This is Not America (Macavity's Baddies and Co.)

[Kitrina]

This was not what she signed up for.

England was supposed to be filled with glory, scones, tea, walks along the shore, being accepted into Chris’s family, not being kicked to the curb, having him join up with that albino scumbag, and not getting treated like shit. And that fucking name. Coalie—who the hell calls someone Coalie? And the fucking wardrobe change…

Someone was gonna die. Mainly the person who thought mini-dresses were a good idea, especially the ones that barely covered your damn ass. At least she was able to wear the damn combat boots with them. That way, she could kick that albino slob in the nuts. Hard.

… and be killed in the process. Fucknuts. Tempting, still. But she couldn’t leave Christopher alone.

With an irritated growl, she kicked at the curb she walked along, keeping her balance with ease, paws gripping at the sides of the dress as if to tug it away from her body, head low. Fucking looking like a prostitute, God, that was essentially what they were making her, wasn’t it? Like hell they’d succeed in getting her to spread her legs for any other tom than Chris, and he was always so gentle, always had her on top as if to make sure she was safe.

But damn it, she was safe with him, couldn’t he see that, damn it?

A groan was offered as she glanced to the side of the alley and shuffled a bit faster. The sensation of unease was hitting her, maybe it was the few alley cats who eyed her, a few licked lips, some cat calls, maybe it was something else. She wasn’t sure, but her pace increased, not to a run but a long striding walk.

Was that a sound behind her?

If she looked back, it would mean confrontation. So she walked even faster. Definitely a sound. She’d take them head on but… how many were there? Were they armed in any fashion? God damn it, Chris!

Her eyes lowered to the ground, studying the cast of her shadow, which soon was joined by another. Shit. Eyes closing, she stopped dead in her tracks, kicking hard behind her, listening to the sound of contact, the resounding pain, before she took off at a run, sounds accompanying her, the echoes making their numbers feel multiplied. She wouldn’t slow. She couldn’t.

The next turn down a smaller alley caught her eye, much like the canister and barbed wire ahead of her. They wanted badass, they’d get it.

The sprint was given, launching onto the canister before leaping and letting out a yowl, the slight tear of her dress, and the scraping down her thighs. Landing hard, disoriented, she staggered forth, trying to run, but it was too hard. Another corner was turned before she sank down, back against a brick wall, eyes shut, breathing heavily. Lovely… 23 and dying in this shit hole of a country because of a stupid scrape. Motherfucker.

[Fangor]

You'd have to be deaf to not hear the commotion from the alley, though it'd take a distinguished talent to smell the metallic hint of blood. Tracking down that blood was easy once he got on the scent, Pollicles and Pekes be damned.

Turning left, he observed the scene before snorting. "This is why queens shouldn't go off on their own."

He squatted before her, lip tugged up on the right side in a smirk, thoroughly amused.

[Kitrina]

She didn't need to see his face to know who was speaking to her, and if she had a choice she would have looked away, anything but have eye contact with the fucker though not like she had a choice. Dying would be preferable, but it wasn't up to her. There was Christopher to think about.

A groan sounded as she stalled, a moment to think of a comeback, any sort of answer.

"You going to give me a paw or what?"

Maybe not as defiant as she would have liked, but the fatigue was setting in.

[Macavity]

He liked to patrol.

Walking around town and snaking through alleyways without a true destination point was one of the joys Macavity indulged in. Sometimes he'd bring a hench cat along for conversation and companionship, and other times he'd find that he, himself, made the best walking partner. It was a nice day to be out, according to him, and took advantage of this to its extent.

He didn't expect to run into anyone, especially not Fangor and some broad in an alleyway. He'd heard the commotion before he reached them, and as he approached with his hands deep in his pockets, his ears were perked attentively. Macavity paused a couple strides away from the duo, observing for a split moment before making his presence known. "What's this?"

[Kitrina]

Kitrina offered a soft sound in response to Macavity's question as she strained to keep her eyes open, that fatigue there. She felt far too small, angrily below Fangor and now with this beast here--

Wait, what?

Her eyes widened a bit further as she took in Macavity's appearance, stunned for a moment. What the hell was Macavity doing out here?! Instinctively, she turned her leg, then thankful for the short and somewhat torn dress as the M-insignia would be there should he not know her. Wasn't as if she were part of the gang. Just "Chris's Bitch" as they put it, the blood from the hard scrape down the barbed wire still wet and fresh, some of the fur torn up over flesh.

[Fangor]

"My lord," Fangor said by instinct, lowering his head in a half-bow to the other, the utmost respect coming through before he lifted it. "Little American Coalie decided to go for a walk. Don't know what the bitch did to her legs." Nor did he particularly care since she was essentially useless to his gang, and a nuance at that. She was attractive, but most things were attractive to Fangor, and her combative nature was amusing, especially when he'd mention Chris.

Maybe he could ask Mac a favor to knock the bitch off. Musta been someone.

"Chris's bitch," he added, for clarification, a roll of his eyes offered before he turned his head, paw to his mouth as he coughed hard, a few flecks of blood speckling his white fur. He looked at it, turning his palm over, before wiping it off on Kitrina's dress. Bitch was bloodied already, and who cared if he took the liberty to cop a feel.

