bulky Mafia goons, laughing the whole way, she dashes off into the streets and out of the marina. The angry yelling of the Mafia and the raucous cawing of crows begin to fade as they vanish down an avenue at the other side of the pier.

...the hiding alley cat and ghost stare after the vanished spectacle for a few seconds longer.

"...I still hate that kid. But I can respect an agent of chaos! I take it the signal was somewhere in that mess?" Snatcher speaks up.

"I guess?" Leonard says, ears flat in uncertainty.

Snatcher glances from the cat to the open dock gangplank, then back to the cat.

"WELL, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! Get to the bridge already!"

Leonard jolts, startled, and races across the open dockways. The way is clear- no further guards to impede their progress. Now they just had to cross the damn thing. Leonard picks up speed as he nears the first raised gangplank, bunching his calves and springing up into the air. God, it had been years since he'd had to use his natural-born agility like this. He hoped he still had enough spring to make it across.

The Nyakuza lands, bracing the impact with his legs. Claws rake small skidmarks into the grain before he picks up again, and powers forward. His heart pounds in his chest, matching the clunk clunk clunk of his pawsteps on the wood below. His breath pants into the facemask, hot and shallow from exertion.

Easygoing, so far. They weren't detected.

Another bristle, another leap.

Snatcher glowered at the sky. The sun's rays beat down from overhead, even as it followed the path to the horizon. It was still warm and light out, and probably would be for another half hour. The downed ship ahead looked dark, inside. At least he would be able to stretch out and not be forced to hide in another's shadow for his own comfort. Had the mystery ship been explored already? He hoped not- he'd have to hunt down whoever pilfered from the wreck so he could assess the looted goods. That Empress had been overconfident the Mafia were too incapable and bumbling to have poked their way through it yet. Judging by the state of the bridge, that was probably true. But what about people like that brat with the mustache? One of the tourists, even? People went a long way to take 'souvenirs' that they shouldn't. He dealt with looters plenty of times in the ruins of Subcon.

crNCH

Snatcher is snapped out of his pondering by the sound of a board breaking. The yowl of a cat overhead is the only warning he gets as a plank snaps in half under Leonard's paw.

The Nyakuza yowls and flails in the air, dropping toward the sea below.

Shit! He couldn't lose his taxi right now!

Snatcher quickly exits from Leonard's plummeting shadow, flying up to the darkness on the underside of the bridge. Digging his claws into wood and wrapping his tail around a solid beam, Snatcher extends his other arm back down the way he came. His fingers hook into the back of Leonard's suit, the cat tucking his limbs like a kitten. A mewl coughs out of his throat at the force put onto his neck from stopping the fall. There's a bloop of water when his tail dips into the ocean. Leonard promptly yanks it back out and shakes it back and forth in his paws.

Snatcher lets out a small exhale, and reels Leonard back up to just below the deck. The ghost brings the cat up to eye level, eyebrow quirked at the way the cat was shivering, motionless in his grip.

"What's the matter? Afraid of a bath? HA."

No response.

...ah.

Snatcher snorts, then guffaws in Leonard's face as the cat shakes, staring at the water below.

"Don't tell me- you can't swim?"

Leonard shoots Snatcher a hostile glare, his puffed tail lashing back and forth in agitation. The facemask covers any teeth that might have been bared.

"The only cats in the Metro that can swim are the ones with flooded apartments," the cat hisses, which serves only to delight Snatcher further.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAAAA! Oh really? Then maybe I'll just... go the rest of the way across the bridge on the underside, so I can just keep dangling you over the water like this?"

He emphasizes his point by swinging the cat back and forth like a pendulum. Sweet, delicious fear. It was feeding Snatcher's devilish streak.

"Please- just put me back up on the platform."

Snatcher pouts, then shrugs. Looping his arm around, the ghost twists so he's curled over the top of the half-baked bridge. The giant shadow hand deposits Leonard by opening its fingers, dropping the cat a good five feet onto the planks. Snatcher retracts the limb back into the dark underside of the pier, his form oozing back up through the cracks in the wood as he hid away in the cat's shadow.

"I would have much preferred to see you doggypaddle your way to the ship, but this is faster, so whatever. You owe me one! And stick to the boards without duct tape, this time!"

Lenny bristles, rounding toward his shadow to protest and get angry- then stops.

...Snatcher's anticipatory grin fades in confusion, as Leonard dons a thoughtful look. Rather than arguing with the specter, he just turns, and keeps running. Focusing on the next leap to come.

Well that was disappointing.

"What, no snark? No comment on your soulless situation? No anger that I've put you in my debt yet again?" Snatcher prods, hoping for another entertaining reaction.

But none comes. Leonard is either ignoring him, or can't find a reason to argue- which is just- feh. No way.

Another high leap to the next platform. They're nearing the end of the planked tops, and coming up on scaffolding.

"So you're going with silent treatment, then? Does that make me the child getting scolded, or the disappointed parent, in this scenario?"

"I'm not arguing because you're right," Leonard finally admits.

Wait- huh?

Snatcher pulls up short, blinking in surprise. The ghost had not been expecting the cat to actually acknowledge it.

"Well- YEAH. Of course I'm right! About time we found something to agree on."

Wow, this was not the road Snatcher had thought this conversation would travel. His instinct was telling him to just drop it.

Turns out Leonard had other plans.

"You saved my life. So yeah, I owe you one."

Snatcher feels something seize in his spectral chest. A physical reaction from one with no physical body, the shadow reels as though he'd been punched in the gut. A forced choking sound fights it way up his throat. Snatcher scoffs, trying to save face.

"I DID NOT! Don't flatter yourself, furball! You're just my shadow taxi! I needed you as a free ride to get across the bridge, nothing more. And I'm still going to eat your soul when this is all over! UNDERSTAND?"

"Sure, whatever floats your boat." Leonard shrugs, slowing his running pace with a huff of breath as they reach the edge of the last platform. At least on this end, he could see what beams were supported and which weren't - there wouldn't be another splintered surprise if he could help it.

Snatcher, fuming and put off his guard, doesn't say a word as the alley cat shifts from parkouring across arguably shitty bridge construction, to definitely shitty scaffolding. The cat's shadow is shrunken by the narrow wooden construction, as Leonard balance-beam walks his way across the exposed skeleton of the bridge. Snatcher barely notices- or just can't bring himself to care.

Why did he save the cat? The stupid lackey of Empress had served his purpose- effortless transportation around Mafia Town, free of suspicion and wayward glances in his direction. The cat got him to a point where he could have used the shadows to make his way to the starfall object, slithering along the underside of the bridge. There was no good reason he couldn't have just let the stupid animal drop. Maybe it would help him have a bath that wasn't his tongue for once. It would have been funny, seeing him take a dunk! Part of Snatcher wanted to argue that it was preservation of the contract - but in truth, he couldn't argue that. Leonard's body being dead didn't stop him from returning the soul to Empress, even if she could do nothing with it.

If Leonard thought there was any sort of camaraderie involved in this mission, he was going to be sorely mistaken. Snatcher didn't want coworkers, and 'friends' was dimensions away from that.

Why was this so frustrating?

"Whoa, nelly..."

Leonard's quiet gasp catches Snatcher's attention. The ghost lifts his gaze just in time to see Leonard slink his way off the final plank, stepping toe down onto metal plates and singed carpeting. Shadows, cast by the looming overhang of bent and broken metal, wash over the both of them and cut out the sunlight.

They made it- they were inside the downed craft.

"Finally, I can STRETCH!" Snatcher sings, abandoning the cat's shadow to sit independent. He groans quietly in satisfaction as he stretches out his arms and arches his back in a feline fashion. Straightening in the room, Snatcher makes a show of getting cricks out of his neck and clenching his fists. The shadows around them both deepen and swirl with inky blackness, then fade back into normal afternoon gloom. "Ahh... I feel fantastic!"

Snatcher lifts a hand, and waves it palm-down at Leonard.

"Alright, your work is done here. Run along, I've got a contract to fill."

"Wh- are you serious?" Leonard says, incredulous. The cat stamps a foot on the remnants of carpet- aliens had carpet? "I ferry you all the way here, and you just throw me aside?!"

"Exactly! Thank you for your devoted work, meat shield. You can go off and be someone else's meat shield, now!"

"So I was just your Uber the whole time?!"

Snatcher blinks, his hands dropping. He squints at Leonard.

"My-...what?" Snatcher shakes his head to clear it of the confusion, and glowers. "Look, you're not useful to me anymore! And you should count yourself lucky, because most people who stop being useful to me end up far worse off. SCRAM!"

"NO! I came all the pecking way here, I'm not leaving empty-pawed!"

"FINE! Go ahead and stick your head in an alien garbage bin for all I care!" Snatcher jabs a claw into the cat's chest, the two glaring furiously at one another. "But if you interfere with my contract, I will deadlift you and throw your corpse back out into the sea."

Leonard smacks the hand away, making a derisive snort as he stomps across the room. Snatcher can tell from the pinned ears, puffed fur and stiff posture that Leonard is very angry.

Something about that didn't make Snatcher feel quite as jovial and self-respecting as usual.

Well- he can stay angry! Whatever he did wasn't Snatcher's business. And if the cat got squished like a bug on the way, he couldn't care less. The tantalizing lure of a potential dozen souls was tolling its siren song to him. Snatcher wanted to make this transaction and get home ASAP. His comfortable chair was waiting for him back in the hollow, along with all his favorite books. A nice big popcorn bowl of souls would pair amazingly with this new comedy he dug up, the Treatises of Diogenes.

Grunting, the ghost runs a hand through his fur ruff, whipping the end of his tail in response as he turns his attention to the interior of the craft.

Standing in the center of whatever purpose this room once served, it was quite a sight. Metal boxes covered in buttons that were dented in, half the plastic button caps popped off or missing. Gears and tubes lined the walls, roped through the floor, snaked across the ceiling. If it was the ceiling- the ghost couldn't tell what orientation the ship was intended to be in. Given there was ruined and soaked carpet under his tail, he wagered the ship had somehow landed upright, if angled a bit in the direction away from him. Even floating, he could feel the tilt to the floor. A big bulky block of the metal boxes and tubes led to a black glass screen of some kind. The top was cracked, and didn't respond when Snatcher tapped it with a claw. Whatever this thing was, it would never operate again.

Hm. If this room was supposed to serve a mechanical purpose to the ship, it was beyond him. There were no obvious treasures in this room, either. Thankfully, the power being off in this giant hunk of technology didn't prevent him from opening the doors. Leonard had taken the door to the right, so Snatcher chose the left. Wedging open the metallic plates produces a horrid squealing, as the material struggles and grinds across a charred deposit of space dust in the railing. Snatcher is filled with spite as he sees Leonard flinch and slap his hands down over his ears the next room over.

Slithering through the gap, the space around him opens up. The ceiling rises to twice that of the previous room- at least, until it gets crunched in near the far left side- and features the two largest window panes visible from the shore. Now that they're on the ship itself, Snatcher can see how thick the glass actually was, and boy howdy. Those were not windows you wanted to be around when they broke. Two feet thick, jagged and broken, the smallest piece landing on an unlucky pilot would kill them on the spot. Why even put windows on spacecraft? Structural weaknesses, all of them.

As if to match the windows, the room is wide and open. More abandoned and broken control boxes with cracked screens. Some sort of disc-thing on the floor, dented and unmoving. A railing and two ladders reach a second floor. A pair of swinging doors like a restaurant's kitchen hang open, one half on the hinge and the other flapping slowly in the ocean breeze. Perhaps that was the dining area? Yuck, a kitchen soaked in seawater. Foul. Anything in there would be long since spoiled, even alien food. Maybe he'd take a peek later for sheer morbid curiosity. But what truly caught the eye was the gigantic vault door on the upper level. Reinforced metal, smelted into the shape of a plate with gears and intimidating locks. Now that was where a treasure suitable in exchange for a dozen souls would be hiding.

Snatcher rubs his hands together. Anticipation builds in his dead heart, along with some dread on how he'd get through the door.

Just beyond this door, waited the ticket to sealing another deal-

"HEYOOO!"

"gH-!"

Snatcher freezes, neck ruff standing on end before he whips around toward the painfully familiar voice. The ghost levels a burning irritation in Mustache Girl's direction. The girl herself is covered in feathers, dirt, and a few scattered eggshells. She wears her disheveled hood and smug attitude with pride.

"YOU again? I thought you were leading those buffoons around town!"

Mustache Girl doesn't bother at all that Snatcher wasn't happy to see her.

"I gave them the slip - turns out I've been improving at the ol' bait n' switch!" Mu demonstrates a few more 'heroic' poses for the unamused Snatcher. "They're off trying to wrangle all those dwarf crows off of them, after I smashed some of their eggs on their faces."

"Truly you're a master of subtlety," Snatcher comments, eyes sliding back over to the vault door.

Mu doesn't pick up on the dripping sarcasm, beaming and standing tall.

"You bet I am! Now, you have to help me stop the Mafia!"

"Calm your horses, kiddo. I'm not done with my business here yet."

"And what IS your business, Spooky Noodle?"

Snatcher doesn't answer, spending a few seconds imagining how this child would look sinking into the tar bog of Subcon. Mood improved just enough to tolerate Mustache Girl a couple moments longer, he gives her a very pained, exaggerated smile as he tilts his head, hands clasped together.

"I'm here on a mission to get a little something from inside this ship. I'm fairly certain it's behind this big locked door. Getting inside might be tricky, though."

"Really? You want something from this crummy hunk of metal?" Mu puts her hands on her hips, quirking one brow as she examines the vault door. Heavy skepticism laces her face. "Whole thing looks pretty empty to me. Too broken to use as a house, either. And you should just float through the door! You can do that, can't you? You're a ghost!"

"Tsk tsk tsk, you have no PATIENCE, squirt. I was GOING to if you didn't interrupt me, now buzz off."

Before Mustache Girl can pester him with more questions, Snatcher regards the vault door. A cringe of discomfort shudders through his spectral form as he braces himself.

Sliding forward, the ghost can feel his essence phase through the thick metal. It's just as uncomfortable as the first time. The closest comparison he could think of was pins and needles through his entire body. Of all the sensations he retained from life, that had to be one of the few. He hated it just as much now as he did then.

Snatcher slips through the hefty vault door to the other side, blinking in the darkness of the adjacent chamber - though surprisingly, not as pitch black as he thought it would be for a sealed vault. The beams of light from his eyes and mouth shine into the space, and fall on a glittering mound of objects that emanate a dull, blue-white glow. Crystals, thin as paper and formed in the distinct shape of hourglasses, sit piled high in a large container of some sort. Within each hollow glass rests white sand, emanating light.

It was beautiful... and foreign to his shadowy essence. He hissed in disquiet. God dammit. Of course there would be light in this room. Clearly these hourglass things were very valuable- if not the crystal glasses themselves, then the sand they held within must be. It wasn't of this planet, at the very least, and for it to be shedding its own light meant it must have some sort of power. Weak or not, it was unique. Empress would be satisfied with this in trade.

But the fact they were glowing was a problem. He couldn't shift them through the walls, and they might reject his pocket dimension. Which means... he needed to find a way to open this damn vault door. In a dead, damaged, sea-waterlogged spaceship.

Snatcher slips back out of the vault with a grunt, shaking off his arms and fixing his fluff ruff.

To his left, he can hear the click click clack clack of something being pressed over and over.

Mustache Girl was at one of the broken panels of buttons, tapping combinations at random, or in rhythm to some tune in her head that Snatcher didn't care to know. She often accompanied them with words, which Snatcher was grateful he had not been privy to until this moment.

"Beep boop, boop beep, into the barn goes the sheep!" Mustache Girl says while practically line dancing on the buttons. She plays with the ones that are popped off on their springs. "Oh there you are, Noodly! Find anything good?"

"I found what I was looking for- and what the peck are you doing, small child? Stop playing with things you don't understand."

"I thought that's what this whole trip was about? Playing with something from space we don't understand? BOOM! GOTCHA!"

Snatcher growls under his breath, eyes narrowing as his fluff stands on end.

No. Stop. Control yourself. Don't waste your time with her, you have the trade of a lifetime on hand.

Taking a deep inhale he didn't need, Snatcher snorts out of nonexistent nostrils once.

"I'm going to look for a key to open this thing. STOP mashing all those buttons. You don't know what they're for. They could be traps."

Mustache Girl sticks her tongue out at Snatcher. Her hands are suddenly drumming every button she can reach with impunity.

"nYEEEHHh! You're not my mum, Spooky Noodle! You can't tell me what to do- you're MY sidekick! So here's what you're gonna do- you can go find a key thingy for that big metal door, and then I'll tell you where we're going to strike first on the Mafia base."

He was going to murder this child. But not immediately, no. Nooo, he would first have her strung up by each limb from the highest tree he could find, THEN he would instruct one of the minions to sit on her so the pain would be excruciating. Further salt in the wound would follow, in the form of the Subconite being given a box full of cookies, instructed to eat them as loud as possible without giving her any. Once her tiny child heart was broken, Snatcher would take her soul, then drop her face-first down Vanessa's chimney. The ice queen could have fun with her - it would be a swifter death than he would have preferred, but the prolonged dread and terror of being hunted by that bitch would satisfy him nonetheless.

