Mine and Insane Cricket's roleplay. If you're not us, you're not allowed to post. x]

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“GET BACK HERE!” shouted the angry voices of the group of at least fifteen people that were chasing down the black cat that leaped through the alleyways. It soon came to a stop, though, having run into a dead end. The cat soon changed into a boy, long black hair flailing as he frantically looked for a way out. His whole body jumped and spun, landing so that he was facing the opposite way he had been before, now facing the group that was advancing on him. He gulped, inching backwards as they stepped forwards.

“You damn cat,” the gruff man in front said, scolding him. “This is the second time you’ve tried running off! What do we have to do to make you listen?!”

There were many whispers behind the man, many laughs and lustful eyes upon the boy. Gross… He cowered, the black cat ears atop his head pinning back and his tail tucked closely to his body. He pressed against the wall, as though hoping he would just melt into it to get away.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven gunshots. "Shit, outta bullets," came a female's voice. "Alright, looks like I'll have to get blood on my clothes!" she yelled, pulling a sword from a large sheath on her back and running into the group of remaining men. Only four bullets had killed, but the other three had seriously wounded.

She wore goggles over her eyes, and killed all but two men, one of which she had shot, the other she held by the collar of his shirt, glaring at him through violet lenses. "You rockheads think you can get away with not paying for my service!? she demanding, her voice a booming echo in the alleyway. "Well ya can't!"

She pulled a knife from her waist, slitting his throat and killing him. She stood fully, putting her bloody sword back in its sheath and turning to face the wounded man, darting after him and catching the back of his shirt as he tried to escape.

The deer-like girl slammed him against the wall of a building, elbowing him in the gut and dropping him to the ground. She grabbed his weapons, shoving them into a large empty burlap sack she had had tucked away in her belt. She also took all his money from him, stuffing it into the bag as well.

"Tell those brickbrains that they better return every single weapon I made for them, and if they want mercy, they better pay me triple the original price," she growled, kicking the man on the ground. She went about collecting the weapons and money from the corpses in the alley, then slung the bag over her shoulder and went about her merry way.

((Disclaimer: I asked for permission to god mode before I did. ;;>.>....))

The cat boy had sunk to the ground at the first gunshot and remained there throughout the whole fight, staring wide eyed at the scene. He sat there until finally, it was all over. When going to move, he stopped and looked down, discovering that at some point in the chaos, he had wet himself. His cheeks reddening with embarrassment, he sighed and got up, staggering away from the wall. The man that had been left alive had already left, leaving the boy alone with the corpses that littered the alleyway.

Maneuvering around the bodies, he peeked out into the street, then slowly left the alleyway and walked down the block. Thankfully, it was late enough that no one was out, so he wouldn’t have to deal with laughs concerning the state of his pants. Finding his way down the block, he stopped at a small shop on the corner of the street; a shop that the mafia had had plenty business with. Lifting his hand, he knocked on the door.

The metal door opened and a feminine looking man stood in the doorway, looking down at the kid. “Oh! Trap, my darling! What on earth happened to you? Come in, come in,” he insisted, bringing the child inside and closing the door behind him. “Oh, dear, it seems you got in a bit of mess, didn’t you?” he asked, referring to Trap’s pants and the blood on the bottom of his shoes. “Come along, dear, let’s get you cleaned up.” He ushered him off upstairs and to the bath, allowing the boy to clean himself as he went to get him a change of clothes.

After the bath and getting the new clothes on, Trap hung around a little longer for a bite to eat. “Thank you, Angeal,” he said with a faint smile. “I need to get going, though.”

“Oh, no problem at all!” Angeal replied. “Here, let me do your hair before you go.” He moved around to behind the chair the boy sat in, combing and braiding his hair.

Afterward, Trap said goodnight and left, back out on the streets again. He looked back in the direction he had been not long ago, biting his lip a little as he contemplated what to do next. Inhaling and exhaling, he set forth down the street, hoping to leave everything that’s happened so far behind and start a life on his own.

The next day, Mira was at the forge, wearing a thick brown apron over her bloodless clothing. She was hammering a hot piece of metal, alongside the much larger blacksmiths. She wore thick leather gloves and her goggles down over her eyes.

She worked in an open area, where several people leaned against a fence to watch her and the others work.

"Did you hear about what happened last night?" a woman asked several other women and a few men.

"No, what happened?" a man asked curiously.

"Someone slayed a bunch of mobsters," another woman said with several fast nods.

"Who? Another mafia?" a man asked worriedly.

"Now, now," one of the large blacksmiths said, looking over at the fence. "Ladies shouldn't speak of murder, and gentlemen shouldn't encourage them to."

Mira smirked and continued the shaping of her piece of metal.

"Oh?" one of the men on the other side of the fence asked. "Then why is it that you're letting a woman do a man's work?" he asked angrily.

"'Cause she's got more ballocks 'an you do!" the smith said with a mean laugh, returning to his work. "Eh Mira, whatcha think of what happened last night?"

The deer-girl shrugged a little. "I don't think much of it. They were mobsters. They all deserve to die in my opinion."

It was the next day, last night’s events continuously replaying in Trap’s mind, making it difficult for him to sleep. All around him he heard people talking about it, how the mobsters were murdered, yet no one seemed to know who the murderer was. He couldn’t help but sigh, wishing it would all wash away.

Walking a few more blocks, he stopped at a small café and entered, the bell above the door ringing as the door opened and closed. He went to the counter and asked for merely an apple, paid for it with what little money he had, and went on his way. Back out on the streets, he munched on his fruit as he walked, keeping his eyes on the sidewalk and doing his best to ignore the people around him. Normally he was pretty friendly, but after everything that happened, he felt he had a right to be distant.

A whistle caught his attention, causing him to look up at the high school boys that were calling him. He merely sighed; people mistaking him for a girl, again, like always. Of course, it probably didn’t help that the clothes Angeal gave him were a bit feminine-looking and his hair was still in a braid. Oh well. Ignoring them, he looked ahead of himself again and continued walking.

That evening, Mira headed home, her usual burlap sack hanging from her hand just inches above the ground, goggles on her forehead, and a tired look about her.