Part XLIII: The Cat's Out Of The Bag

Harry Guakomoli had left Oslo to his own devices, and that did not go well for The World's Smartest Cat. Yes, Oslo did escape the attempt on his life by La Diabla's goons, yet he was hoodwinked and scooped into a sack by the lovely, and lethal, Latina, Yo-Yo Ramirez. Oslo did his damndest to claw his way out of his prison, but the canvas proved to be too thick for the nails of the feline fury.

Yo-Yo tied the bag shut with a leather strap while Oslo screeched and screamed and called his captor every colorful epithet he, and you, could imagine (which were many!).

The lady ass-kicker ignored the foul-mouthed feline. In the last six months she had grown accustomed to his filthy mouth. There was very little, if anything, Oslo could say to Yo-Yo that would phase her. She stashed him in the backpack and strapped it to her.curvaceous body.

Oslo was feeling a bit nauseous; stench of cat piss and puke was strong, stifling, in his canvas prison. His eyes stung due to the noxious vapors. He felt his captor begin to move, first horizontally then vertically. They were on the roof. Though the backpack's contents muffled much of the.surrounding sounds, it did not completely obstruct Oslo's hearing (him being a.fucking cat and all). He heard something in the distance, and as the sound became louder and louder The World's Smartest Cat deduced it was the whirring of a helicopter.

A fucking helicopter?! thought Oslo. La cucaracha said she knew people but a fucking helicopter? Who is this bitch?

Yo-Yo boarded the chopper. She said something to a man, presumably the pilot, and he yelled something back, but the former sidekick couldn't make out what was said over the roar of the aircraft's blades. The chopper departed and flew through the air for what Oslo guessed was about ten minutes before setting down at some unknown locale.

Yo-Yo was on foot and on the move again traveling through what seemed like a labyrinth. Then the movement stopped, and The World's Smartest Cat felt the backpack that kept him trapped slip off the back of the Latina and set down on the ground.

"The cat's inside a sack," said Yo-Yo. "I'm going to take a shower while you prep him for the doctor."

"I'm going to miss watching you in hot pants on the surveillance cameras," a gruff voice replied.

"Be careful releasing him," the Latina said coldly. "Or he may bite off another finger."

"Bitch."

The World's Smartest Cat heard the unzipping of a backpack before the sack, with him in it, was lifted out of it. More traveling accompanied by heavy footsteps on concrete. The thud, the creak, of a heavy metal door. Oslo was placed on the ground, and his canvas prison felt looser.

Oslo determined that the strap that was keeping the sack closed had been untied enough so that with some effort the feline was able to free himself. He inhaled deeply, ecstatic that he no longer had to breathe in the noxious fumes of his own bodily fluids. The former sidekick scanned the room as he did so. It.was roughly twenty feet long and just as wide and nearly a dozen feet tall. The floor was cement, and two of the walls were made of cinder blocks. The other two were comprised of metal panels as was the ceiling. One of the cinder walls contained a metal door as did the opposing metal one. In the center of the floor was a large grate covering a hole leading to who knows where.

A half dozen metal constructs flew around Oslo. They resembled birds, each with an egg-shaped body about the size of a large human head. Their "wings" were series of tubes clamped together (Oslo could not determine how the robots, for lack of a better term, were able to fly). Instead of legs the.constructs had two thick metal.stems and in lieu of talons each stem ended in three nozzles. Their "heads" were the same size.and shape as softballs. An antenna sat atop each one. There was no beak, but instead each robobird was equipped with a camera lens.

"What the fuck is this shit?!" Oslo demanded to know.

The birds answered with thirty-six blasts of water, one from each talon nozzle, aimed directly at The World's Smartest Cat. The water was hot, nearly scalding, and the pressure was so high Oslo was unable to move. All he could do was hiss and curse (and you can bet your ass there were excessive amounts of each!). The water quickly changed to jets of blue liquid dish soap, slicking the four-legged fury in a goopy, yet relatively nice-smelling, mess. The nozzles returned to spraying Oslo with water, rendering the feline fully lathered. Eventually the water washed away the soapy bubbles. The water ceased and was replaced with hot air. After a few minutes The World's Smartest Cat was dry and squeaky clean.

"I'm gonna kill all you muthafuckas!" Oslo shrieked as he attempted to jump and swat at the cleaning robobirds, but each of the flying constructs hovered just out of his paws' reaches. They retaliated by shooting plumes of a mysterious mustard-colored gas. Then Oslo became woozy. He stopped pouncing and rolled onto his back. The World's Smartest Cat was euphoric as he inhaled his most favorite thing in the world. More than Nutter Butters. More than malt liquor.

"Fuuuuuuck," Oslo purred as laid splayed out on the cement floor.

The World's Smartest Cat noticed a hulking brute enter the room through the door in the cinder wall. The man was dressed in dark combat fatigues and a gas mask. He clutched something crimson in his right hand. Oslo didn't give a shit why the man was there even as he lumbered toward the feline.