...but first. He had to complete this mission.

He could come back and exact revenge for mocking him at another time.

Snatcher could feel the reddish-tinge to his outline fading, his form cooling back down from being spiked up in rage. Snarling and muttering to himself, the ghost whips around and drifts his way towards the one remaining door. At the far end of the room, the entrance lies on the first floor, once again sealed shut by whatever power this building once used to fly through space. It's much easier to pry this one open, though the tunnel beyond is partially flooded from the tilt of the spacecraft. Snatcher is grateful he can float- water wasn't nearly as bad as solid objects, but still uncomfortable. What he didn't see coming was how narrow this passageway turned out to be. He had to duck down and slither through like a snake to traverse it without his forehead phasing through ceiling.

puf

Snatcher blinks, looking down at the inexplicable object that just bumped into his cheek.

Floating atop the water, just outside the doors to the mystery room, was a pillow. In fact, just a few feet ahead was another pillow. And another. Five pillows floated on the shallow water in the tilted tunnel, and several more had sunk to the bottom of the tube two feet under. Snatcher prods one of the pillows with his lip curled over one fang. It makes a satisfying, if wet, squish under his finger before drifting in a slow spin atop the water. Hmm...

The second door is not so kind, as it gets stuck on some of the aforementioned sunken pillows.

Snatcher manages to wiggle an arm through, claws whipping around to dig into the accursed metal. The surface of the lower door squeals and crumples under the force, crunching it in like a tin can. A second set of clawed fingers joins the first, and with a hearty wrench, the lower door breaks free of the housing. Wires burst and fray, sparks flying as the ghost tugs it a few more times, before just dropping it straight into the water of the tunnel. Snatcher brushes off his hands, seeing some electrical currents run through the surrounding water. Eh. Should be fine. He was already dead. With no active lights and no sun overhead, this was his true element- the pitch darkness, where his power was greatest. He was untouchable.

Triumphant, and feeling quite proud of himself, the chuffed ghost slides his way into this new room.

Suspicions are confirmed when he sees the enormous four-poster bed, tilted on the floor and half submerged in seawater. It's empty. Odd. Snatcher hadn't seen a single occupant on this ship. So then, who was driving it, before it fell from the sky? Perhaps a robot somewhere, or that disc-thing he saw on the ground. He wasn't a technology expert, but he'd heard of robots.

The entire rest of the room is filled with a truly obscene quantity of pillows. Even in the complete darkness of this room, Snatcher's incredible night vision can pick out a large variety of colors, sizes, shapes, and materials. With no experience whatsoever in alien crafting and material, he can still make out equivalent textures to corduroy, velvet, maybe some satin. The staggering number of pillows is cradled by a large wall created by a pair of mirrored ramps. Bolted to the top of the ramps, extending over the pillows, is a plank of some sort. Was it intended to be a diving board, for this ridiculous decadence? At its current angle, it was utterly useless. The pillows, half-soaked and scattered in haphazard fashion by the crash and flooding, would not provide much soft landing, either.

With no bodies or robots in sight, Snatcher shrugs and shifts his attention to the toppled furniture. A large desk lies in ruin, pencils and crayons scattered everywhere. Patches of soggy rectangles that had once been paper dotted the walls and drifted on the water. The artistic quality was... undeveloped. Either this room belonged to a child, or to a proud parent of a child. Gross.

No use laughing over spilled milk! They were definitely dead by now, so there'd be no souls or spirits left to enjoy their suffering.

A quick rifle through the desk reveals nothing of interest. It's filled with art supplies that don't interest the specter. Along with... some rather out of place tools. Screwdrivers, protractors, a drafting compass. An architect's toolkit. Interesting, yet somehow also commonplace. None of this would get him into that vault. He shuts the drawer with a scowl, though he doesn't slam it as he felt he should have. Respecting the belongings of the dead only applied to him and his personal stash of things at the hollow.

Man... he would be lying if that shelf full of books wasn't tempting. Couldn't hurt to take a quick peek... maybe pilfer a few for his hoard. New material from an alien race- how exciting!

Snatcher gleefully approaches the bookshelf, grabbing the thickest tome he could find that wasn't soaked through. The smile drops as he finds he can't read the cover.

Damn. Should have seen that one coming, I guess.

Well, maybe there was still something of value to be had, here! He couldn't read them now, but there was plenty of time to kill (haha) in his eternal afterlife. He could dedicate some of his many lazy hours to decoding this fracas of symbols. A wealth of knowledge wasn't what Empress was after, and he felt no shame in taking these for himself. The Mafia certainly weren't going to use them outside of kindling. Lifting a hand, Snatcher opens a small rift to his pocket dimension, and starts picking through the bookcase for potential gems. Besides the few that were turned to sludge from seawater, he lobs every salvageable tome he can find. One after another, the books fly through the tear in reality, vanishing into the void beyond to be perused at a later date. They'd be safe from decay outside time and space.

All that's left is the wardrobe. A big, heftily-constructed piece of work. That had fallen forward onto its front in the crash.

Sighing, Snatcher cracks his neck and his knuckles. He didn't need to, but damn it felt good.

Kneeling down, the ghost extends his arms, looping them over and around the soggy wood. The arms loop around and around multiple times over, crossing themselves as he creates a heavy brace from his own limbs. He backs up toward the wall, tugging at the dresser with all his might. The dresser groans, soggy wood splinter and squeaking under the applied pressure. For a moment Snatcher worries it would fall apart into the water, as he feels the structural integrity of the dresser start to give. Finally it comes to rest on all four leg pegs, a puff of dust and mist spraying out from the shock of the wood settling. On this tilted floor, with waterlogged supports, it wouldn't stay upright for long. Snatcher grabs the nearest cabinet and pulls it open, beginning his search.

...

fsfssss

fsssHHPOP SKRSKRKRKK

Snatcher jumps, feeling his ruff stand on end from the sharp crackle of electricity. The loud pop from across the room made his head ring.

In that instant, he's blinded as every light in the room flickers to blazing life.

Snatcher screeches in pain that wasn't pain, his essence suddenly in stark, powerful existence against the bright beams from above. It hurt! It made him- weak!

He wants to be angry at whatever just happened. He doesn't get the time. A loud mechanical voice booms from speakers embedded in the corners of the ceiling. Pleasant, feminine, and sending acid to the pit of the ghost's nonexistent stomach.

WARNING. SECURITY COMPROMISED. WARP BAY COMPROMISED. HULL COMPROMISED. ATMOSPHERIC SHIELDING COMPROMISED. REFRIGERATOR COMPROMISED. INTRUDER ALERT. FUEL LINE RUPTURE DETECTED. MELTDOWN IMMINENT. PLEASE EVACUATE THE CRAFT IMMEDIATELY.

From the main chamber of the ship, Snatcher can hear a faint "oops" through the ringing in his head.

Chapter Text

"WHAT DID YOU D O?!"

The furious yell is all Snatcher can manage over the obnoxious peal of a siren. Snatcher's headache was already terrible from the noise and the powerful security lights. He didn't even know that was POSSIBLE for a ghost!

"I DON'T KNOW!" Mustache Girl yells from the other room. There's more frantic button-pressing in between her words. "IT JUST- GOT ZAPPED BY SOMETHING, AND SUDDENLY EVERYTHING BOOTED UP AND STARTED YELLING THINGS!"

Wincing from the light and sound, Snatcher's eyes fall on the door he'd ripped out of the housing, and subsequently dropped into the floodwater.

"I DON'T WANT EXCUSES!" Snatcher shakes his head and tries to clear it of the accumulating daze. The motion buys him a few more moments of lucidity- and anger. "IT'S A DOWNED SPACESHIP, OF COURSE IT'S GOING TO SHRIEK AT BEING CRASHED! YOU'VE JUST JEOPARDIZED MY CONTRACT, YOU LITTLE SNOT! I OUGHT TO KILL YOU RIGHT-"

Another piercing siren peal causes Snatcher to break off in a yelp, clamping his hands back down on the sides of his head.

The feminine voice patches through the intercom speakers a second time.

WARNING. T-MINUS TWO MINUTES UNTIL FUEL LINE DETONATION. PLEASE EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY.

Snatcher shakes his head again, tail lashing against the wet ground.

Shit! He had a timer to worry about, now?! And with all these lights on- he couldn't just go intangible or teleport to escape the blast. He had to get out of here.

But not without opening that damn vault door!

Snatcher whips toward the dresser again, and starts grabbing drawers left and right. Cabinets are thrown open. Dresser doors are ripped off their sides, some crumpling like wet paper in his palms. The drawers were full of useless clothing and- just garbage! Buttons, needles, fabric, thread and yarn- he wasn't a pecking seamstress! Where was the pecking key?!

Before long, the dresser is a standing honeycomb of squares. Empty, save for the scraps Snatcher left behind.

"gggNRGHAAAAAA!!"

cRNCH-cNCHK

The dresser collapses under the force of Snatcher's claws. Brought down like a hammer, the clenched fist splinters the soggy wood into mulch, falling apart and scattering on the saturated carpet of the alien bedroom. No sparkle of a key can be spotted in the rubble.

Frustrated, and uncertain where to look next, the ghost starts to rip apart the desk drawers in much the same manner.

"....brrrbbb..."

Snatcher falls still, a detached drawer clutched in his claws. The faint coo had nearly traveled straight past his hearing, amidst the occasional blare of sirens.

Did something in this room just make noise?

He turns around, glowing eyes skimming the room for intruders.

...there's nobody else in this room with him.

Fur bristling in irritation, the ghost huffs and slams the empty drawer from his hands to the floor. He couldn't let himself get distracted by stray ocean critters washing up in this wreck. He had a very narrow window to find that vault key and escape with his bounty-

"...oooooooo...?"

"WHO'S THERE?!"

Snatcher pivots again, his ruff still bristled in agitation as his slim glare sears around the inside of the room for the third time. But he wasn't fooled this go-round - that wasn't an animal noise. There was someone in here, and for whatever reason, he couldn't see them. Had one of the alien pilots survived the crash after all? He had no time to deal with obstacles!

"I CAN HEAR YOUR SORRY CARCASS! TELL ME WHERE THE KEY IS, OR I'LL FEED YOU TO THE SCAVENGERS!"

"oo-brbboooo? yaaAAAaa..."

...okayyyy, those were definitely not words he understood. The voice that produced them was small - very small. And most important, with his head starting to tune out the mind-numbing sirens, Snatcher could pinpoint where it was coming from. The gargantuan pillow pile, somewhere to the right. Aha- so they'd survived the impact by cushioning themselves in this giant mound of shock absorbers. Clever.

With a flash of shadows across soggy carpet, the ghost raises both arms, and begins scooping from the mass of pillows. Claws hook onto fabric and toss them aside. Pillows after pillows are discarded and land on the half-flooded decking with a faint splp and splshh. If the key to the vault was buried in this horrendous mess, Snatcher was gonna blow a gasket before the ship did.

"I know you're IN THERE- now COME OUT and FESS UP-!"

tNK

Snatcher recoils his arm as one hand strikes metal. A split second passes before his arms strike into the pile, grabbing hold of whatever was hiding within.

Latched in his grip, Snatcher pulls free some kind of... metal orb. The ovoid object flickers with tiny lights on the top and sides. A strong wiggle of the metal orb causes Snatcher to flinch and let go in shock- and the object, after dropping a few inches, lets out a gentle hum as it begins to float.

What the peck?

Was it a robot? But it made those sounds earlier!

The hovering egglike thing lets out a hsssss of air as a seam splits the top half, dividing it in a horizontal line down the middle. The seam widens, the top of the egg opening to reveal a cavity beneath.

Snatcher feels disconnected from his body in the deafening cacophony of light and sound, staring at the contents of the hovering container whose shape could no longer be misconstrued.

It was a cradle. And swaddled within its walls lay a tiny, tiny baby. The infant rested on soft cushioned bottom, a blanket wrapped around their lower half. Clothed in a soft onesie of deep violet, little hands with stumpy fingers clutch at the brim of similar-hued top hat. While child-sized, it's comically massive compared to the baby. The hat is decorated with a honey-yellow ribbon, and it covers nearly all of the baby's top half. The fingers on the edge squeeze the brim, and tug it to the side. The baby underneath has smooth, pale cheeks around a little button nose, and blinks open a pair of blue eyes. A short mess of tousled brown hair puffs out from under the remaining brim of the hat, causing them to blink some more, before those eyes focus on Snatcher.

The ghost is completely dumbfounded.

Wh- how? What?

Was this a human baby? How did it get aboard the ship? And into that- capsule thing? No- it couldn't be human. No humans had set foot aboard this ship. It had to be an alien. But- it looked so much like a human, the resemblance was uncanny. What if it was human? Humans were so rare to find outside of the remaining settlement cells...

WARNING. T-MINUS ONE MINUTE UNTIL FUEL LINE DETONATION. PLEASE EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY.

Snatcher tunes out the message, staring down at this infant from his towering height. For some reason, he couldn't tear his gaze away, his thoughts filled with static.

The baby doesn't cry, despite the loud and stressful environment outside of its pod. Their eyes blink, staring at him with an intelligence he can't place. Sleepy, but waking up, a smile brightens up their little face. A smile. Innocent and genuine. Nobody had looked at him like that in... he didn't know how long.

One of the baby's hands lets go of the hat brim, cooing happily as it reaches for Snatcher. The movement reveals a glint, tucked into the blankets besides the baby.

A key. Large and smooth, the bronze metallic object is nestled next to the child with the same placement and care as the infant themselves.

The vault key!

Snatcher reaches forward, claws extended to take his quarry-

-and is interrupted by that tiny, tiny hand. Little fingers grab ahold of his nearest claw in a strong grip, wrapping around it. The baby giggles, marveling with big eyes at the massive specter's mitt-like digit.

Snatcher is completely frozen solid where he stands. He felt as though he'd been electrocuted - he kept staring at the infant, struggling to reason with his paralyzed brain. Where did this baby come from? And why was it holding his goddamn finger?!

The baby squeals in delight that Snatcher doesn't understand, and hugs the claw to their face.

Against his will, without his knowledge, Snatcher's other hand moves up, reaching forward as though to cup the baby's cheek.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!"

The hazy walls that had been blinding Snatcher to everything around him suddenly come crashing down. Sirens screaming, light burning into his dark hide and weakening his magic. In the doorway stands Leonard, the cat puffed up in shock with a struggling Mustache Girl held by the scruff of her red coat. The Nyakuza is staring at Snatcher with a mix of shock, confusion, and desperation.

Snatcher's stunned expression becomes a snarl. He rips the claw free of the child's grasp - for a split second, the child gives a dismayed burble and frown at the loss of their toy, which he ignores - and snaps the other hand forward to grab the vault key.

"Just getting the key to fulfilling my contract!"

"ARE YOU INSANE?! THIS WHOLE PLACE IS GONNA- HOLY PECKING SHIT IS THAT A BABY?!

"I GUESS?! NOT MY PROBLEM!"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, NOT YOUR PROBLEM?! THAT'S A BABY! YOU CAN'T JUST LEAVE A BABY!!"

"WATCH ME! NOW MOVE OUT OF THE WAY! I'M GETTING IN THAT PECKING VAULT IF IT'S THE LAST THING I-"

All the intruders wince as the intercom blares for the third time, even the struggling Mustache Girl. The baby in the cradle grabs the giant hat and tucks it down over its head.

WARNING. T-MINUS THIRTY SECONDS UNTIL FUEL LINE DETONATION. PLEASE EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY.

Snatcher growls. Abandoning the cradle, the ghost slips past the panicking Leonard and vanishes back down the flooded tunnel. The protests of the cat and Mustache Girl fall on deaf ears as he zips to the vault door in the main room. Where was the goddamn- aha! The lock! Snatcher throws the key inside and turns it. The door itself rumbles and shakes, giant tumblers and clamps on the side beginning to rotate into opened position.

Come on, come on-! He didn't have TIME for this!

Back in the bedroom, Leonard races across the carpet toward the pillow pile, leaping onto the ramp closest to the cradle. He can just make out the baby inside, hidden under blanket and a hat. No time to question it- just had to get this poor thing out of here! Extending one arm, he strains, teeth gritted. The paw waves in the air, claws getting closer- if he could just- hook the edge-!

Peck! He couldn't reach far enough!

Mustache Girl was getting unbearable in his grip, the girl thrashing and demanding.

"Put me down, Meatball! I want to keep exploring!"

"You're just as insane as that talking spaghetti!" Leonard growls, attempting a second time to reach the cradle. He grunts, fur standing on end from the stress. "We have to GET OUT of here!"

"Then why are ya trying to reach a stupid egg thing??"

"IT'S GOT A-"

Leonard stops. All Mu gets is a glance and a gleam in one eye before she's abruptly held out over the gap beyond the ramp.

"Grab it!!" Leonard orders.

"WHAT? WHY?!"

"I CAN'T SWIM IF WE FALL! JUST DO IT, KID!"

Mustache Girl makes an unintelligible sound of protest, but after just one kick in the air, she reaches out as far as her arms can go.

T-Minus 15. 14.

Mu's hand makes contact. Slapping it down on the cradle, she yanks it closer. The smack of her hand lands on the button, which closes the lid to the top with a smooth shnk of metal.

