Part XLII: Escape From The Barrio!

Harry Guakomoli had decided to spare the life of The World's Smartest Cat, and Yo-Yo had saved it a mere two hours later. But Oslo did not recognize the comely Miss Ramirez due to her over-sized hooded sweatshirt and bandana that masked the bottom half of her face. Yo-Yo's yoga pants were form-fitting enough that the former sidekick may have been able to identify the Latina by the shape of her bottom (Oslo never forgets an ass), yet alas her shapely posterior was covered by the baggy sweatshirt. No, all Oslo knew of his mysterious savior was a vaguely familiar voice and her ability to kill gangbangers with little effort.

Oslo and Yo-Yo escaped the building by exiting the apartment through an open window and scurrying up to the roof. The feline saw Yo-Yo sprint then leap about a dozen feet to the neighboring building. She turned toward Oslo and motioned for him to follow suit.

"Uh, no," Oslo told his heroine while shaking his head. "I don't fuckin' think so."

"Don't be such a fraidey cat," Yo-Yo said, her voice muffled due to the face covering.

"Real fuckin' funny," responded The World's Smartest Cat.

"Look," said an annoyed Yo-Yo. "Your building is surrounded by a lot of those Los Fuegos Pollos guys, and they're about to set it on fire. Stop being a pussy and be a cat."

"I soooo fuckin' hate you right now. And I'm turned on."

Yo-Yo grunted in disgust, and that made Oslo smile. He mentally declared himself the winner of that round. He charged toward the building's edge and pounced to Yo-Yo. The cat soared through the air. His front paws grabbed the side of the building, and found himself slipping. Yes, Oslo was The World's Smartest Cat, but by no stretch of the imagination was he the most graceful. Months of inebriated grief and laziness had caused the foul-mouthed four-legged fury to forget much of his instinctive agility. Oslo lost his grip, but luckily for him Yo-Yo grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and pulled him to safety.

"I did it!" Oslo exclaimed. "Well, I almost fuckin' did."

"Fantastic. Now there are only about ten more of these to go."

"Oh, fuck no," said Oslo.

"Oh, fuck yes," Yo-Yo retorted. "It will get easier over time. Come."

Yo-Yo took off running to build momentum for the next jump. Oslo sighed and followed the shadowy figure. The pair hopped from building to building for the next fifteen minutes, and the Latin beauty was right; each jump caused The World's Smartest Cat to lose more and more of the rust. But damn was it taking its toll!
Oslo stopped after the two leaped to the eighth building. The cat was out of breath.

"Wait! Wait!" the feline called to Yo-Yo between gasps.

Yo-Yo stopped and turned around.

"We don't have a minute," she said. "We have to leave the barrio immediately."

"I don't HAVE to do anything," snapped the former sidekick. "Thanks for savin' me, but you're not my boss. I'm safe now and a fuckin' cat. I can go anywhere."
 
"You're not the least bit interested in who saved you and why?"

"Sure I am, but there's an old saying about cats and curiosity. And I don't wanna find out if that shit's true."
"It's true that I can't force you to do anything," agreed Yo-Yo. "But I know people. People that know where The Guak is, and what he's up to. Your friend has abandoned the barrio. There's nothing left for you here either."

"You're not playing fair," Oslo replied with a hint of sadness. "But you're right. And you're a bitch."

"I know," the woman said flatly. "Grab a hold of the back of my sweatshirt, and I'll get us out of here. Be careful not to scratch me."

Without comment Oslo jumped onto the shoulders  of Yo-Yo and did his best to stick the sweatshirt with his claws while not embedding them into her mocha-hued flesh. As he did he felt something hard under the dark hoodie.

"We have one quick stop to make first," Yo-Yo said as she started to sprint. She jump, bounded, and flipped her way over three more buildings before dropping down to a fire escape landing. Yo-Yo peered into the window of the dark living room of her barrio apartment. Though for the past six months she had been living with The World's Smartest Cat, a few times a week, when Oslo was too shit-faced to remain conscious, the lovely Latina would slip away to check up on things and...make reports. Yo-Yo did not observe any movement so she opened the window and quietly stepped inside. The woman blindly made her way to a corner with a lamp.

"Oh, shit!" Oslo yelled as Yo-Yo turned on the lamp. "We're not alone!"