"You clean me up and get me high?" asked the former sidekick. "This is one fucked up abduction, man."

The man said nothing and instead affixed a crimson collar around the neck of The World's Smartest Cat. It had three small metal ovals in the front. The intoxicated Oslo did nothing to resist. The man walked back toward the door.

"You don't wanna stay and party, man?" the feline asked in disbelief. "This shit is the bomb."

The man evidently was not interested in partying because he took his leave without uttering a word, closing the door as he exited. The robobirds stopped emitting their gaseous bliss, and the ceiling vents roared to life and began to take the intoxicating fumes out of the room. Soon every last puff was goneand Oslo laid spread eagle in the middle of the room as he drooled.

"Oh my fuckness," he moaned with half-shut eyes.

A loud click emanated through the room, and the metal wall's door swung open seemingly on its own.

I'm just high and stupid enough to walk through the door without even thinking about it, thought The World's Smartest Cat.

And Oslo did just that, stepping through the door without a care in the world. He entered a room of roughly the same size as the last. The walls were of metal panels save for the cinder one it shared with the first. In the back center of the room was a square red rug, and on the rug was a brown leather easy chair.
Sitting in the chair sat a woman with Coke bottle glasses with her legs crossed. She was young; Oslo guessed her age was in the late teens or early twenties. Her long straight hair was blonde, nearly white, except for the fuchsia streak that covered the left half of her face. The lady was of fair complexion, the rash of acne on either cheek not withstanding. She wasn't chubby per se, but it was clear she never got rid of her baby fat. The girl was clad in a rose-colored baby doll dress, white knee high stockings, and black maryjanes. A pristine white lab coat hung loosely on her frame. The lady's left hand, her short finger nails a glossy black, gripped a metal dowel with a small red button affixed to the top. The other hand held a wine cooler. For those interested parties the flavor was "a very berry explosion."

To the seated woman's right was a round end table. A lamp and coaster rested atop it. The lamp produced enough light to render Oslo's night vision useless. To the left stood the woman Oslo knew as Yo-Yo Ramirez. Any remaining traces of makeup had vanished and her long dark hair was straightened and pulled back into a tight ponytail. A sensible long-sleeved black t-shirt left much to the imagination, as did the loose-fitting blue jeans. Oslo thought they looked rather comfortable as far as clothes go. She was, however, wearing the same black sneakers from her lady ninja ensemble.

"So we meet again, la cucaracha," The World's Smartest Cat hissed as he bared his fangs. "Bonzai!"

There is a saying you can't teach an old dog new tricks. It seems the same can be said about loud-mouthed alcoholic cats. Otherwise Oslo may have realized earlier in the night with his brief scuffle with The Guak that announcing an attack before commencing said attack was unwise. He took two leaps toward the Latina before the girl in the chair pressed the button on the dowel. The three metal ovals on his collar popped open, kept on the restraint with hinges. A small nozzle emerged from each hole made visible with the shifted ovals. Gas, the same kind the robobirds sprayed on him in the first room, blasted the former sidekick squarely in the face. The World's Smartest Cat instantly found himself once again on cloud nine. He stopped in his tracks and began rolling around the cement floor in ecstasy.

"What the fuck?" asked Oslo as he became incredibly light-headed,

"It's nepeta cataria," the seated girl replied with a smirk.

"Bullshit," The World's Smartest Cat retorted. "It's fuckin' catnip."

"Indeed it is, Bailey," she said as she giggled. "Spliced with Tetrahydrocannabinol and a few other goodies. Now let us see if we can have a calm rational discussion."

The lady removed her thumb from the red button. The nozzles stopped blasting and withdrew back into the red collar strapped around Oslo's neck. The metal ovals slid back into place.

"This is all kinds of fucked up," Oslo remarked. "Tell me what you want, nerdette."

"It's been such a long time," replied the nerdette before taking a sip from the bottled wine cooler. "I thought it would be nice if we could catch up on what we have both been up to these past ten years, Bailey."

"Who the fuck are you? And who the fuck's Bailey?"

"Oh, my!" she exclaimed in delight. "I can't believe after all these years the memory suppressor chip still works!"

The young woman chugged the rest of the wine cooler and set the empty bottle on the coaster. She wiped the bright pink remnants of her alcoholic beverage from her lips and chin before reaching into one of the coat's pockets and pulling out an unopened bottle of Fifi Brothers' A Very Berry Explosion.

"Could you please open this, Rosalita?" she asked Yo-Yo as she extended the bottle toward the her.

The Latina grabbed the bottle and while keeping her attention Oslo, twisted the cap off of the wine cooler and handed it back to the young lady in the easy chair.

"Thank you," said the seated girl.

Yo-Yo, Rosalita, whoever, played with the bottle cap with her right hand. Oslo figured that even that tiny piece of metal would be deadly in the lady ninja's possession.

"To answer your questions," said the girl in the lab coat after sipping from her new beverage. "You are Bailey, and I am Veronika Krieger."

"I was a witness to your creation."