"I GOT IT!" she yells over her shoulder.

"GOOD! WE'RE GETTING OUT OF THIS WRECK!"

Snatcher stands in front of the vault, tail lashing and claws digging at the edges of the door. With all his power as the ruler of Subcon, he can't muster the strength to force it open any faster under these piercing lights. Faster, dammit!

10. 9. 8.

Leonard returns to the main room. His fur and suit are soaked from wading the tunnel. Tucked under one arm is an unruly hooded child, and the other the cradle. He sees Snatcher still at the vault, and yowls up to him in frustration.

"YOU'RE CRAZY!"

"YOU TRY BEING SANE WHEN YOU'RE DEAD! AND I WON'T BE CRAZY WHEN I'M DINING ON SOULS LATER!"

5. 4.

Snatcher shrieks in anger, slamming his fists against the slowly opening vault. No, no! It was too slow!

Leonard doesn't even stop his breakneck pace. He runs with all his might back toward the bridge.

Snatcher turns around. Time slowed to a crawl as he finally processed the situation in full.

3.

His fists clench. Anger and resignation wells in his chest as his golden eyes narrow, glowing golden mouth held in a furious snarl.

They weren't going to reach the bridge in time to get clear.

DAMN IT ALL!

2.

Leonard is knocked off his feet as something smashes into him from the side. He can only make a breathless yowl of surprise as arms the color of midnight wrap around him, Mu, and the cradle.

"HOLD ON TO YOUR FUCKING HAT, FUZZBALL!"

Snatcher's yell is nearly lost in the final blare of the siren as he rockets straight toward the broken window.

1.

tKSSSSSSH

Snatcher smashes through the broken edges of glass, the weakened spiderweb of the translucent barrier shattering out into the sea below. With three passengers in tow, the ghost flies over the darkening water while the sun disappears under the horizon-

kssHSKSKBOOOOOM

The shockwave hits them first.

Compressed air blasts into Snatcher from behind, knocking him sideways in the air and flipping him upside-down. A breathless gasp escapes him as the world turns on its axis. The sea is the sky, inky and churning. The sky is a painted canvas of colors and splotchy purple clouds, stars winking into existence above his head for the first time in centuries. He could almost fancy them mocking him, as he turns end over end in the air, tail whipping behind him like a kite streamer. Two feet to his right tumbles Leonard, the cat's yelling lost to the wind, and to his left tumbles Mustache Girl. She flails in the air, trying to grab hold of the cradle, which flew through the air like a tank mortar being fired.

Before Snatcher can piece out what was happening, or what he could do about it, the explosion itself rocks the water and surrounding reef.

The remaining windows on the downed craft explode outward in a shower of deadly glass. Fire, heat and light blossom from the ship in a sphere with a hundred-foot radius. From the light, dozens of sparkling objects- crystalline, glowing gently in the night- blast out of the wreckage and into the sky in all directions like miniature rockets. Snatcher can only watch as his bounty zooms off into the sky, twinkling out of view.

The swelling bloom of light grows until it catches up with the careening intruders.

Snatcher's scream of agony is the last sound that echoes in their ears as they hit water. Blackness takes over, and they hear nothing more.

-----

...

Cold water laps at Leonard's cheek.

Ugh. Everything ached everywhere.

The water washes up over his cheek again, his mouth scrunching up in discomfort. Eugh- peh! Salt. He tasted raw salt, and- sand.

Moving his hands under his torso, the cat spits out an uncomfortable amount of sand and seawater. Disgusting. His paws dug into the sand around him as he retches up a few more gulps of seawater, and he realized he was on the beach. Forcing himself up into sitting position, the Nyakuza blinks and shakes his head. Ears ringing, he smacks the side of his skull with one paw, forcing seawater out. The smell of barbeque is stronger in the air, more ionized than before.

He's on the beach of Mafia Town. It's nighttime, the moon shining down from partly cloudy skies. The white sand is soft under his paws, and the ocean comes up in small waves to lap at his tail and back. He was soaked with seawater. Did he wash ashore?

Leonard tries to piece together the last thing he can remember.

There was- an explosion. The ship.

He turns around, revulsion shuddering through his body at the feeling of fur and clothes plastered to his skin. He needed to dry off as soon as he could, or his pelt would be sticky for days. But first- taking stock of the situation, and clearing his rattled thoughts. Dizziness wasn't helping. Hopefully he didn't land on his head...

The ship- or what was left of it- sat cracked open over top of the reef where it had crash landed. All the windows were completely emptied of glass, their deadly payload now sparkling on the ocean bottom and the loose planks of the damaged bridge. Buckled outward from the force of the explosion, the deck of the main room hung ajar of the central window pane. One side and part of the top had been blasted open by the detonated fuel line. A charred husk was all that remained of the room filled with mechanical parts, tubes and gears. Leonard could only guess that had once been the engine room.

If they'd tried to escape across the bridge, they might have been incinerated. Snatcher had thrown them all through the window instead-

Leonard sits bolt upright, ears flicking as his golden eyes widen.

The ghost! The damn idiot- risking their lives by fighting with a stupid vault door! Then saving them by grabbing them and smashing a window? What was he thinking? And how was Leonard supposed to feel about this conflicting information? Snatcher's behavior was only making less and less sense as time went on.

Where did he go?

A quick scan of the beach, and Leonard spots a bright red cloak. Mustache Girl. The kid is groaning on the sand, divots and pits in the material indicating she'd bounced like a skipping rock over the shoreline before coming to rest on a shallow pile of the stuff. She sounded alive, and from this distance, Leonard didn't see any sign of injury. She was probably fine. Nestled in the sand a short distance away was the strange capsule. Leonard couldn't deny the twist of worry in his stomach. Would the baby inside be alright? He didn't even get much chance to see them. Was it an alien?

But where was-

Leonard's golden eyes spot a shape drifting on the waves. Listless and unmoving, the midnight purple-black thing floats towards shore. Waves slosh over the half-submerged object, pushing it ever so slowly toward the beach, before pulling it back out again.

Leonard springs to his feet. Sand puffs out behind his paws as he jogs into the waterline. A moment of strong hesitation is overcome by a quick leap into the water. He has to swallow the desperate gut instinct to scramble back out of the waves, knowing full well this was not where he belonged in the world. But he keeps going, until it's up to just under his arms. The limp form of the Subcon terror is within arm's reach. By all accounts, he should be afraid. Common sense told him this creature was more dangerous than anything else the planet had to offer. Not to mention, he was an invincible ghost- it wasn't possible for the Snatcher to die. And yet, for some reason, Leonard felt worry, of all emotions. Maybe because the state of his soul was contingent on this thing being alive(?) or not.

"You better give me my soul back for this, you pecking bastard," Leonard grunts under his breath. He wraps his paws around the nearest arm, and with a mighty oomPH, lifts the ghost by one arm onto his shoulder. Odd- he didn't figure ghosts were supposed to feel this solid. He'd have to interrogate the noodle later. "HOLY god- how are you so heavy?! You need to- urgh- lay off the souls."

Using the water to float most of the weight, Leonard hauls Snatcher all the way back to the waterline. Heaving for breath, he drops the ghost, who lands with a pff of sand. Exhausted, now even more sore than before, Leonard collapses onto the sand and looks up at the stars. Hoo...

Somehow, they survived the explosion.

But now they had another problem. Whatever Snatcher had been after in that vault was just scattered to the heavens, probably around the globe. Snatcher was out cold, and they had a questionable infant in a pod. Where did it even come from? And why was the ghost- soul stealer, murderer, scourge of the cursed wood- playing with it?

...What were they going to do now?

Chapter Text

The odor of wood smoke is the first sensation to tickle Snatcher's senses.

Ugh. Fire. He never liked the smell. Not as hated as burning ice stabbing into his nose, but it reminded him of those pesky fire spirits. Did they come back again? He'd need to teach them a lesson about marching in on his territory - they were never welcome, but they always scuttled back out of the woodwork like cockroaches.

"...nngfrgh... you sorry excuse for- kindling- get OUT of my woods," Snatcher grumbles, and is immediately taken aback by how ragged his voice sounds. Controlling the tenor and volume of his voice was unconscious as a ghost- he didn't need to breathe like mortals, he didn't even have lungs or a diaphragm. Why did he sound like a knife carved up his throat?

"Wow. You really just wake up on the wrong side of the bed all the time, huh?"

...that wasn't the singsong voice of a fire spirit. That was a gruff, aged voice Snatcher was irritated he recognized regardless.

Snatcher slides his arms under his body, feeling the soft dispersal of grains, rather than the rustle of dry grass and dead leaves. Peck. This really wasn't his forest, then. A guttural growl of annoyance burbles out of his spectral body. It sounds pitifully weak. No, he was not weak. He couldn't be weak- he wasn't allowed to be. This had to be some kind of farce... but the explosion, from the ship. That- that must have done it. It would explain why his body felt so heavy and solid. The feeling would pass, but he hated it anyway.

Huffing, the spirit pushes himself off the ground, slithering back into upright position. Ah- he was smaller than usual. Snatcher could tell from how low he was to the ground, nearer to average human height. Yuck. He'd rectify that as soon as he had some of his energy returned. A few hours under the night sky would fix that right up, but for now, he had more shit to deal with. A few blinks, and his unsteady vision stabilizes.

He's on the beach. It's the dead of night, with sparse cloud cover up above and those same cold stars. White sand everywhere, pocked with footfalls from mafia or locals who spent the day at the beach before retiring for the evening. The occasional stray sandal or dislodged sand dollar marked where someone had once been, now inhabited only by trash and other ghosts of civilization. Snatcher was quietly thankful for this - it would be embarrassing for passerby to see him like this, outside of his forest where he had full control. His body was darker than usual, the velvety transparency of his form lost in the seawater and sand flecks stuck to his ectoplasm.

In the immediate vicinity was a campfire, the source of the wood-burning smell and the only bright light in the area. Made of piled driftwood, the logs settled against each other with a hollow clunk. A puff of sparks drifts up into the sky like insects.

Across the fire sits Leonard, his butt planted on a much larger log. Judging by the drag line in the sand, he must have hauled it from the cliffside. His suit, mask, and hat are stripped off and set up on a lean-to of sticks. The pseudo drying rack is placed so close to the fire that Snatcher wonders if a gust of wind would set the clothes ablaze. Temptation burns at him to stoke the pit. For science. Leonard, now much more closely resembling the other Nyakuza cats in the Metro, is wearing only his fur coat - which, no longer confined by a suit or slicked by seawater, has puffed up considerably. The lanky older cat is holding a packet that Snatcher recognizes as a box of cigarettes. It's saturated, the ink running, but the cat is smacking it lightly with one paw and a determined expression anyway. Removing a single cigarette, the cat squeezes it in his paw. A trickle of water patters onto the sand.

On opposite sides of the log lay the sleeping Mustache Girl, wrapped up in her cloak, and the strange egg-shaped pod. The lights on its sides were back on. The cradle pod hovered in place, as before. Snatcher wasn't sure how that baby could have survived the crash - it was probably just paste, in there.

"Evening, sunshine." Leonard grunts as he fixes the cigarette between two claws, and holds it up to the fire to light the end. "About time you-"

Leonard is interrupted by a growl, and a flash of dark claws that snap across the space between them. With a snkt, the cigarette is sliced, the lit half dropping into the sand with a quiet plpf. He stares at his sliced cigarette, his gaze flicking up to glance at the golden eyes and fanged mouth set in an irritated expression. Without saying a word, the cat - making eye contact with the Snatcher in a deadpan look - reaches forward to the fire again, and lights what remains of the cigarette for the second time.

Leonard doesn't get two more seconds before he's met by a spray of sand hitting him square in the face. Eyes and mouth closing on reflex, the cat squints hard with his eyes shut, whiskers twitching as he sticks his tongue out and spits sand off of his lips. Lifting his empty hand to his muzzle, Leonard brushes sand off his face with a snort of indignant surprise.

"What the peck, you asshole?!" Leonard accuses, leaning forward onto his arms so he can shake his fur out like a dog. "Why'd you throw sand at me?!"

"I hate the smell of smoke. No smoking around me. Or ANYONE, really. Don't you know that's rude?"

"You're a ghost, you don't have lungs to worry about. And you just put out our campfire, I hope you're happy." Leonard growls, brushing as much sand as he could out of his arm fur.

Snatcher, however, just grins wide and smug.

"Sure am, furball! Because now I can do this!"

Snatcher clacks two of his claws together in a snap. In a dramatic fwOOSH, purple flames erupt from the sand-flecked logs of the driftwood fire. The tongues of violet lick at the wood, but produce no smoke or charred odor.

"My magic fire is MUCH better. It doesn't smell like roasting fish, for one - though I guess to you, that wouldn't be a bonus. I'm robbing you of natural cologne. HAH."

Leonard only meets the expression with an irritated look, resting one leg on his seat and tail flicking in the sand.

Snatcher waves one finger in a scolding manner as he clucks his tongue.

"I should also point out, by ignoring the presence of that sleeping brat next to you, you're choosing to fill her lungs with smoke! For shame, Lenny. I don't care about her, but my that sure says something about you, doesn't it?"

Despite the cheerful words, the tone is scathingly sarcastic. Leonard bristles in defensive response, but his ears flatten as he looks toward Mustache Girl. His eyes roll, then close with a heavy sigh. The cat flicks his sandy cigarette butt into the magic fire and leans back onto his forearms.

"Fine. You're right- I'm not going to do that to a kid. But whether or not you tolerate smoking aside, I think it's about time we talked and laid out some cards on the table. Shall we?"

Snatcher's mockingly cheerful mood dissipates. The ghost's smirk falls into a suspicious glare, his arms folding. This was an act of seizing control of the situation from him, and he didn't like it. Leonard didn't care.

"First of all, I pulled your body out of the ocean, so I'm calling it even on that life debt from before."

"Whoa whoa whoa, Fuzzy, you don't just get to call off a life debt because you pulled me out of seawater," Snatcher interrupts with a sneer, resting his cheek on one hand and drumming claws on his face. "In case you're a hypocrite, as well, you are fully aware I'm a ghost! I can't die a second time, you simpleton. I don't need you for anything. Did you forget? You're disposable."

"See, it's that kind of lying that I'd like to get out of the picture." Leonard points a claw at Snatcher, quirking one brow. "Since we're on the subject of hypocrites."

Snatcher is taken aback, his grin turning to shock. A half second passes before his neck ruff stands on end, bristling with anger as he rears up in a stance of intimidation.

"How DARE you talk like that to me? I'm hurt, Lenny! Positively injured - that you think anything you say can possibly make me feel BAD about that! SURPRISE! I'M EVIL! That's not news, Sherlock Fishbones. In fact, I could kill you right here and now! I already have your soul, it'd be a cinch."

To Snatcher's dismay, the cat is unfazed. Leonard only continues to stare back, meeting the hostile glare of the ghost with a flat look.

"You won't."

Ohoho, this had to be good.

"And what makes you so confident?" Snatcher hisses, leaning in close to bare his sharp teeth in a malevolent grin. The lavender flames illuminate his visage from beneath, turning the cartoonish smile in a ghastly visage. "Go on, spit it out! I don't like waiting."

Leonard stares the deathmask of Snatcher's face right in the eye. Unwavering, the Nyakuza shows only a slight twitch to one eye. The bushy fur on his tail gives away the fear he's just managing to keep off of his face.

"Because you're greedy," the cat states. "I've met plenty of your kind when I was a cop in the Metro. You have my soul, sure- but you're not going to settle for that when there's a potential dozen waiting for you in exchange. You want more."

Snatcher pulls back into a coiled position. He watches Leonard with intensity, eyes narrowed.

"Damn, just read me like a book, huh? You're a sharp tool in the shed, Lenny - if you use soap as your whetstone. I told you that myself, in case it slipped your mind. AGAIN. Don't try to get cute with wordplay by using MY OWN WORDS, Lenny - I'm a LAWYER, that's my forte. I fail to see how that makes me a hypocrite, as you so rudely accuse."

"Oh yeah? I can think of several instances. You saved me from drowning in the ocean. On that bridge, you said you needed me."

Snatcher pulls up short, his smirk frozen on his face.

...peck.

Ohhhh Snatcher hated the little grin that curled up on Leonard's muzzle as the ghost hesitated just a moment too long.

"I'm sure you imagined that, in your completely unjustified mortal terror of a watery grave. Drowning isn't even that bad, pussycat."

"Nnnnoooo, I don't think I did." Leonard shifts his posture so he's resting one elbow on his opposite knee. Snatcher could feel his frustration bubble already. Wherever Leonard was going with this, Snatcher knew he wasn't going to like it. "You told me yourself that you needed me to be your 'shadow taxi' around town, and that I would get you across that bridge. You DID need me for some reason, you just don't want to admit it."

"Have you ever heard the term laziness? Also known as committing the sin of Sloth - I don't like putting effort into things when my energy is better spent elsewhere. Having you carry me around was convenient! For me. How does it feel, being used as a coachman for a ghost? HAHA!"

"It's the light isn't it?"

Yet again, Snatcher is pulled up short with a glowing grin frozen on his face.

Leonard huffs out his nostrils, flicking a piece of sand off one shoulder.

