Harry Guakomoli was away delving into the secrets of his past when La Diabla commanded her men to kill The World's Smartest Cat. Oslo looked around the room. Four of Las Pollos Pocos remained, all with murderous intent. He scanned his surroundings for an exit strategy. The bedroom door was still open, and the apartment didn't even have a fucking front door. Not anymore. It was the obvious escape route, but also the one that made the most sense.
Oslo made a mad dash for the living room. His dash didn't last long; one of the vatos managed to grab a hold of his tail.
"Guess again, fucko!" The World's Smartest Cat yelled before he bit into the man's hand.
The gangbanger screamed and released his grip. But his action provided two of his cohorts the opportunity to wrap their hands around Oslo. He was pinned down on the bed, and no matter how much he struggled, Oslo lacked sufficient leverage to defend himself.
The fourth thug reached behind his back under his black and white flannel shirt and withdrew the knife that was fastened securely in its sheath. Its blade was long and thick and looked freshly polished. It glistened when struck by the early morning sun.
"Little fucker," the vato said as a malicious grin grew upon his countenance. "I'm gonna have fun skinnin' you alive. I might even make a hat outta your hide. A pussy skin cap."
"I dunno, man," said one of the gangbangers holding Oslo down. "Let's just shoot 'im and move on."
"Si," agreed the other thug on the bed. "We've got a puta caliente to play with. And skinnin' a gato alive is fucked up, ese."
The sound of one of the bedroom windows breaking ended the debate. Oslo arched his neck to find the source, but one of his captors blocked his view. That was until the gangbanger suddenly let go of The World's Smartest Cat and fell down face first on the bed, a pair of throwing stars embedded in the back of his neck. A short figure, no more than 5' 4", perched upon the window sill. The stranger's attire was all black: baggy hooded sweatshirt, fingerless gloves, sneakers, and...yoga pants? The hood, coupled with a bandana tied around the head like one worn by a Wild West bank robber, obscured the visitor's face save for a pair of big brown eyes.
The man whom Oslo had assaulted just a moment before charged toward the buttinski. Said buttinski hopped off the sill into the room. The gangbanger lunged at the stranger, who, at the last second, performed a split and followed up with a punch to the junk. He doubled over, and as he did the figure grabbed his hair and executed a monkey flip. The man was sent through the broken window, and he landed hard on the metal landing of the fire escape.
The stranger in black was back on his, her?, feet only to be met by the man with the knife. He attempted to slash the interloper, but Oslo's mystery savior sidestepped the attack and countered with a quick chop to the base of his neck. Pain shot throughout the man's body causing him to drop the blade. In one fluid motion the stranger, small in stature yet big in badass-ness, caught the weapon in mid-fall by its handle and sliced the man's neck with it. Blood immediately sprayed from the gash. The vato fell to see his knees. The enigmatic warrior threw the knife at the gangbanger holding down The World"s Smartest Cat. The blade landed between the man's eyes burying itself to the hilt.
"Oh my fuckness!" a relieved and confused Oslo exclaimed. "How did you do that shit?"
"No time to talk," a woman's voice, muffled and sounding vaguely familiar to The World's Smartest Cat, answered from behind the black bandana. "We need to leave."
Oslo squinted at the dark figure covered in gangbanger blood caused by arterial spray. Those chocolate eyes. Why couldn't he place those eyes? Or that voice?
"I know you. Why can't I place it?"
"Because you're an idiot," she replied. "We need to leave. Now."
“Okay,“ replied Oslo with a shrug before hopping off the bed and walking toward the empty space once occupied by the apartment door.
“Not that way. The building is surrounded by La Diabla's goons. We go up and travel by rooftop.“
“Um...“ The World's Smartest Cat's voice trailed off.
“Don't worry,“ said Oslo's unknown-but-shouldn't-be savior. I will help your misogynistic ass. Again.“
Oslo's eyes widen.
“Behind you!“
The lady of mystery spun around. The last surviving gangbanger was crawling back in through the window. He reached for the pistol held close to his abdomen by the waistband of his jeans. She beat him to the gun and snatched it from his pants. Yo-Yo (as if you needed any help figuring that one out) cocked back the hammer, pointed the firearm at the vato's head, and squeezed the trigger. The faceless corpse slumped to the ground.
“Let's go,“ Oslo's heroine ordered.
Yo-Yo grabbed The World's Smartest Cat by the scruff of his neck and stepped out onto the fire escape. With cat-like agility and grace she scaled a drainage pipe to the building's roof in an attempt to find safety.
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