[Macavity]

Macavity made no move to help her up, or any indication that he recognized, had heard of her, or understood what Fangor implied. If anything, he gave a noncommittal 'mm' sound, taking in the scene quietly. He glanced at the white cat as he coughed, his eyes then settling on Kitrina, narrowed slightly. "Mind yourself, Fangor," he warned. "None of that."

As observant as he was, he did notice the M almost the moment it was exposed. This caused him to flick his tail, as if checking off something on a list. "Get up," he commanded, reaching down to Kitrina. "Up. Can you stand?"

[Fangor]

To say he was stunned was an understatement as Fangor himself took a step back from the pair, careful to keep his eyes lower. He would never stare Macavity down straightly. Instead, he'd watch as he patted his pockets for a bit of nip, some sort of bag or something needing to be around. He never was without.

[Kitrina]

When there was an order, one obeyed. Well, that is if the one giving orders was Macavity, and your mate worked for him somewhat indirectly, and you worried about your mate's safety, and your own. There was a sense of self-preservation.

She pressed one paw to the ground, taking the other without hesitation with a grip as she strained and pulled herself to her feet, although unsteady. More bloodloss than she thought, but if she was standing she couldn't be dying the way she feared she was before. Her head was light, dizzy, and she had to close her eyes, lowering her head to the ground not out of respect for Macavity but to keep the ground from spinning and stay upright, and it was tiring to keep her eyes open.

But she had to try as she lifted her head and looked Macavity in the eye. "I'm fine. I can stand by myself." Words uttered only seconds before her knees started to buckle and instinctively she grabbed onto his arm for a little more support. Mafia leader be damned to hell.

[Macavity]

"Yes, you stand with the confidence of a leaf," he replied smoothly, gripping her arm to help her balance. "Tight rope walkers would be jealous."

He allowed her to try to find her feet again, but when gravity pulled her back down, it was all the proof he needed. It was also the excuse he needed, not that he ever required one for anything. "Fangor," he murmured, loud enough to hopefully catch the albino's attention. "Help support this woman." No eye contact was made with his scruffy hench cat, as he was far too busy arranging Kitrina's arm over his shoulder for balance. With a mark like that on her leg and her appearance, he knew he had to get her back to one of his hideouts, and fast.

[Fangor]

What?
... What?
... What the FUCK?!

He was HELPING the bitch?! ... HELPING her for being stupid and getting caught on barbed wire?! He didn't care about what could have caused her to run, or to attempt the jump, skeevy cats never troubled him. He'd fight them, and generally win even though he was left with prized battle scars.

But an order was an order.

The end of his tail twitched, a light thump as he moved her arm over his shoulder, one hand moving to her waist before he looked at Macavity. "I can carry her if you'd wish, my lord."

[Kitrina]

Had she not been feeling so woozy, and were this any other cat, she'd have bit back something nasty; a simple 'fuck you' would not have sufficed. But now, he was helping her and she was consequentially at Macavity's mercy. And Fangor's. God damn. And Fangor would be expecting some sort of favor but like hell she'd give him that sort of favor, diseased freak.

With the support, her body relaxed instantly, and she was thankful for being tall as, even though she was shorter than the other two, it made the support balanced more easily. Cat crutches.

Maybe Fangor at least would let her wear some god damn jeans.

[Macavity]

While it would be nice to have Fangor take over for the girl, Macavity knew better than to leave him alone with anyone for an extended amount of time, especially the wounded. His gut told him that she had information he'd be interested in, and it was important to keep her alive and well. Fangor knew her, it appeared, and knew her well. That was interest enough.

"No." He glanced to the cat, then gave a cautionary look over his shoulder. "We'll take her to the warehouse. Can't linger around any longer." The warehouse he mentioned wasn't too far off, and housed the majority of his drug paraphernalia and other illegal items for dealing. While a risk to bring her there and be seen in the light of day, he was willing to take it. "Let's go."

[Fangor]

Fine. Warehouse. Like he cared, and maybe he could get a new nip fix or something. It was rough, maybe he could pick up a fight. Sometimes that was a great vocational hobbie. Fighting, really. Instead, what he could do was fall in stride alongside the younger queen. She was nothing but a problem as far as he was concerned. Definitely not one of them and she didn't break the way he'd assume she would have.

[Kitrina]

And so, she'd proceed forth with him. They could have killed her on the spot, so, unfortunately, there was the concrete knowledge she had that she needed to make sure she was compliant, didn't piss off the big man, and walked fast. Or as fast as she could. Though weak, with the weight supported by then, her head was too fuzzy to process everything and it seemed quicker. She almost wanted to laugh. Or cry. Maybe both, similar reactions.

[Macavity]

Navigating with Kitrina hanging onto him and Fangor was proving to be cumbersome. She was nearly a deadweight, even if she tried to walk. Macavity kept his ears perked and listened for any sort of trouble as he lead them into an alleyway that was an easy shortcut to the warehouse. Sure enough, there it was. They had only practically walked into it.

Macavity's hand dove into his pocket, finding a small ring of keys and it took him a few seconds to find the correct one and get it open. From there, he took Kitrina and Fangor through the musky darkness, past both marked and unmarked crates and down below into a sort of basement.

[Kitrina]

Kitrina staggered with each step before she looked around, becoming more wary by the minute. Considerably more weak, more fatigued.It was exhausting. And slow. This trip to her death...

Of that, she was certain.

[Fangor]

Fangor shifted her weight with a grunt. Chris was going to have to deal with it. Big time. Pleased? Definitely not. He was downright furious.