"Thought so."

A snarl twists Snatcher's face.

"And what power do you think that gives you, over me, even if you WERE right? That's right- nothing. Don't kid yourself. You're just a-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm disposable, I'm a dumb mortal, I get it. Can you stop with the posturing already, and chill the peck out? I'm not going to pull one over on you. Neither of us are in good shape for a scrap, as much as you want to act the opposite. I'm trying to establish an understanding here because we're BOTH going to be in deep shit for what happened in that pecking spaceship. Ok?"

...for once in his unlife, Snatcher backs down, his fluff ruff slowly falling flat against his neck. Sniffing once in derision, Snatcher folds his arms.

"....I'm listening."

Leonard lets out an exhale. The cat rubs his paws on both sides of his face before they drop.

"What were you after in that vault?"

Snatcher snorts. "The contents, fool. They were made of crystal, shaped like hourglasses, and glowed. Plenty for little miss Empress to sink her claws into, in exchange for my agreed-upon souls. Probably to make into necklaces or gaudy oversized rings."

"You endangered all three of us for some hourglasses?"

"I believe I've made it abundantly clear that your life means less to me than a dirty sock without its matching pair. I don't even WEAR socks!" Snatcher wiggles the end of his tail to make a point, before coiling it up under him. "They were in a vault, with a key hidden in a cradle! I think that counts as being considered valuable."

"Why didn't you just float the hourglasses out?"

Silence.

"...is it because they glow?"

Snatcher throws his arms up in exasperation.

"What is this, 20 Questions?"

"Yes, if that's what it takes to finally get some goddamn answers out of you, Your Cageyness."

Snatcher lets out a short bark of a laugh.

"Oh my, getting cheeky now, Lenny? Your recklessness is still as foolish and amusing as ever." The final words of the sentence curl with his mouth in a sneer of disgust. "Since you're so insistent on poking into my business, and quite frankly I feel like seal vomit right now, I'll give you one tidbit. Consider it another favor you owe me - and in return, you can't ever speak a word of it beyond this campfire, because if you do, I'll hunt you like a dog. Yes, as you so aptly put it-" Snatcher lifts both hands to do finger quotes with a mocking singsong tone '"-it's because they glow.' Light that isn't produced by yours truly bothers me, being a ghostly shadow and all that. So before you ask, NO, I couldn't just pull the hourglass things through the vault door. Because they glow- I mean really."

Leonard twitches his nose, staring into the dancing purple campfire. Pensive, he thumbs his chin with one paw.

"So, does that mean you were hiding in my shadow the whole time because you hate sunlight? That's why you really put out the campfire, isn't it?"

Snatcher makes a dramatic, exasperated groan, falling back onto his own coiled tail as if it were a beanbag chair. The movement earns a wince. Snatcher does his best to hide his discomfort - that blast of light had wreaked havoc on his form, and his taxi didn't need to know that.

"I don't have to play this stupid game with you! I am not under contractual obligations to tell you jack squat. So I'm not going to! Be grateful I even said one word. Now DROP IT."

A forceful sigh from Leonard, as the cat pinches the bridge of his nose between thumb and foreclaw. Snatcher had to stifle another laugh. The cat had some nerve, getting annoyed with him! The Soul Snatcher of Subcon Forest! It was quite an honor to get one's soul taken by the likes of him.

"Alright, well, I guess I should have expected that." Leonard's tone is reminiscent of a parent scolding a toddler tantrum, and Snatcher isn't keen on that. "Fact remains we're still utterly fucked if we go back to Empress emptypawed."

"You mean YOU will be. I'm invincible, fuzzball!" Snatcher sings, quiet pleased with himself. "And who said we're going back emptyhanded?"

"Um, I don't see any magical space hourglasses around, do you?"

Snatcher rolls his eyes, though it's difficult to tell with his lack of discernible pupils. "Then we'll FIND one. And there's always the backup plan."

Leonard follow's Snatcher's gaze... over to the hovering pod.

"You- you'd give Empress a baby? Are you out of your mind?"

"Why not? It's worthless to me, but priceless in the right hands! A kid from outer space- sounds like quite the rarity, even if not the kind she's looking for."

"You'd sell a kid?!" Leonard stands from the log and puts himself between Snatcher and the pod, tail puffed. "No!"

Snatcher just smirks. It's unsettling, and Snatcher can see Leonard tense.

"You and I both know you're not capable of stopping me, Lenny."

The shiver that runs from the cat's head to his feet gives Snatcher a great deal of satisfaction. If he could still instill terror even like this, there was hope for salvaging his reputation from this entire mess. He was NOT going back to Subcon with just one measly cat soul.

Leonard clears his throat, straightening his posture and forcing his ears to stand up.

"B-besides, we don't even know if it's actually an alien. It sure looked human."

"It was in a crashed spaceship in a hovering cradle, I think that's a fair enough assumption to make."

"Well- it- it might not have even survived the crash here on the beach! That was quite a landing, and I checked earlier, it wasn't looking good."

Okay, now Snatcher can smell an obvious lie in Leonard's tone and behavior. He was a lawyer, it was in his ghostly blood. Snatcher's smirk drops into a frown as he watches Leonard stand, arms held out in front of the hovering cradle. The toothy smile on the cat's muzzle looks oh so fake. Snatcher drifts across the campfire and shoves the cat aside, earning a yelp of protest from Leonard as he's sent tumbling back onto his ass in the sand. Shadowy claws hunt for the button he'd pressed before - once he's found the depression in the metal, he pushes it and lets the top slide open.

Sure enough, the baby is still inside the cradle. And not, as Leonard claimed, perished from the crash. No, the child is very much alive, and surprisingly not a paste smeared on the inside of the pod.

...huh. Sturdy child.

The baby inside has the hat tucked down overtop of its head, and doesn't move it at first. A yawn emanates from somewhere underneath the brim. Pudgy fingers emerge and grab at the hat, haphazardly lifting it away from the small face of the child from before. They blink a few times, stretching the little arms with a puff of breath. Their free hand moves to their mouth where they suck on their thumb for a moment- then their bleary eyes move up, and spot Snatcher. Instantly, the tired attitude changes. The baby lights up, smiling as they let out a quiet peal of happiness. Their nearest arm reaches for the ghost.

Snatcher's intense stare shifts into disgust, pulling back just enough that the baby couldn't grab his face. Babies. Gross.

"You're a REALLY bad liar, Lenny," Snatcher says, giving Leonard a glance over one shoulder with a squinted eye. "This little runt survived a crash from space, a few hundred feet wouldn't-"

The ghost is interrupted by a tiny hand grabbing a fistful of his neck ruff, the grip tightening into a vice.

Snatcher releases a wordless yell as he lurches back from the cradle. To his horror, the baby comes with him. Both hands are now wrapped tight around the fluff at the base of his neck. Startled, Snatcher zips back and forth around the campsite and tries to dislodge the child. The baby laughs as it swings with the movement, delighting greatly in this sudden game.

"LET GO! EW! GET YOUR STICKY SLOBBER HANDS OFF ME! NGAHH!

Leonard bristles and races forward with a horrified meow as Snatcher swipes and bats with his hands in an attempt to shove the baby off of him.

"DON'T DO THAT, YOU'RE GONNA HURT IT!"

"THIS IS YOUR FAULT FOR LYING TO ME! GET THIS LITTLE PARASITE OFF OF ME!"

"STOP SPINNING IN CIRCLES! JUST STAND STILL! GOD!"

Snatcher comes to a halt. Every inch of his rigid posture screams discomfort, his face contorted with disgust at the baby clinging to his neck. What, it was having fun doing this!? He didn't want their gross baby hands anywhere near him, much less buried in his neck ruff!

"THANK you," Leonard says with a shortness to his words. Huffing, he reaches up with both paws to carefully grab the infant by the underarms. "I'll put it back in the- nyEOOWW-!!"

The baby, seeing the paws coming for them, had turned around and bit down on the closest paw. Hard.

The Nyakuza leaps back with a yowl of pain, wrenching his paw free and shaking it with a muffled curse.

He jumps around and shakes his paw.

"gfnFG- ssshhhh- the kid has sharp teeth! OW!"

Snatcher's brows furrow, and he looks down in time to see the kid stick its tongue out in Leonard's direction. Sure enough, the baby has pointed teeth. That cements his assumption this thing was definitely an alien - human babies did not have teeth like that. They're small and dull, most likely baby teeth to be replaced by larger, sharper incisors at a later date... if aliens can have baby teeth. Heh. Little bugger chomped Lenny real good. Already, this creature was turning into a small harbinger of chaos. It's almost cute... no! No it wasn't! Get a hold of yourself!

Snatcher snorts and raises his arms again, hesitating as he mimics the gesture Leonard had been making. How was he supposed to do this? He'd hold off on the claws for now- he didn't want to carve it like holiday ham, yet. With as much hesitation as if he were touching slime, the purple ghost loops his fingers under the baby's arms, and pulls away with as much might he can force without crushing the alien child like a tin can. It takes some doing, but the centimeters between Snatcher and the baby grow to inches, then a foot. The baby struggles to keep their grip on his mane, only letting go once they've reached the end of the strands, the fluff snapping free.

Finally. Snatcher lets out a sigh of relief, giving the child a distasteful expression as he turns it upside-down in punishment for its transgressions.

Unfortunately, this only earns a giggle and a 'whEE!' as the baby wiggles some more.

Leonard runs forward and hesitates, seeing the baby's teeth again as it laughs.

"Don't hold it like that! Haven't you ever held a child before?!"

Snatcher shoots Leonard an incredulous glance, extending his arms so the baby is held as far away from his person as possible.

"You think I have any experience or care for children? I suppose you're an expert on alien babies!"

"I know you DON'T hold kittens upside-down!"

"You had kids? A cat gang member? HA! You're just a shining example of a parent, aren't you?"

The baby whines, waving their hands at Snatcher and trying to grab onto his claws now.

"No, NO. No more touching!" Irritated, Snatcher drifts back over to the cradle and drops the baby inside, backing up right away so the child couldn't grab him a second time. Curling his lip over one fang, the ghost brushes out the tangles in his mane where the baby had grabbed ahold of it, huffing. "Don't ever do that again, you little peck. Disgusting."

The baby, who had been dropped backwards into the cradle, blinks upward from where their head rests at the foot of the blankets. With a squirm and a wriggle, they crawl until they turn around, reaching for their hat. They burble between their lips as they grab the soft attire and clutch it like a stuffed toy.

Leonard exhales and sits back down on his log. He works his paws down his tail to smooth out the puffed fur.

"Thank god you didn't hurt it. How can you be so flippant with babies?"

Snatcher finishes combing his ruff and puts his claws on his hips.

"I don't have a good history with babies or interest in childrearing. You do the math, Lenny."

"And for your information," Leonard dusts the last bits of sand off his tail, then drops it back behind him, "I didn't have kits. I kittensat for friends."

"Did my previous message about life stories not get through loud and clear the first time?" Snatcher grumbles. "I DON'T CARE. All that's important right now is getting some of those hourglass things so I can leave this miserable sand pile and get home."

"mmgfmfrhgh... you're both WAY too loud, you know that?"

Snatcher and Leonard pivot towards the opposite side of the log.

Mustache Girl sits up from the sand dune, yawning and rubbing her eyes. She shoots them both a dirty look.

"How did we end up on the beach? One of you two must have REALLY screwed something up in that ship."

"Oooohohoho, don't even start down this path, little girl," Snatcher hisses. "YOU were the one recklessly smashing buttons."

"So what if I was?" Mu huffs. "The whole ship was dead, it wouldn't do a thing. And what about all that glittery junk that flew out in the explosion? Was that what you were lookin' for, Spooky Noodle?"

"Snatch. Er."

"Whatever."

Snatcher has to work to swallow a snarl, his intense drive to murder resurfacing. This little brat was so disrespectful! Should have left them in the spaceship. Why did he even bother scooping her up? It didn't make any sense. He definitely wouldn't have felt any guilt if she blew up with the wreck.

"Regardless," Mustache Girl continues, "I saw where those glittery thingies went! Some of them landed in town - they can't be hard to find, especially at night."

A burble and yelp sounded from the right. The baby sits up, shaking their giant hat up into the air a couple times. Plopping the hat back down, they wave one hand and point toward the sky. Snatcher watches the baby with confusion. Was it- gesturing for them to look up? No, babies were not capable of complex thought. Except, this was an alien. None of them really knew how smart this.... weirdly humanoid alien species could be, even as an infant.

All those around the campfire follow the gesture, heads craning back. The hand was pointing toward the platform hovering on the ever-spewing volcanic geyser.

"That's- the Mafia HQ?" Mu says, before gasping. "No wait- they're right! Anything shiny that would have landed in town would have definitely attracted the attention of the Mafia Boss. He sends collection teams to every house in the city and orders them to gather all pons and shiny things they find to hoard in their tacky throne room. If the Mafia find some of those sparklies, they'll definitely take them up there. So here's the plan! Spooky Noodle, you're going to take me and Meatball up to HQ, we break in, and kill the Mafia Boss! And you can collect your shinies back, or whatever they are."

Leonard and Snatcher both glance between Mustache Girl and the baby in the crib, who looks- proud of itself? What even was this alien child? It wasn't possible that the infant knew where the hourglasses flew off to. It had been shut up in the cradle!

"...it- that was coincidence, right?" Leonard asks to open air. Snatcher can tell the cat isn't sure if he wants a reply.

"Lucky guess," Snatcher says with a sniff, looking out toward the beach. "Your stupid pajama gang problems can wait, kiddo. I'm only here for those crystal hourglasses, so I can LEAVE and enjoy the peace and quiet of solitude."

"Honestly, boys are so dumb," Mustache Girl sighs, sauntering over to the cradle with a dramatic sigh. She leans on the edge of the cradle, the baby inside looking up at her with a peculiar expression. "This lil kid gets it, and you won't listen! Seriously, you should just leave this to us girls, then. I'm sure this new recruit to the rebellion will be amazing at stuffing Mafia jam into jars!"

"Girl?" Leonard repeats. "What makes you think they're a girl?"

Mustache Girl puffs her cheeks, indignant. "I just know! It's a girl thing, you wouldn't understand, kittycat."

"FINE, it's a girl!" Snatcher is well and truly irritated with how long they've spent bickering already. "Doesn't matter in the end anyway. We're wasting time!"

"Spooky Noodle is right. The sooner we get into the HQ, the faster the Mafia get taken down! I need to prepare a lot of jars for this."

Resigned, Leonard stands up and starts gathering his clothes from the drying rack. The ratty old police cap is returned to his head with a quick brush of sand.

"The fastest way up there is by teleporting. You can do that, right Snatcher?"

Snatcher pinches the bridge of his nonexistent nose between two claws, giving Leonard a smile that is far from friendly.

"NO." Snatcher gestures to himself, his spectral form solidified and darkened like a bruise. "You see this? You see how corporeal I look right now, Lenny? I'm not teleporting anyone for at least several hours. I'm going to need a lot more time in the dark to feel like myself again. Don't forget who the taxi is in this situation. And I am NOT providing free transportation services to you, Mustache Brat."

"Don't worry, we don't need to magically poof up there!" Mustache Girl crows.

Snatcher definitely doesn't like how cocky and self-important Mu gets as she puffs her chest with her next words.

"I've got an in."

Chapter Text

"No."

"Come onnnnn, you've gotta!"

"I refuse to debase myself like this, brat."

"It's the only way in, since they clogged up the air vent! It'd be easier if you could just noodle-shift into one of the Mafia and walk us in, y'know."

"I already explained I can't do that right now!"

"Then-??"

Snatcher, tail lashing against the brick of the apartment complex roof, curls his lip and rumbles a snarl as he folds his arms. The ruff around his neck stands on end with his agitation. His glowing gold eyes bore into the object Mustache Girl held up, hatred sizzling from every cell of his ghostly form.

With a snap of one limb, he snags the clothes hanger from Mustache Girl and drifts off in a sulk.

Leonard, about five feet over to the right, is exchanging his usual suit and tie for a pinstriped uniform- that in reality, was far too large for him and dragged somewhat on the ground. Mu had insisted the Mafia would be too stupid to notice. Leonard wasn't convinced.

"When you said you had an 'in', this isn't exactly what I had in mind," the cat says, quirking a brow in Mu's direction. Mu only gives him a passing glance from her smug, triumphant pose. "I thought you were referring to a man on the inside, or perhaps a secret entrance."

"Weren't you listening, Meatball?" Mu grouses, pouting. "I just said the air vent got clogged up. The Mafia are terrible cooks, but they blocked up my only entrance with an entire roast chicken last week! I don't even know how they got it up there- exploded up the metal tube thing, maybe? The ones they have on stoves."

"You mean a fume hood?" Leonard pulls up a sagging arm sleeve of the massive suit for the third time.

"Yeah, that thing. Oh stop fretting over the disguise, Meatball! You look fine."

"My name is Leonard," Leonard says with a sigh. "Why are the both of you so into nicknames?"

"Because that's not an intimidating sidekick name at all! Leonard. Look out for Leonard! It just doesn't work." Mu throws up her arms.

"And Meatball is better somehow? Where did you even get that from?"

"It just came to me! Genius, right?"