Yo-Yo was grabbed from behind. A pair of hands gripped her sweatshirt.

"You picked the wrong place to rob, puta," a member of Los Fuegos Polos said as he pulled Yo-Yo toward him and pinning Oslo between them.

"Motherfucker!" The World's Smartest Cat uttered as he was smothered.
 
Yo-Yo had neither the leverage nor the angle to strike the gangbanger so she wiggled out of the sweatshirt, revealing the black t-shirt and Kevlar vest she wore underneath. Her long black hair was tied back into a ponytail. Yo-Yo delivered a spin kick to her attacker's chest. He was set flying and hit a wooden coffee table. The table split and splintered.

The man groaned as Yo-Yo slowly walked to him. She bent over and grabbed a leg of the table that had broken off from the body. It had splintered as well and ended at a sharp point. The lady straddled the gangbanger, raised the stake above her head, and drove it into his throat.

Oslo watched the fight go down. And as he stared at the mystery woman's shapely bottom jiggle and shake in her tight pants The World's Smartest Cat finally figured out his savior's identity.
 
"Oh my fuckness!" yelled Oslo. "La cucaracha?!"

"Call me 'cockroach' again," Yo-Yo warned. "And I will crush you like one."

"Okay," Oslo replied after an audible gulp.

Yo-Yo stood and faced The World's Smartest Cat. Her face, chest, torso, and right lower armor were covered in the blood of the vato she had just killed.

"I need to wash myself and pack some things before we go," said Yo-Yo. "There's some tequila on the kitchen counter. Help yourself."

Oslo's nerves were shot. He was stressed out and becoming hung over. Hair of the dog sounded exactly what the cat needed. He trotted off to drown his sorrows.

Yo-Yo walked over to a short wooden case with rows of compact discs. She pushed it aside revealing a safe in the wall. Yo-Yo quickly executed the combination and opened the door. She pulled out a sleek black rectangular device. She pressed a small button on the side and a screen lit up with a touch pad. Yo-Yo entered a password, accessed the contacts menu, and selected Delta. She then pressed call on the screen and held the device to her ear and mouth.

"This is Paragon 9696," Yo-Yo uttered. "Felix and I are at Ramirez. Hostiles in the vicinity but not an immediate threat. Extraction requested."

Yo-Yo stood silently for about a minute.

"Fifteen minutes? Understood," she stated into the phone before ending the call.

Yo-Yo withdrew a backpack from the safe and then stacks of twenty dollar bills. She stuffed the money into the bag with the phone, a semi-automatic pistol, a few nasty-looking knives in sheaths, and a leather sleeve that contained more throwing stars.

Yo-Yo walked to the bathroom, flipped on the light switch, and stared into the mirror. She examined the blood on her face and body and a slight sadistic smirk emerged. The woman was excited to see action again. It had been far too long. She wished she had time to take a shower, but the lady didn't even have time to change into clean clothes. Yo-Yo wetted a wash cloth and quickly wiped off as much of the blood as she could.

Enough of the sticky viscous fluid was removed to satisfy Yo-Yo so she walked back into the living room.

"¡Ariba ariba andele andele!" Oslo could be heard yelling from the kitchen as he chugged the tequila. A loud thundrous belch followed.

That cat is a pig, Yo-Yo thought to herself. She looked around the room and was happy that her role as a hood rat was finally coming to an end.

Yo-Yo reached into the safe and pulled out a clean black hoodie and a canvas sack. She put on the sweatshirt and zipped up. It was barely big enough to fit over the Kevlar vest. With sack in tow she strolled into the kitchen. In ten minutes The World's Smartest Cat had gone from stone cold sober to super soused. The bottle of Cuervo that had been full was empty and Oslo was laying in his own piss and puke.

"Sorry I didn't respect you, chica," Oslo mumbled to the Latina. "But even in those clothes you're muy caliente."

"Gracias, Senor Gato," Yo-Yo purred as she slipped into her Hispanic accent and approached the feline.

Oslo didn't see it coming. Maybe it was because he was piss drunk. Or that Yo-Yo had once again resumed her hood rat persona. Probably it was both. Regardless, The World's Smartest Cat was caught off-guard when Yo-Yo scooped him up into the canvas sack.