Leonard rolls his eyes as he shuffles to the hovering crib to check on the baby.

The little girl(?) in the pod blinks up at him, burbling quietly into one hand as they suck on their thumb. The other hand is clutched to the brim of their giant hat, which they seemed very reluctant to part from. Leonard couldn't help but wonder. Was it a gift from a parent? A family friend? Did aliens have family units like the ones they did on Earth, or were parents just not a thing for that culture? Perhaps robots and technology were responsible for raising children. It would explain why there were no bodies or skeletons inside the ship...

Leonard lifts a paw, twiddling a finger over the baby's face.

The baby squints, watching the digit for a few seconds, before removing the thumb from their mouth and waving the hand around. They grip onto the finger with a surprising amount of strength and push the hand away. Instead of playing with Leonard's hand, the baby leans in the crib - trying to see around him?

Well. That wasn't expected, either.

Shrugging, Leonard straightens and fixes his disguise yet again.

"-and once we get them in jars, you and Spooky Noodle can help carry them back down into my secret base-"

Oh. Mustache Girl was still talking. To tell the truth, Leonard had zoned it out - and would continue to do so at this rate if he didn't get her back on track.

"Sorry," he interrupts, holding up his paws. His arms are almost completely engulfed by the giant sleeves. "I think I missed a vital step in your plan, kid. How do you plan to get us up that?"

Mu follows Leonard's pointing sleeve, the both of them craning their necks back. Over their heads spewed the monstrous volcano geyser. The roar of thundering water was so loud it hurt to focus on. The thick and powerful stream continued unbidden and unbroken into the base of the floating concrete platform above.

"Yes, how DO you plan to get your miserable meat suits up that geyser? This I have to see."

Leonard and Mu drop their gazes back to the opposite corner of the rooftop. The Nyakuza almost immediately drops his jaw, eyebrows flying up his face. Mu has to cover her mouth to stop from letting loose a laugh.

Snatcher had returned, and he was wearing his own disguise- a pinstripe suit matching Leonard's oversized garb. Except, on the rather imposing form of Snatcher, the suit was more appropriately sized. If anything, it actually fit him- in the torso. With his lanky noodle arms snaking out a good deal longer than the fabric, the coat resembled a T-shirt rather than a pressed suit. His shadowy ruff puffed out the neck of the coat, framing his round head and furious glare. Snatcher was not wearing the pants. In fact, he lobbed them straight into Mustache Girl's face.

"I will not be wearing these, thank you. I can get around just fine without legs - and if you think THIS amount of effort will fool those buffoons, then I can't imagine pants will help their case. And so help me god, if either one of you even THINK about pulling out a camera even ONCE during this infiltration, I will end you."

click

...Snatcher slowly turns his head over towards the walking clothes pile that was Leonard.

The cat was holding a flat rectangular box in one paw. He fiddled with the object in silent contemplation, one ear twitching. Snatcher was certain the cat was smiling under that facemask of his.

"Really eager for me to eat that soul of yours, I see?" Snatcher hisses, his fur bristling.

"Mhm," Leonard hums, putting the rectangle away back in- wherever his pockets were underneath that massive draping tent of a suit.

Snatcher growls. How DARE Leonard be so dismissive of his threat?! He held that cat's life literally in his claws! If he felt like it, he could gobble it down right now. Grrrgrgh. This whole endeavor better be worth this humiliation.

The baby in the floating crib burbles and flaps a hand in the air the moment they spot the pissed-off noodle. Giggling in glee, the toddler makes another grabby motion in his direction. The intent was clear that she wanted Snatcher to come closer.

Was the infant laughing at him? Snatcher throws a hiss in her direction. The alien demonstrates a profound inability to be fazed.

"YOU aren't allowed to enjoy this," Snatcher growls, tail whipping before he rounds on Mustache Girl. "So, the plan, brat? I'm getting impatient."

Mustache Girl simply answers by skipping over to some sort of... overturned metal object. The construction is overall rather spherical, with a trumpet end on one side that looks blown apart. The ghost needs a moment to dig through his booksmarts before Snatcher recognizes it as some sort of cannon. Why on earth would this isolated islet need a cannon? The only regular invasions they could expect in this forgotten place would be an overpopulation of shore crabs.

"Alright, my sidekicks! Time to go storm Mafia HQ!" Mu happily smacks the side of the red-painted cannon with one hand. "Hop right in!"

Leonard and Snatcher stare for a hot second before Snatcher lets out a boisterous laugh.

"HAHAHAHAHA!! That's a good one, kiddo."

When Mu makes no response short of a pout, Snatcher's smirk twitches. No, she couldn't be serious.

"Come on! It's the only way up!"

"You- you're joking, right?" Leonard says, eyeing the cannon with trepidation. "You want us to get into the barrel and blast ourselves up there?"

"Why not?? It's perfectly safe!" Mu huffs as she clambers up the side, plopping into the barrel of the massive red cannon. The neck of the damaged barrel is so wide and the chamber so large that she vanishes, her voice coming out with a slight echo. "The Mafia do it all the time to get up top - I've seen it loads!"

Leonard just throws Snatcher a look caught somewhere between skepticism, and begging for an out.

To his horror, the only look he gets in return is a smug grin. The ghost just lifts a hand and waves it, gesturing for Leonard to go on ahead.

"No thanks, brat. I think I'll get up there my own way."

"And what way is that?" Leonard says, ears flattening.

"Flying - I'm a ghost, idiot! See you both up top!"

"Wait- what about the baby?!"

"I don't care, leave it here or something. If someone comes by and finds it, I'll just steal their soul for taking my bounty!"

Cackling, the specter coils his lengthy body into a spring, uncoiling and zooming straight up into the air. Snatcher throws a sassy wave and a wink down at the landbound mortals before disappearing over the lip of the massive concrete platform.

Leonard huffs, glowering at the platform even though Snatcher was not within sight. If he could do that all along, why did the soul-stealer insist on being carried everywhere by someone else's shadow? He really was lazy.

And Snatcher had abandoned him and Mustache Girl with the only option remaining- the cannon.

"Hurry up, Meatball!" A small hand pops out of the top, patting the edge and producing a faint tongg of metal before disappearing inside. "We've only got so much time before the Boss's cooking show is over, and he won't be distracted anymore."

Groaning, the cat shuffles with reluctance toward the cracked red barrel of the cannon. The baby in the cradle scrunches their face up in a pout as Snatcher disappears yet again, clutching their hat brim to their front. Leonard carefully closes and scoops up the hovering cradle - he wasn't eager to feel sharp teeth bite his paw again, but no way in hell was he just going to leave the baby on a rooftop. Who knows what could happen to them up here all alone? Leonard questions the logic and legitimacy of a mafia boss owning and operating a culinary television special, along with his own sanity as he climbs into a ballistic projectile launcher without armor.

Mustache Girl yelps and flails a hand up in the air as one of Leonard's paws smushes against her cheek.

"Watch it, Meatball!! That's my face!"

"Sorry."

Leonard grunts, shifting his lanky limbs so he can fold himself into the space without cramping or stepping on Mu. This quickly proves rather impossible. The cannon was not built to hold more than one person, even if one were a small child and the other a rail-thin cat. Clutching the sealed cradle to his chest only made the fit even closer. The large ovoid container took up a good deal of space, pressed up against their sides and stomachs. Leonard could only hope the cannon blast didn't damage it - the baby survived being ejected out of a detonating spaceship, this should be fine. He hoped. The inside of the cannon felt very dirty, as though it hadn't been cleaned in years. Grimy texture and sand grains under his feet didn't make him feel better about this plan of action.

"Figures he'd drop us like sacks of potatoes," Leonard grumbles, his voice now also pitched up in an echo within the chamber. "Are you sure this cannon isn't going to singe us alive or turn us into flying chunks?"

"Only if you count us being alive and whole as one big chunk each!"

"How reassuring," Leonard groans. "How are we even going to fire this thing if we're both inside?"

"With a match, silly!"

Mustache Girl produces a small stick of tinder from her pocket, striking it against the inside of the metal barrel. The pop of the phosphorus igniting echoes in the space. The sound causes his sensitive ears to flick- and the tiny light source illuminates the inside of the cannon.

Now, Leonard can make out the blackened stains that coat the interior of the barrel. Blast marks from hundreds of detonations mar the smooth metal walls, and the bottom is covered by a thick layer of black gravelly dust.

Leonard blanches as he realizes what they're standing in.

Mustache Girl lets go of the matchstick.

"NO-!" Leonard yells, lunging for it-

-----

Snatcher chuckled to himself as he drifted up into the air, waving goodbye to the mortals he abandoned on the rooftop. Ha. Even with his more powerful abilities currently on recharge, flying was still effortless. No way was he cramming himself into a cannon with a puffy street cat and a child steeped in hubris. He'd stooped plenty low already, humoring her plan to enter in disguise.

The ghost zips over the lip of the Mafia's hovering base, settling near the edge as he waits for his entourage. He could easily scope out the situation on his own, but he wasn't about to go in without his meat shields. That, and the mustached kid had infiltrated this place before - squeezing her knowledge of the layout out of her would save them precious time.

Hundreds of feet over the island town, Snatcher enjoys the rare moment of peace. The pervasive darkness of the night was seeping into his shadowy body, healing the damage from the explosion of light. While he sat alone on the platform, the ghost looked up at the moonlit sky, pondering in the silence.

Well. Near silence. The adjacent building was pumping out an ungodly amount of rambunctious foley work. What did the brat say? The Mafia had a cooking show, or something like it. From what Snatcher was hearing, it sounded especially violent. That might actually be a cooking show he'd enjoy! Perhaps that was why the guards he spotted outside the entrance were unresponsive to his arrival - if they hadn't gone deaf long ago, it was unlikely they heard a damn thing past the distant clatter of dishes, clamoring voices, and the tinny hum of a laugh track on playback. A blessing, since Snatcher's natural camouflage against the night sky was ruined by this hideous coat.

...what happened back in that ship?

Snatcher's signature grin falls as he watches the inky waves lap at rocks far below. All he can think of is what transpired inside those unfamiliar halls. Typical victims of his forest snares would be the ones on the chopping block if they couldn't measure up to his laundry list of jobs - now HIS credibility was on the line, not some mortal chump's neck. The instances where mortals were gutsy enough to approach him for a deal were few and far between, and the lopsided deals had been kept every single time... on his end. But for the first time, he'd made a mistake. He lost control of himself for a crucial moment. Something he could never allow himself to do in his position. He had the key in his claws, right in front of him! Then he... froze. He doesn't quite understand why, or what came over him. Something about the child grabbing his hand had petrified him on the spot, leaving him unable to complete his mission until he was snapped free of the trance by the cat screaming. Did the alien have mind powers or something? That could be problematic. It had been awfully grabby towards him, as well, and demonstrated alarming intelligence for an infant of... however old it was for whatever species they were. Not human. He had to impress that upon himself. Being a ghost, he was immune to all mortal weapons, but anything alien was far removed from his playbook of understanding. He'd have to take caution from here on out. No underestimating his quarry. Limit contact with this alien- to a preferable minimum of zero- until he could get the space hourglasses and ship them off with the kid.

...

Hm. Snatcher couldn't put his claw on it, but the smile that brought to his face felt rather shallow. Must still not be feeling well, after he got catapulted across the beach by an explosion.

kRKOOMF

Snatcher is pulled out of his thoughts by the hearty sound of something detonating down below, his awareness of the background cacophony tuning back in.

Before he can lean over the edge to peek, a smoking fireball flies straight up in the air past his face. The object reaches its terminal apex, crashing down on the open concrete.

Smoking, tiny bits of singed fabric drifting on the breeze, the menagerie cannonball falls apart into two individuals and a metal egg. Mustache Girl, whose namesake sports a tiny flame at the tips, stands up without a care and dusts ash off of her clothing. Leonard, who had landed on his side, crumples onto his face on the ground. The Mafia disguise is blackened at the edges and his police cap is smudged with soot. Fur puffed up, it's hard to tell how much was Leonard's natural color and how much was ashen from gunpowder.

Snatcher breaks out into a guffaw of laughter, making a motion of slapping one's knee on a coil of his tail. Leaning down, he gives the downed cat a very wide grin.

"So I guess it's a lie that all cats land on their feet, then? HAHAHAHA."

Leonard doesn't move as a single paw lifts up to point a clawed index finger in Snatcher's direction.

"I'll have you know that is a stereotype, and I'm offended," Leonard grumbles, his muzzle still pressed into the pavement.

"Get up, Meatball, we've got a super spy mission to do." Mu pokes Leonard in the side with a finger, eliciting a groan from the cat. "We can't sneak properly if I have to drag one of my sidekicks around like a slug."

"Give me a break, kid, I just got blasted out of a cannon." Leonard shifts so his head is on the side, his cheek fur squished into his face as he glowers up at Mustache Girl. "You didn't tell me we'd ignite the gunpowder INSIDE the barrel."

"Of course we would! How else would you launch yourself?"

Leonard makes a harsh sigh as he shoves his bruised body off the ground. "And you neglected to tell me this BEFORE you had me wear extra fabric that is FLAMMABLE?"

"Oh calm down, it's not even that much fire."

"...your mustache is smoking."

Mu puffs her cheeks in a pout as she reaches up, pinching the ends of her mustache and fizzling out the little flames. To prove her point further, Mustache Girl reaches forward and pats out the embers still singing Leonard's baggy Mafia suit.

"This isn't even as bad as it gets in the Mafia kitchen - if anything, now you look more authentic!"

"Does this mean I can expect you both to be more on fire once we enter the building?" Snatcher says in glee, hands clasped together in joyful anticipation. "Oh boy, I can't wait~!"

"NO, I am going to be AVOIDING fire, thank you," Leonard grunts, pulling up the baggy sleeves of his coat yet again. "Where did you even get these suits, Mu?"

"From the Mafia guys I sic'd the crows on!"

Leonard pokes a claw through one of the many beak-sized holes in the fabric. Well, that explains that.

"...why don't you have a suit?"

Mustache Girl puts her hands on her hips. "It wouldn't fit me, duh."

"Then why did we bother getting disguises for us?!" Leonard throws up his paws in exasperation.

"I tried it once before!" Mu taps her foot, looking them both over with disapproval. "The Mafia only have one size of suit, and it's like trying to walk around under a bedsheet. They thought I was a sludge beast slinkin' around and hit me with their cooking spoons to make me leave. NOT fun."

"Sounds like a delight to me," Snatcher says with an unhelpful smile. It drops when he turns and notices the floating crib, his amusement faded to annoyance. "Lenny, you brought the kid? I told you to leave it behind!"

"I'm not going to leave a baby on the roof," Leonard hisses, standing up and walking over toward the hovering crib.

Popping the lid, the metal slides open and reveals the bright, excited face of the alien child. Her eyes are wide and she lets out a giggle, clapping her hands as though excited by the impromptu flight through the air. The baby's head turns and casts her gaze about, taking in the sights with an amazed burble.

Sparkling lights on strings enchanted them for a brief moment before their amazement focused on the giant billboard capping the Mafia HQ. The colorful graphic of an octopus, squid, and swordfish made them squeal in delight, babbling nonsensical babytalk as they reached for it. They flap the edge of their massive hat brim in barely contained energy.

Snatcher lashed his tail in disgust, curling his lip. Wonderful. The cat brought a hindrance to the plan.

"Now we have to deal with THAT while sneaking around? Great idea, Lenny, you're a real team player, aren't you?"

Turns out speaking was the worst mistake he could have made, as the baby suddenly realized the ghost was also present. Those blue eyes snapped immediately over to him, so quickly that Snatcher pulled back a few inches in unsettled surprise. He felt even less comfortable as the smile widens, the kid babbling louder and squeezing her fists.

"...for some reason, she really likes you, Spooky Noodle," Mu comments, quirking one eyebrow.

"An unwise decision," Snatcher growls, bristling his mane.

"Pro'lly cuz you look like a big toy, Spooky Noodleman."

"For the last time, my name is SNATCHER."

"You're MY sidekick, I can call you whatever I want cuz I'M the hero that's gonna save Mafia Town!" Mu says with confidence, striking another dramatic pose that only makes Snatcher more irritated.

"You wouldn't be so eager to say that if you knew what I've done to many a past 'hero' in my forest," Snatcher says with a malevolent grin, imagining all the beautiful ways he would torture such a self-righteous little snot. But, patience. For now, she would get to live while she was useful.

"So, here's what we're going to do!" Mustache Girl turns so her back is to the building, smirking as she stands as tall as she can manage when facing her adult company. "You two, in perfect Mafia disguise, are going to walk up to the front door, and smash the guards into pulp!"

"Wait- what?" Leonard says, ears flicking back in confusion. "Just like that?"

"Just like that!" Mu agrees, stars in her eyes. "A beat-down from their own crew! They'll never see it coming! I already have my crate of jam jars ready to go, down on the rooftop for when this is all over. You waltz up to 'em, smack 'em around, and I come in for the finishing blow!"

"That is not stealthy at all," Snatcher growls, frustration bubbling in his chest. "THAT'S what you made us wear these stupid coats, for?? The extent of your espionage is just- to walk up to the front door and hit them?"

This whole thing was a joke! Snatcher knew he shouldn't have put any meager amount of trust into the plans of a nine-year-old. She didn't think this through at all! His own minions could come up with a better plan than that! Based on the disgruntled expression of the cat next to him, Snatcher could tell Leonard was just as disillusioned as he felt at this moment.

"Why don't you just do that yourself, then?" Leonard grouses. "I'm not going to shuffle up in a- a clown suit and volunteer for a beating."

"I'm the most wanted criminal in Mafia Town," Mu explains as though it were the most self-evident statement ever made. "I CAN'T walk up without getting their attention, so I need you guys to distract them for me!"

Leonard smacks a paw against his face, running it down his cheeks and snagging claws on the straps of his facemask. Normally Snatcher would enjoy what was obviously Leonard feeling like a complete moron, but this time, Snatcher was also the fool, so he didn't comment.

...although...

Something Mu said caught Snatcher's attention. An idea began to bubble and coalesce in Snatcher's mind, and a grin slowly twisted up the sides of his ebony cheeks.

"...actually... I've got a better plan," Snatcher says in a low, foreboding tone.

"What?" Mu says, her tone less than pleased. "My plan is perfect!"

"Don't worry, you're still instrumental in it succeeding."

-----

The Mafia stationed to guard the entrance to headquarters were accustomed to long, boring nights sprinkled with the occasional seagull stopping by. Sadly, even the avian visitors had declined over time. The bird food left out by the cooks had gone untouched for weeks, and they couldn't for the life of them fathom why. It was gourmet fare! Seagulls were garbage disposals of the bird world - for them not to ravage the kitchen leftovers perhaps should have been a sign to the Mafia, but no, they merely consigned the birds to have lost taste for the finer things. Alone in the dark of night, they stood watch in resolute determination to protect the headquarters from intruders.

They never expected a pair of their own to come walking up, and in such peculiar shapes...? Bound by some kind of dark rope, a small child in a red hood squirmed, held aloft by one arm from each of the two strange Mafia gripping into the hood of her cape. The smaller of the two was clutching some kind of metal egg in their other arm.

"PUT ME DOWN, RIGHT NOW!" the child yelled, wiggling her legs in a futile effort to break free. The odd dark binding shifts to cover her mouth. The child's furious complaining is muffled, though her struggles continue in vain.

"Special delivery for the Boss," the tall purple-black Mafia says in an oily voice, their eyes and golden grin glowing in the night.

"We caught the Mustache Girl running around town." The shorter Mafia with the tail speaks this time, puffing their chest out. "Thought he'd be happy if we handed her over straight to his- uh- throne."

The Mafia guard closest to the two squints, leaning forward as he looks them over with skepticism.

"Hmmm... Mafia voices sound funny. Mafia don't recognize strange new Mafia with small child."

"Um- ahem." The shorter Mafia coughs, one sleeve engulfing their hand as they bring it up to their definitely not regulation facemask. When they speak again, their tone dips lower, more gruff. "Mafia is new recruit, from city inland. Sorry. Mafia had cold, recently."

"That's too bad," the other guard spoke up, in exactly the same cadence as the first guard. "Mafia hopes strange fluffy Mafia feel better soon. Strange fluffy Mafia has no choice."

The smaller Mafia forces a smile onto their face, one of their large ears twitching in disquiet against the blue cap on their head.

"Hey- police cap and face covering not Mafia uniform! Where did fluffy Mafia find this?" one guard questions.

"I- Mafia stole them, from city police," the short fluffy Mafia says, his voice stilting just a little. "Looks pretty cool, no?"

"...Cap and face covering do look pretty cool," the other guard admits. "And why is tall purple Mafia not wearing pants? Very bad choice when cooking."

"I'm- I mean- Mafia is also new recruit." The shorter fluffy Mafia turns to stare at the tall purple one with utter amazement as a perfect replica of the Mafia voice comes out of that fanged mouth. "And is Casual Friday. Did Mafia not get memo?"

The guards mutter to each other for a few moments.

"No- perhaps Mafia spend too long outside, no one to talk to," the left guard says, looking rather upset. "Maybe Mafia request promotion to file sorting, soon. Nail files for sawing prison bars not going to sort themselves."

"A shame," the purple one says, eyes narrowed as they heft up the squirming child. "Can Mafia go inside? Want to make good impression with Boss."

"Of course- Boss will be very happy with tall newbie's delivery! Go right on in. And fix uniform when around Boss, strange fluffy Mafia newbie."

"Will do," the small fluffy Mafia says, tucking the black plastic visor of the police cap down over their face.

The guards move aside, the sliding double doors opening behind them as if on command. Dim lighting of the interior shows a lush carpeting and tasteful plant decor past the entrance.

"Much obliged," the towering purple Mafia says with an undertone of a hiss, slithering past them into the hallway.

The bound child trails behind, and for a moment, the guards look confused as she is whisked past them. Had the girl been attached to the tall Mafia somehow? But before they could question, both him and his small fluffy comrade vanished beyond the doors. They clamor shut behind them, and the guards take up their post once more.

----

"Oh my pecking god I can't believe that WORKED!" Snatcher sang once the three of them were alone in the hall. Laughter rang out from the ghost as he collapsed against a wall, wiping a tear from one eye. "Mafia Bossman, you really got yourself some quality minions! They're thicker than a bank vault! HAHAHAHAHAAA!"

"Keep it down!" Leonard gasps, having collapsed against his own wall from the stress as he clutched at his uniform. Heaving breaths, he runs a paw through his hair. "You were right, though- I can't believe that worked, holy-..."

Snatcher feels something squirm in his grip. Smirking, he watches as Mustache Girl struggles to escape being wrapped up in his tail, her little arms flailing and trying to push the wrapping off of her. Snatcher contemplated dropping the brat, but he wanted to enjoy her suffering for a little longer.

"You- big- DUMMIES!" she wheezes, pushing the coils apart wide enough to free her head and torso. "That wasn't the plan! You made me look like a- like a weak nerd!"

"That WAS the plan," Snatcher chuckles, doing a fine impression of the Grinch as his smile grows. "And look, you actually served your purpose for once by getting us inside!"

"This is NOT how a hero saves her town from mean invaders! -oOF"

Mustache Girl slides free and lands with a plmpf on the carpet as Snatcher loosens his coiled tail. Winded from hitting the ground after several feet in the air, Mu coughs once and shakes her head. Her cheeks are flushed red with embarrassment, indignant as she fixes her cape and mussed hair.

"I got you inside the damn building without fuss, brat," Snatcher snaps, his fangs clacking together on the last syllable. "Plenty of historical heroes had to do things they didn't want to sneak into enemy territory. You should be GRATEFUL I'm giving you an authentic experience."

Mu stamps her foot in frustration. It's very satisfying for Snatcher to see her struggle to find an argument, and turn up empty.

Snatcher lets out a long exhale of happiness, clasping his hands with a smile.

"That was fun and all, but we should get going. So! Where is this hoard of theirs that the pajama man in charge hides away?"

"It's in the throne room," Mustache Girl says with a huff, folding her arms and looking at the floor. "Backstage of the theater."

"Theater?" Leonard repeats, quizzical. "I thought you said it was a cooking show."

"Yeah, it's a show on a stage and they cook in it! They write really dumb stories and make a lot of junk to act it out with, and it's always about cooking with the boss as the star."

"That-..." Leonard trails off, ears falling. It wasn't worth contesting the logic behind it.

"That sounds worse than the stage production my minions put on last fall," Snatcher says with a sniff of derision. Snapping the end of his tail once, the ghost turns and drifts his way down the corridor. "Enough chitchat. I'm going to get my bounty, and leave this stupid rock."

"And take down the Mafia!" Mustache Girl declares as she jogs after Snatcher. Snatcher ignores her. Mu takes this as agreement, as she keeps talking much to his chagrin. "I'll take down the boss, while you and Meatball knock out the goons!"

"Nobody's taking down anyone, get that through your- whoa."

Snatcher stops once he reaches the end of the entry corridor, blinking twice as he takes in the ambiance. He never expected the inside of the Mafia headquarters to be, of all places, a gambling parlor. Polished mahogany floors with soft carpets were sectioned in thirds - a raised central walkway with pool tables and railings being the main attraction. Slot machines lined the wall of one side, the other taken up by pinball and pachinko. Smooth jazz played through speakers mounted in the corners of the room. Occasional Mafia goons sat in chairs at tables or played the available games, getting frustrated when they didn't score. Snatcher is sure he sees a goon win a game, and plastic tokens come piling out of a slot and onto his lap. The shade found no value in pons and gold; plastic coins felt like a joke whose punchline escaped Snatcher. The scent of charcoal and meat about town was even stronger indoors, thick in the air and hard to tune out. Clinking pans and the sound of something bubbling told him the kitchen was nearby, the laboratory where the Mafia's notorious concoctions they called food were assembled and brewed. Aha- he could see a bar with stools, and beyond it another pair of silver double doors. How the Mafia survived this long without edible fare was truly beyond Snatcher's comprehension. Since he didn't want to go back home smelling like aged turkey basted in dirty dishwater, he'd avoid that room if possible.

It was a surprise how peaceful the atmosphere of the headquarters turned out to be. Those walls must have some damn good insulation.

And across the long central walkway was a massive, lightless hallway. Above the passage glimmered a broken neon sign that read 'THEATER'.

Perfect.

Snatcher floats his way down the carpeted promenade, anticipation boiling in his gut. Ohoooo, he could practically taste those dozen souls-!

A Mafia standing next to the door takes a smooth sliding step. Planting himself directly in Snatcher's path.

The ghost pulls back from barreling straight into the man, his gleeful smile darkening into a fanged sneer.

"Pardon, I'm going in there." Snatcher's words, though spoken in a friendly tone, mock the concept of friendship itself. He was not here to play hopscotch with a jock in clown getup.

The Mafia doesn't move an inch.

"No late entry for showtime in progress, not even for Mafia."

By now, Leonard and Mu had caught up to Snatcher from behind. While not privy to the conversation, the way the ghost's aura was bubbling with dark red energy, and the way the mane around his neck bristled into dangerous spikes, was more than enough to tell them what just happened. Wisely, they chose to wait.

"...excuse me?" Snatcher hisses, his tone low and deadly as his smile cracks its way across his face. The specter's head tilts to one side, like a child examining a fascinating little insect.

"No entry once show starts," the Mafia repeats himself, folding his arms. "Only master chefs with pass allowed."

"I don't think I made myself clear, little man. I. AM GOING. IN THERE!" Snatcher snarled, his face inches away from the Mafia. Sharp fangs accentuate the grin of a predator staring at meat.

The Mafia doesn't move.

"Tall purple Mafia isn't wearing pants. Tall purple Mafia doubly-not allowed in."

"THAT DOES IT!"

A furious snarl rips through Snatcher's form. Talons sharpened and curled, he reaches up and shreds the pinstriped coat off of his body. Tatters of fabric shower to the floor like confetti as the ghost snaps his claws, his form swelling in size until the back of his mane brushes the rafters. The golden smile is gone, replaced by the ire of a shade who's done with morons and nonsensical shit getting in his goddamn way.

"You will step aside, or I devour your soul, AND THROW YOUR BODY TO THE SEAGULLS! I AM NOT. IN. THE MOOD!"

The guard yelps and cowers, a reaction Snatcher had dearly missed. Yes, YES! Finally, delicious fear! How he longed for the taste of terror seasoning the souls of his victims. He would dine like a king by the end of the night.

"Tall Mafia is naked now! Mafia not prepared for such bold fashion choices, or violation of dress code!" the guard cries out, pointing with one hand toward the towering ghost.

Snatcher only snorts once. Ebony claws lash out and snag the goon off of the floor, his mitten fingers tightening around the man's torso and lifting him up to eye level with a harsh yank. It felt like holding an ice cream cone - a sweaty, stripey ice cream cone.

"You idiot. You actually thought I was one of you, just because I was wearing a STRIPED COAT?"

"M-Mafia dress code is inclusive to all members-!"

"FOOOOOOOOOOOOOLLL!" Snatcher bellows into the man's face, fangs bared and close enough to bite down if he so chose. "I'm the one person you should NOT have pissed off tonight! And when I want to go into the damn theater, I go INTO THE DAMN THEATER! You know what? You don't even get a contract! Whoops, you blew your chance to walk away, stew-for-brains! It'll be less satisfying for me, but I don't care - I just want you OUT OF MY WAY!"

Shadows darken and lengthen in the hall as Snatcher squeezes the Mafia in his grasp. Phantoms of thorny vines and ghastly faces materialize from the darkness around Snatcher, vanishing the moment one tries to focus on them. A claw shifts up to position itself under the Mafia's chin, tears of sheer terror running down the man's face as Snatcher prepares to take his head off.

"Wait-! Wait, you don't need to kill him!"

Leonard suddenly leaps forward. Snatcher's barely paying attention - the ghost doesn't even turn his head in the cat's direction, amber eyes still burning with malevolence in unbroken eye contact. He does, however, pause with the claw positioned right over the jugular.

"...and why shouldn't I?"

The hesitant pause is brief, but enough for Snatcher to know his enraged words had spooked the cat. Good. About time Leonard relearnt his place in the food chain.

"Because it's wrong! You can get past without needing to do this!"

A dark chuckle builds, vibrating the air as Snatcher squeezes his fingers tighter around his prey. He can feel his power swell with the darkness of the dim room. Intoxicated by the smell of fear.

"Oh, poor pussycat. You still don't understand, do you?"

Snatcher sweeps his tail so it loops around Leonard's nearest ankle. A swift tug pulls Leonard off his feet with a yowl. The Nyakuza struggles in futility as he hangs upside down, his hat landing on the carpet below.

"I don't HAVE to pop this man's head off like a doll. I'm doing it because I WANT to."

Snatcher lifts the cat so he dangles in the air, helpless and forced to watch.

"Here, Lenny - you get front row seats."

Snatcher's gleeful smile scorches the air in front of him as he reaches up with his other hand. The claws curl around the top of the thrashing Mafia's bald head, preparing to squeeze and twist the skull free like a bottlecap-

"nWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!"

Piercing sound shatters the room. Snatcher's hand flinches back, his aura of menace receding as his evil grin cringes in surprise. Golden eyes shoot wide open in shock, before slamming shut in a painful wince as Snatcher covers the sides of his head with his palms- one still clutching the terrified Mafia. All malice and drive to murder is lost in the brain-rattling noise.

"What the hell is making that sound?!" he demands, tail lashing and releasing Leonard in the process.

Winded, Leonard lands on the carpet with a plop, woozy from blood rushing to his head. A paw flashes out to grab his cap and put it back where it belongs. Next, he pins his ears, paws slamming down on his head as his tail puffs in distress.

"She's cryin'!" Mustache Girl pipes up for the first time, standing near the cradle.

Wincing from the noise, Mu pushes the button to open the top.

Sure enough, the baby inside is wailing. Tear-stained, enormous hat clutched to her front as a safety blanket, the little alien has her mouth wide open in a long, drawn out cry with sharp teeth on full display. She only quiets down to sniffle, sobs bubbling with more tears before she continues the ear wrenching scream. Snatcher is shocked the hovering cradle isn't quaking where it hovers from the sheer volume being produced within.

"Little baby, why are you cryin'??" Mu asks. "Is the little rebel sad she didn't get to see some blood and guts? Don't worry, I'm sad too! We can go smash Mafia goons together later, if that'll make you feel better?"

Sadly, this doesn't appear to have an effect. The alien baby inhales a shaky breath before continuing to wail.

"Hatted baby make Mafia's ears hurt!" the captured guard grunts.

"Agh- make it stop!" Snatcher demands, tail whipping over the carpet in discomfort as his shadowy fluff stands on end. "I feel like my body's going to shake apart!"

The ghost couldn't explain it, but hearing that sound put a deep primal fear in his cold heart. Whatever this thing wanted, Snatcher didn't care - it had to stop. Instincts he thought long dead and buried were urging him to move, to do something. Held back by his dignity, and his own confusion as to why he felt this way, Snatcher flinched every time the baby's cry reached a decibel reserved for small dogs.

Leonard scrambles to his feet, stumbling for a moment as he deals with a headrush. What was wrong with the baby??

...from what he could see, nothing. But that's just how it was with kittens, too- you needed trial and error to figure out the cause of the distress.

"What's wrong?" he says, leaning over the edge of the cradle. He moves to pick the baby up, but spies the sharp teeth again, and doesn't follow through. "You upset, kitten? Do you want something?"

The baby's wail trails off, sniffling some more as her flushed cheeks squish her face into a Bambi-eyed pout.

Snatcher lets his arms drop. The specter's posture sags with sweet reprieve. What a nightmare.

In the brief moment of silence, a faint rumbling noise burbles out of her stomach, causing Leonard's ears to flick forward and focus on it.

"Oh. You're- are you hungry?"

For all intents and purposes, Snatcher had not expected Leonard to get a response.

Everyone in company was shocked when the baby bobbed their head up and down, a clear nod of assent accompanied by another sniffle.

Leonard jumped back, tail fluffed up in shock as his ears pin back.

Mu is staring at the baby with stars in her eyes.

"ooOOH- she's a SUPER smart baby! I knew she had great potential in the rebellion!" Mustache Girl does a celebratory spin on the ground. "You need a code name! How about... Baby Nerd?"

The baby in the cradle frowns, sniffling some more as she gives Mustache Girl a look of distaste.

Leonard turns to Mu with disapproval.

"That's not a name at all," the cat admonishes, earning a raspberry from Mu.

"Well, we can't give her a real name! She might already have one, from whoever her parents are. Code names and nicknames it is!"

"We're not going to name her after an insult," Leonard huffs.

Before Mu can offer a rebuttal, another rumble sounds from the tiny belly of the kid, and the crying starts anew. All three interlopers in the Mafia HQ slap their hands back over their ears.

Snatcher slams one of his fists down onto the nearby bar counter. The wood crunches underneath the blow, splintering in a spray of sawdust. The damaged section collapses to the floor. The bartender flees into the kitchen.

"Who cares what its name is?!" Snatcher roars the minute there's an opening in the crying. "Call it Hat Kid or something - it doesn't matter, because it's a BABY! And it needs to SHUT. UP!"

...

A long moment of silence passes.

...Hesitant, Snatcher opens an eye, followed by the other. Confused, he looks toward the cradle.

Nestled in their blankets, the baby is... quiet. Her pudgy cheeks are set into a frown that- if Snatcher were anybody else on the planet- would have been adorable. But rather than distress, the tearstained expression appeared to be contemplation. Whatever thought they were chewing over in that tiny baby brain of theirs, it must be very engaging.

"Oh thank god she stopped crying," Leonard whines, massaging his head. "My poor ears..."

"At least until it decides it's hungry again," Snatcher glowers. "Our stealth mission is ruined if that toddler keeps going off like an alarm clock."

"Can we get food from the kitchen?" Leonard asks, followed immediately by a cynical laugh from Mustache Girl.

"Hey! Psst! You down there!"

A new voices reaches the ringing ears of all three intruders. Snatcher, Leonard, and Mustache Girl all look up in tandem toward the source - the rafters above their heads. The edge of a wooden maintenance platform has an orange paw curled over the edge. Moments later, a head pops out above it, looking down at the trio with reflective gold eyes. The stranger is wearing a chef's hat, their cheeks puffed with fur tufts and twitching whiskers. Another cat. Sporting a dark orange splotch on one eye, the newcomer sweeps their gaze over the scene below, clicking their tongue.

"Wow. You three've made a right mess of the bar. Hey- did I hear right, someone saying something about bein' hungry?"

"Yes, we have a toddler that won't can it," Snatcher hisses, squinting up at the shadowed rafters. Just who was this new face, and why did they have to act so suspicious? It didn't sit well with the specter.

The cat up above claps their paws, making a quiet mew of joy.

"Oh my, you have a kitten?? Please bring them up! And do it quietly- I can't have the Mafia knowin' I'm hiding up here."

Ah. Another party incognito in these walls.

That explained the shifty behavior. They were avoiding Mafia tax to be inside, Snatcher was sure. He wasn't inclined to trust them just yet, but if they had a solution to the literal problem child, he was going to take it.

Snatcher sneers at the Mafia in his grip. Damn. His taste for violence had gone in the wake of the toddler's screaming.

"...you're a lucky one, little man," Snatcher hisses, the goon giving a wordless whimper in reply. "I don't feel like playing with you anymore. But since I don't want all this bullshit to be for nothing, I'm going to take a little something in exchange for letting you waltz on home."

Once positioned to take the man's head off, Snatcher's left hand lifts to hover over the Mafia's torso. Lightning bridges the gap between ghost appendage and human flesh with a harsh zHAP. The goon gasps, the heavy drawing sensation like a straw pulling the soul from his body. Right as the colorful mirage appears, Snatcher snags it in his grip and stuffs it through a wormhole into his pocket dimension. He opens his fingers, releasing the man to bounce on the ground like a superball.

"Don't ever get in my way again."

The threat is only hissed at the Mafia's back. By the time Snatcher had let him go, the goon was already running away, crying for his mother.

Leonard watches the man run, disturbed.

"...that's not what it looked like when you stole my soul," the cat comments.

"Yeah, well, you didn't piss me off as much as that moron." Snatcher grunts, lashing his tail once in a huff. "It won't be as filling with no contract involved, but I'll take what I can get."

The spook approaches the cradle, giving the child within a curled fang.

"You. Shut up for two minutes. Capiche?"

While the expression he received could be construed as offended, Snatcher wasn't going to entertain the idea that this space infant understood him. A claw pressed the button to close the cradle top. Ha. Try guilt tripping him now.

Wrapping his lengthy arms around the metal container, the ghost pushes off from the floor and floats up into the rafters. Leonard and Mu are left behind with quick protests he ignores. Snatcher was tempted to observe their struggle to climb for his amusement, but his investment in this errand was draining the longer he spent dallying. If he couldn't get ahold of those crystal hourglasses, he'd just dump the kid and be done with it.

...hrm. Again, that feeling of a spike being driven into his center. Something inside him protested the idea, and he couldn't identify it.

"There you are!"

Snatcher snaps back to reality from his thoughts. A few blinks return him to the present, where he hovers over the maintenance platform.

The platform is constructed from thin plywood beams. Stretching over about a fourth of the rafters in the parlor ceiling, the lighting is even more sparse than the downstairs. Strewn across the platform is an odd assortment of goods that probably spilled out of a grocer's delivery truck. Ice cubes sat in haphazard piles around various fruits and vegetables. A small vent grate is positioned over a spit and bucket with coal to form a makeshift grill, beside which sit worn and well-loved pots and pans. Buckets of prawns - live, and pinching - formed a mountain underneath the figure of the cat that addressed him.

This cat was very different from Leonard, and what Snatcher had come to expect of the city strays. She was short, stout, and plump. The feline sported a coat of thick orange fur decorated with splotches and faint tabby stripes of deeper orange hue. Much of her pelt was covered by an apron and coat, white pants, a cherry red ascot, and a chef's toque. Each toe bean on the paws were tipped with finely sharpened ivory claws of considerable length. Said paws rested comfortably on the cat's stomach. She gazed up at the large ghost with a warm and welcoming smile to complete the ensemble.

"Hello, stranger! A pleasure to meetcha, indeed!"

Snatcher gives her his very best dark smile.

Most who entered the depths of his woods would argue otherwise... if they were still alive to do so.

Either the new cat didn't understand the menace radiating off the ghost- or chose to ignore it- as she clapped her paws together with a wag of her bushy tail, ears perked in excitement.

"Where's the little one? Oooohh I haven't met a kitten in so long!"

Snatcher's grin falls into a grimace as his fun is killed. Hmph. So much for intimidation. Disappointed, he unwinds his coiled arms from the capsule and lets it drop to the platform, where it hovers in place around the cat's eye level.

"It's not a cat," he says, folding his arms as the end of his tail snakes over to push the button. With a hiss, the top opens up yet again, revealing the tear-stained and upset alien baby. "It's an alien, so if anything you do poisons it, you'll be answering to me for ruining my job."

The orange cat is not perturbed in the slightest. Her face lights up with joy as her paws clap to her muzzle, making a purr of happiness.

"Doesn't matter, Mr. Ghost - to us cats, all babies are just like our kittens. Oh my, aren't you such a darling?" the cat murmurs to the baby, who looks at her with uncertainty. "Are you hungry, little kitten? I've got some tasty food just for you, yes I do!"

Snatcher just throws his arms up with a huff.

The alien claps its hands together, burbling and trying to grab at the cat's face while making 'aBABABA-' noises. The cat only chuckles in response before turning around.

"Don't worry, sugar, I'll fix you right up with some grub. Your daddy hasn't been feedin' you right, has he? No he hasn't~" the cat babytalks as she starts up the grill, completely missing the shellshocked blanche that overcomes Snatcher's face.

"WHAT?!" he sputters, fur ruff bristling as his tail tenses in surprise. "I am NOT that thing's father!"

"Coulda fooled me, Mr. Ghost! Nanny, then?"

"NO!" Snatcher hisses, claws clenched. "Rude! I am not, nor will I ever be, some sniveling baby's sitter! I'm just transporting it for a client, then it's out of my hair for good."

The heady scent of roasting seafood drifts off the grill. During Snatcher's tirade, the tabby cat had shelled, cut, and arranged a large number of prawns and fresh vegetables onto the mini grill. Snatcher noted that her claws were her primary tools.

"You say that," the cat says with an amused churr, her back still turned as she rotates shrimp on kabobs, "but that little kitten sure thinks otherwise, I can tell. Murrhurhur."

"If by that you mean exceedingly handsy," Snatcher growls, giving the crib the stinkeye.

The baby inside tilts its head back to return that baleful glare with the most innocent eyes.

Snatcher curls his lip and folds his arms in distaste.

"Awww, you're bonding~!" the tabby teases. They chuckle as Snatcher levels the hostility on them, though they aren't bothered by the golden glow searing lasers into the back of their head. "So, what brings you and your companions to my neck of the island? Not a friendly place to barge in, not at all."

"I'm here to steal back a treasure the Mafia boss stole from me."

"Ahh," the tabby says with a sage nod. "Whatcher looking for is backstage, then. Shouldn't be too much of a problem for you, though, eh Mr. Ghost? Just a few walls away, and boom- you're there!"

"It's not that easy," Snatcher grumbles. "I can't teleport right now, and going through walls SUCKS. I need to sneak the pecking things out-"

wHACK

"-aGH! HEY!"

Snatcher's tail is met by the swift strike of a wooden spoon. Once the jarring feeling is gone, he snaps it back to his person, massaging the end as he glares, affronted. He can't feel pain, but that sure didn't feel nice.

"No bad language in front of the kitten!" the tabby scolds, waving the spoon at him.

"I've ripped apart mortals for less, furball," Snatcher hisses in warning. He had to admire the courage this puffy feline displayed. Few dared actually try to hurt him. "If I could feel pain, you'd be shark chum. Count yourself lucky I'm too dead for that."

"Seems you're too dead for manners, as well," the tabby retorts, turning back to her cooking. With a swoop of a knife, she swipes a butter pat over the shrimp and seasons the vegetables.

"Good luck- hff- getting him to listen." The returning voice of Leonard is accompanied by a paw scrabbling up over the edge of the wooden slats. With a heave, the Nyakuza manages to pull his torso up and over the lip of the maintenance platform. "May look like a Muppet, but he hits like a fuckin' subway car-"

cLONK

"-nyOW!! Nghff that hurt," Leonard protests, using his free paw to massage the spot on his head that just got bopped with the same spoon.

"Same goes for you too, buster!" the tabby rounds on Leonard, standing over him with a puffed tail as she scrunches her muzzle in disapproval. "There's children present!"

Leonard winces, one eye shut as he looks up at his assailant. And freezes on the spot, feet still dangling from the platform.

"Wait- you- are you-?"

He's interrupted by another bop to the forehead with the spoon, though not as rough. The tabby looms over Leonard, her face hardening into stone as she tucks her chin.

"I go by Cooking Cat," she chirps, hefting the spoon onto her shoulder. "And I'm sure I've never seen you before in my life, stranger."

"But you look like-"

"You must have seen my cookin' shows!" Cooking Cat turns with a sweep of her tail, leaving Leonard to finish his climb up the side of the bar ceiling beams. "I did have a stint on TV for a while, yes I did - but those days are behind me, now. Now I keep the poor souls on this island spared from the Mafia's cookin'. Unless you wanna eat what seagulls won't touch, come on up here and be patient."

"Oh I like her," Snatcher says with a fanged grin, releasing his tail as his mood does a 180. "Is it too late to exchange one soulless meat shield for another?"

Snatcher laughs as Leonard throws him an unamused glare.

"Does that mean I'd get my soul back?" Leonard grunts, digging his claws into the wood and looping a leg over the edge of the platform.

"HA! No."

"You're quite a rude young man," Cookie says, turning back around to face them. Her arms are laden with plates of food - sizzling, fresh from the griddle, and smelling of delectable butters and spices. Seafood, fruits, and vegetables, grilled to perfection. Cooking Cat approaches the cradle and places a generous portion on the end of the cradle, where the baby inside could reach it. "Here you go, lil kitten. Eat to your heart's content!"

"Seriously? That's what you think babies can eat? You'd be better off mincing that into dust and making a smoothie-"

Snatcher's derisive comments are overridden by the most aggressive display of hunger he'd ever seen in his unlife. The contents of the ceramic dish are dispatched with the efficiency of a starving wolf, bite after bite vanishing into the sharp toothy maw of the small child in the blanket. Baby teeth or not, they were doing serious work on that seafood, entire shrimps vanishing into that ravenous mouth.

Snatcher and Leonard couldn't help but stare in amazement at the spectacle.

Cooking Cat laughs, her voice tinged with a purr.

"Oh I'm so glad you like it, lil kitten!" The tabby wipes a bit of stray butter from the baby's cheek with a paw bean. "Do you have a name, honeybun?"

"What is wrong with you people? It may be an alien, but it can't ta-"

"bbbuuhhAH."

The sudden outburst from the baby is muffled by yet more food shoveled into their mouth, as they grab handfuls of grilled fruit and nosh on that now that the plate is cleaned of meat. With their free hand, they point toward the ebony-purple ghost hovering only ten feet away.

Cooking Cat gives Snatcher an amused look, standing up straight. With expert balance, she shifts one of the plates to her other arm, and places the freed paw on her hip. Her expression is nothing short of smug.

"Oh my, well it seems she does! You gave her a name, Mr. Ghost?"

"Wh- but- I-" Snatcher sputters. What the peck just happened? And why did he feel like he was just thrown under a carriage? "I did not!"

"He called her Hat Kid," Leonard says helpfully.

The baby drums her free hand on the plate, throwing a few vegetable rinds to the platform in the process. She babbles and bounces excitedly, her eating finally beginning to slow.

"Sounds like a yes to me," Cooking Cat hums, reaching out her paw and ruffling the baby's hair. "But kitten, are you sure you like that name? I could give you one better if you'd like?"

The excited drumming becomes insistent drumming, the food-smudged cheeks puffing in a pout.

"Eh eh EH," the baby emphasizes her fists smacking the plate. "Hhhhaaa. Kii!"

"Alright, alright," Cooking Cat chuckles, using a napkin to wipe off the remaining food splatters. "Hat it is. Careful, kitten, you'll stain your lovely namesake."

The newly dubbed Hat Kid giggles, burbling as she tries to play with Cooking Cat's paws. The tabby deftly avoids the grasping fingers until she's cleaned up every last crumb.

More fingers appear at the edge of the maintenance platform. Much to Snatcher's dismay, they're followed by a red cloak with a star pin, and a familiar set of golden ponytails.

"Told ya she was a genius," Mu grunts, hauling herself onto the platform with a hup! The hefty scent of food almost sends her tumbling back as she swoons with delight. "Oh my goodness, that smells SO GOOD. Where's the good food at? Gimme some, Spooky Noodle!"

"I'm not giving you jack squat," Snatcher sneers, folding his arms. "Get it yourself."

"Ugh, you're a TERRIBLE sidekick!" Mu complains, skipping her way forward and swiping a plate from Cooking Cat's armload of platters. "Ohhh my- look at all this GRUB! The Mafia definitely didn't cook this, right? They NEVER make anything this good."

"I should say not." Cooking Cat flicks an ear, tail twitching. "As impatient as ever. You're the one that keeps sneaking in to take some of my dishes, then boltin' off into the night. Have you ever tried askin', honey?"

"Why ashk when I can jusght ghet whagh I want right thegn?" Mustache Girl speaks through her mouthful of grilled fish, just managing to avoid choking on it. "Shtealing ish SHO much eashier!"

Cooking Cat sighs and shakes her head. Next, she turns to Leonard, who looks rather lost in the whole situation. He's surprised by the proffered plate, but the tabby persists.

"Here, hon. You look starved and waterlogged worse than a sewer rat 'round here - 'specially since you're wearin' that goofy suit. Eat'cher fill."

Leonard hesitates, but his stomach fills in the gaps for him by rumbling in loud complaint. Come to think of it, neither of the two island visitors had eaten a thing since arriving. Snatcher was a ghost, he didn't need to eat. After 12 hours of solid workout running around town, getting blasted out of a spaceship, and building a campsite, Leonard needed some quick R&R. Nodding once in thanks, the Nyakuza takes a fork in his claws and starts digging into his own dish.

Snatcher snorts once, the end of his tail flicking. They were losing time doing pointless mortal things like eating when they could be progressing into the backstage, and getting this whole chore over with! This would be so much easier if they all just died so Snatcher wouldn't have to bother with dead weight.

"I assumed you didn't need anythin', but would you like a plate as well?"

Cooking Cat pulls Snatcher's attention away from the crib, where Hat Kid is yawning and pushing her plate away. The ghost curls his lip.

"Not interested, pussycat. Eating is more of a choice than a requirement for me."

Cooking Cat shrugs. The final plate is placed onto a nearby crate. "Suit yerself, then! I'll just have it later."

Snatcher leans down to face the tiny Hat Kid in the crib, looming upside-down over the open top. Eyes narrowed, he lets out a curt exhale in exasperation toward the alien baby.

"Done screaming now? Can we keep moving in peace?" he asks with laced sarcasm.

The baby smiles back at him winningly. Was the tiny alien trying to look cute? It wasn't working. A pitiful attempt to sway an ancient, centuries-old ghost.

"Eh, ehhh." Hat Kid raises her little fists, and repeats the finger-opening and closing motion she made back at the campfire.

Snatcher bares his fangs at her in a malevolent smile.

"Nope. Not this time, kiddo! You can keep those sweaty flesh mittens to yourself."

Snatcher's scare tactics prove profoundly disappointing, as this only turns the satisfied smile on her face to another huffy pout.

"Ehhhhhh!" Her whining and grabby hands continue in earnest. She leans forward to stretch her arms, to no avail. When this yields nothing, she slumps back into the cradle, tears pricking at her eyes.

The tiniest gasp of an inhale is the only warning he gets.

"hhHHHHH-PEKK!"

Dishes clatter from the washbasin as Cooking Cat drops her plate in shock.

Leonard's tail bushes out with the surprise.

...

Snatcher lets out a tiny, wheezy snort.

Then-

"bfFF-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAAAAA-!!"

Snatcher bowls over laughing onto the platform, tail thrashing left and right as he writhes like a snake.

Cooking Cat's ears pin to her head, soapy paws on her hips as her fur bristles and levels a golden glare on Snatcher.

"See whatchu did?? You taught a poor lil kitten to swear!"

"HAHAHAHAHA- HER- IT'S FIRST WORD WAS PECK! HAHAHAHAHAHA-"

"Stop saying it!" Cooking Cat flails the wooden spoon in his direction, which only earns more laughter.

"PEKK!!" the baby insisted, her frustration turning up into a triumphant grin as she leaned over the edge, watching Snatcher cackle from the cradle. Her repeated swearing sent him into hysterics, wiping golden moisture from his glowing eyes.

Leonard can't take it anymore. He's got his muzzle mashed into his paws, desperately trying to pretend he's coughing.

Mu isn't fazed in the slightest, cleaning her plate of food before frisbee-tossing it into the sink. She just shrugs, just as messy as Hat Kid was moments before.

"I don't see what the big deal is," the hooded girl says, leaning against the wall. "It's just a word- and it's a bird one, too!"

"Now see here-" Cooking Cat steps forward and starts cleaning Mu's face with a dish towel, much to her distress. "That's a VERY bad word the birds coined, and I won't tolerate kittens sayin' it! You should know better, hon. Do you have a name, sweetheart?"

"Just Mu, short for Mustache Girl!" Mu shoves Cooking Cat's paws away. "Stop it! You're getting towel in my mouth."

"Only because your mustache was covered in sauce, kitten. You can call me Cookie, then. Short for Cooking Cat, murhurr." Cookie chuckles, putting her towel back into her apron pocket. "Well, no more stealing on my watch. If you want food, you're more than welcome to come and visit me to ask for a plate, alright?"

Mu sticks her tongue out at Cookie. "You can't tell me what to do. I'll do what I want!"

Snatcher recovers, floating back up to a standing hover with a deep inhale. His tail curls in happiness, clasping his hands together in delight.

"Ahh... that was lovely! I needed a good laugh. Nothing beats the corruption of future generations!"

"Fububu gegeh," Hat Kid keeps up a steady stream of babble, giggling as she drums the edge of the cradle. Again, she holds out her hands and squeezes her fingers in Snatcher's direction.

Snatcher only sneers at her. "Why are you making that face at me, kiddo? You'd do well to cease."

"She wants you to pick her up," Cookie says, quirking one brow.

"WHAT? No!" Snatcher protests.

"Why not? She thinks quite highly of you, for not bein' her dad."

"I don't want that thing's grubby fingers in my mane!" Snatcher reels back in disgust from the cradle, rubbing at his wrists. "It grabbed me once before, it was vile!"

Cookie glanced down to the hovering cradle, her tail flicking as her nose twitches. Her posture oozes motherly disapproval.

"All kittens need physical contact, Mr. Ghost. Have you not touched the child once this whole time? That's very poor for proper development."

Snatcher clenches his fists, claws digging into his palms, indignant.

"I don't give a shit-" Snatcher swiftly moves his tail aside to avoid another bop from the spoon "-about this infant's proper development. I'm here for a bounty of souls, and I'm only getting it if I can retrieve my item and take it and the damn-" another pullback from the cooking utensil "-kid back with me. Nothing less, and certainly nothing MORE."

Faint sniffling comes from the cradle.

The cats and ghost all turn to look down, and see big watery eyes, with wobbly lips.

"...oh no."

"hk- hic- hHHNNNNWAAAAAAAAHHH-"

For the second time in less than an hour, the company of cats and people- alive or otherwise- are forced to cover their ears from the piercing wail of a crying child.

"NOT AGAIN!" Snatcher complains, his fluff standing on end from discomfort. "STOP THAT NOISE!! I FEEL LIKE MY CELLS ARE SPLITTING!"

Cooking Cat races toward the cradle, scooping up the infant within and tucking the bundled child to her bosom. Murmuring gently, Cookie bobs the baby up and down, wrapping gentle arms around the sobbing baby as she sways her back and forth.

"There there, Hattie," Cookie murmurs, her voice soothing and low. "It's alright- I know Mr. Ghost has been mean, but he's kept you safe, hasn't he? Everything's gonna be ok."

The baby is not convinced. She sniffles, her eyes red and welling with tears as she sobs. A hand lifts to pat at Cooking Cat's muzzle, then flaps in Snatcher's direction before another wail bubbles out.

"Oh dear, she really wants you to be the one to hold her," Cookie insists. "Won't you please take her? She's not going to be happy in my arms."

"NOT HAPPENING!"

"n-HIC-NWAAAAAAH-!"

Cookie stamps a foot, flinching from the sound of the distressed child, and irritated with the ghost in front of her for his stubborn behavior.

"You- alright, I've had enough!"

The tabby stomps across the platform, right over to the ghost as he flinched from the wailing sound. A swift paw flicks out and grabs ahold of the nearest noodle arm, yanking it down to eye level with herself. Before Snatcher can protest or grab her soul for daring to touch him, Cookie shoves the bundle of cloth into the shadowy hose of an arm, and forcefully rolls the arm back up into the ghost's torso.

Snatcher freezes in place, his mane bristling with the shock. Did that cat just-?!

"HEY! YOU DON'T GET TO MANHANDLE ME, YOU-"

"Shshhhhh!" Cookie hisses, waving her paw right in his face and not even looking up at Snatcher. "She's calmin' down!"

...Snatcher takes a moment to realize the noise level had indeed dropped.

The baby had grabbed ahold of his mane again- much to his dismay- and proceeded to burrow her face right into his neck ruff. Her tearstained cheeks were wiping their stupid saltwater into his fur! And she had the nerve to look happy about it, smiling as she snuggles up against him and wrap her arms to HUG HIM!

"Child, if you don't extricate your gripping appendages from my mane this instant-"

"You really want that child to start screamin' again?" Cookie interrupts, putting her paws on her hips. "She only stopped 'cuz you finally held her."

"Oh you've GOT to be kidding me."

"'Fraid not! Now, you wanna get your thing back from the Mafia Boss?"

Snatcher's aura shifts to dangerous as he glares daggers in Cookie's direction.

"I'm not going ANYWHERE with this THING clinging to my mane!"

Cookie, however, turns right around and walks past her mounds of shellfish and crates of supplies. Shoving a few boxes to one side, she unveils a large metal grate screwed into the wall. A few quick twists of her claws, and the screws pop out one after another.

"Sorry, Mr. Ghost, nothin' I can do about it now! Extricating a kitten from their favorite blanket will always get you the claws. Here's the air vent you need - if you want your stuff back, go through here, turn right, then left, follow it for three grates, and pop down the fourth. His hoard should be right past the freezer, in the backstage."

Snatcher makes a wordless sound of distaste, lifting his mitten paws to try to wrench the baby Hattie off of his front.

"yNRAGH-"

He yanks his hand back and shakes it around, freeing it from the sharp teeth. That little snot actually bit him!

Self-satisfied, Hattie buried her face back into Snatcher's fluff.

"What did I tell you?" Cookie said with an admonishing chuckle.

"No! This is a lot less funny when it happens to me!" Snatcher snarls. Dammit! He was being cornered by a cat and a small child! This was climbing the ranks for worst day he's had in years.

"I'd imagine not," Leonard says, wiping his muzzle with a napkin. He swishes his tail over the crate he used as a chair while he cleans his plate, placing it on the wooden paneling.

Cookie sweeps her paw toward the open vent. "In you go!"

"Finally!" Mu sings, shoving past Cooking Cat and marching straight into the vent. Her plate is thrown like a frisbee into the nearest wall, where it shatters on impact and scatters silverware and seafood shells onto the floor. Mu's tiny child legs flail in the opening of the vent before she squeezes all the way in, disappearing into the vent shaft. Her voice echoes back- "Time to go kick some mafia butt...!"

"For the final time before I rip your soul out of your body- we are NOT here to-! Aaaand she's gone. I love when the youth show respect for their elders!" Snatcher says through gritted fangs, his words as biting as his teeth.

"Elder? I'm fairly certain I'm older than you," Leonard comments as he kneels next to the vent, himself, peering inside.

"Don't even try that game with me, Lenny. I've been dead for centuries, and that doesn't even include the time I spent alive."

Leonard throws a look of interest over his shoulder.

"Alive?"

Shit.

"None of your business," Snatcher growls, his hand flinching away from Hattie as he tries to reach up and remove her again, only to be met with a second round of sharp teeth closing inches from his mitt fingers. "Asking a ghost about their previous life is a huge faux pas - I may be stuck in my thirties forever, but I've been around for three centuries and seen WAY more sh-" a glance at Cookie, wielding her spoon "-things than you."

Leonard says nothing, mulling over this response in silence. The cat's golden eyes narrow, looking at the discarded vent cover in lieu of making eye contact. After a few tense moments, Leonard nods, and Snatcher's raised hackles start to lower. He didn't expect the cat to acquiesce - it was a relief he wasn't going to press further.

"Fair enough," is all Leonard says, before kneeling down and squeezing into the ventilation shaft. "Thank you for the food, miss- ah- Cooking Cat?"

"Anytime, sugar." Cookie nods in approval, before turning to Snatcher and waving the spoon in the same direction. "On you get!"

"I am not moving one inch with this vermin clinging to my mane."

Baby Hattie looks up at Snatcher, puffing her cheeks again with an adorable pout peeking out from underneath the giant hat brim. She opens her mouth and takes a deep breath-

"OKAY OKAY FINE! JUST STAY PECKING QUIET!!" Snatcher snarls, teeth bared.

Snatcher puts halfhearted effort into dodging Cookie's spoon, the utensil smacking him on the tail earning only a flinch. Growling to himself, the ghost bristles in frustration, clawed paws dropping and curling into clenched fists.

Hattie gives him a big ol winning smile, tucking her face back into the fluff. Snatcher doesn't even try to hide his shudder of revulsion.

A child.

Urgh.

Cookie twitches an ear, tapping one paw on the floor. She doesn't seem quite satisfied with this state of affairs, but the ghost had finally stopped trying to extricate the baby from his person. That kitten had one hell of a strong grip. As long as the talking spaghetti with an attitude didn't try to remove the child by force, little Hat would probably be fine. She even looked quite comfortable.

"...you about done gripin'?" Cookie asks. "I feel like you're wastin' precious time, Mr. Ghost. Your little friends are probably goin' to find your stuff long before you get there, at this rate."

Snatcher bares his teeth in her direction. A snap of his tail, the end looping around the hovering pod and pulling it along like a wagon.

"The moment this runt lets go, they are going back in the pod," Snatcher throws at Cookie as though it were a threat.

"You're welcome!" Cookie calls after him, unperturbed as she sets about cleaning up the mess left from the shared meal.

The specter only grunts. The cat had nothing more to offer him. He ignores her as he slithers his way into the cold metal ventilation shaft, the lights and smell of fresh cooking fading out from around him and the baby clutching his collar ruff. The smells are replaced by old dust, charring from smoke he could only hope was barbeque, and... he was fairly certain the stench of rotting food. Disgusting. How messy were the Mafia of Cooks? Mustache Brat wasn't kidding when she said they occasionally clogged the air vents with food.

How demeaning that he had to hunker down like some kind of worm to crawl through tunnels. It was so cramped, he could feel his coils bumping into the walls and ceiling. This was worse than the corridors on the downed spacecraft. God, he hated being corporeal so much. An hour in the night air had helped him recover some energy, but going through walls would just be so unpleasant until he could fully rejuvenate. He would give anything to be intangible again, so he could force this child to let go of him without getting his fur yanked on or covered in toddler hand ick. He didn't even want to imagine how much- what did children eat? Peanut butter? Alien peanut butter. He didn't want to think about how much alien peanut butter was slowly clumping into his finely kempt, once silky mane.

The slithering violet noodle comes to a stop at the first intersection of vents, his eyes shedding a pair of yellow glowing beams into the darkness of the vent shaft. The metal around them is smeared with ash and grime - he could swear there were a few paw markings from either Cookie or Leonard making their way through this channel in the past. Figures a pair of alley cats would be just fine with filth.

What were the tabby's instructions again? He hadn't really been paying attention through the shock and frustration of being turned into a living baby pram.

Eh. It didn't matter. He'd find his way eventually.

Snatcher turns to the left, and starts hovering his way forward.

"eHH-! Eh eh eh!!"

The distressed sound directly underneath his chin causes Snatcher to halt, the ghost coiling backward and tilting his chin in distaste.

The baby latched onto his front like a tick is looking up at him with those big cyan eyes.

"What happened to staying pecking quiet, kiddo?"

Hattie breaks eye contact to look the opposite direction, down the path to the right.

"...what? Not happy with my choice?" Snatcher scoffs.

Hat puffs her cheeks again, eyebrows furrowing under the heavy brim of the giant top hat. From where she's tucked in the noodle arm against Snatcher's front, she removes one stubby hand from the fuzz, and pushes at the brim of the hat, spinning it just a bit around her head. She then points that hand- very insistently- down the vent shaft to the right.

"EhHHHH-!" she burbles wordlessly, flailing her arm.

"...you're telling me to go that way."

The baby returns her big, cyan eyes up to meet the golden yellow gaze of an unimpressed noodle.

The irritated look on the spirit's face curls into a Grinch-esque grin.

"And what would you say if I were to ignore you and keep going this way? Hm? How about that, pipsqueak?"

Snatcher starts to slither forward again at a taunting slow pace.

"EEHHHHHHNN!! NEHHH!" the baby protests louder, tugging at his mane with both hands now.

"Agh-! Geez! Calm the peck down, kiddo, I'm just messing with you." Snatcher grunts, backing up to the intersection again and turning down the right path. "You win, we'll go this way. Sheesh. You're so stubborn."

The baby Hat Kid pouts out her lower lip, eyes closed in a remarkable recreation of a haughty expression. Did the child just huff at him? The nerve.

Snatcher grumpily worms his way through the metal plating of the vent shaft, and before he can even inspect the possible route at the next intersection, the child again lifts her hand and flails it vigorously in the direction of the left vent shaft. She makes burbled persistent cries the entire time.

"Geez, kid, when did you get so bossy?" Snatcher growls, glowering down at the child still latched to his front. "And LOUD. For an alien of unnerving intelligence, I guess I was expecting too much of an infant to understand stealth and what it means to be sneaky."

Hattie sticks her tongue out at him.

Golden eyes narrowed, and Snatcher stuck a forked golden snake tongue out at her from between his fangs.

For a few moments, the two hold this position. A standoff of wills- one full of ire and impatience, and the other a ghost.

Then, the baby's glower breaks, a smile cracking across their face as they giggle.

Sensing he had won, Snatcher sighs, eyes closing and plunging the vent shaft into darkness. The end of his tail taps against the metal pod.

"Glad we could come to an agreement," Snatcher snorts, twisting the length of his snakelike body down the corridor to the left. The cat said to follow the path for a few grates- she also mentioned a freezer. Wonderful. Just what he wanted- to be somewhere cold.

As if on cue, Snatcher passes by a grate mounted in the floor of the ventilation shaft. A rush of cold air blasts upward to meet him, complete with a fine layer of mist that left dewdrops on his uncomfortably solid velvety hide. There- that vent was his ticket. Stopping short, the serpentine specter wraps his thick mitten fingers around the bars of the grate. It's chilly to the touch, so much so that he can see crystals of frost creeping up the soft ectoplasm of his hands. An involuntary shudder runs through his person, from head to the tip of his tail. Nope, still did not like ice. The cold couldn't harm him; one of the bonuses of being dead. Emotionally, however? Not a fan.

Hat blinks, feeling the shudder from where she hung on like a monkey. Confused, the baby pats at the neck ruff.

Snatcher ignores her. He didn't care if the baby was trying to ask for something, or whatever she was doing. Quite frankly, he couldn't wait to be rid of this tick on his body.

Wicked claws unsheathed from his fingers. The violet-black daggers dig into the metal with such force that it bends the grating. A single harsh yank, and the grate pops loose. Screws fly free from the fastenings and ping off the walls of the vent shaft, a few scattering across the frosty floor below. Stiff hands chuck the grating aside, and Snatcher dives into the room below.