MISSING PERSONS - PART I

We turn our heads to check on Jun, not wanting to believe where the question really came from.

He’s staring across the room, over our hunched bodies, slowly becoming aware of his nakedness in front of an expanding audience.

He’s got underwear and a bedsheet, he’ll be fine.

“Hrrrrr...” less of a trill and more of a low growl emanates from the direction we dare not look, “when was a ‘first’ date?”

“Nya’lah?”

I still don’t look, only turning my head enough to keep Meganie fixed on me, but my peripheral vision confirms the presence of others in the room.

Vulturous silhouettes ready to swoop.

She hisses her affirmation, “Yesssss~”

Stop cowering. Die like a man.

I stand up in my unfashionable rubber suit and gaze unto the feline face of death. Her mane full of static and her tail swishing with anger.

Rex is by her side. Tail wagging with vim.

Good boy.

“Hi Rex.” I try to delay my sentence.

“Hi Ken.” He plays his part in keeping me alive.

“Ny’answer me!” It doesn’t work.

“Technically...” I resign myself to the slaughter, only wishing I had a blindfold and cigarette to ease my passing, “...we’ve been on a few.”

Meganie comes to my side, a unified front against the very real threat to life a furious Lioness poses. Nya’lah’s wrath shifts its focus to the mousy scientist, and a dominance display ensues.

I take Rex and join Jun on the bench in his cell. Locking us in behind the bulletproof glass.

For safety.

The girls go tit-for-tat.

“We just got back from a long weekend where we stayed in the same room.” Score one for Meganie.

“Mrrrr... but Nya’lah has slept with the Daemahken... twice.” She pauses to emphasise the number of times, counting on her fingers, and throwing up a V-sign, so I guess that’s two points to the catgirl.

Meganie glares at me then counters. “Well, I've known him longer and been on more missions with him too!” True, not much of a win, but I guess they’re even now.

“Quantity is ny’othing!” the feline fires back with a surprisingly profound point, “Our time together has been superior, defeating enemies side by side, acquiring allies like the cah’ninne that follows me.” she almost purrs the last, deep and seductive, “Krrrrr... we are bonded!”

The guys look at me like I’m some kind of Casanova, but I call fowl on Nya’lah for overstating things. “No points for hyperbole!”

The warrior bristles and her opponent capitalises, “Ken has made me underwear and bikinis and pretty dresses and given me gifts like this!” Meganie swings round the case of containing she’s been wearing like a sling bag, and opens it to show off the pocket dimensions within.

OK, that just made me sound like a pervert, but...that reminds me!

I lean out the cell for a second, “Nya’lah, stick your hand in, there’s a present for you!”

I can hear the heavy clang of funeral bells, a dark cloud forming about the scientist as she’s forced to let her competition claim a prize from within her own.

Technically, Rex was a gift to Nya’lah as a therapy dog too. Remembering how much Mia helped Kia with her PTSD, and Rex’s first owner being a space-marine, it's basically a match made in heaven. Just has a rocky start, what with the fighting like, well... cats and dogs.

All I’ve given Meganie is kinda materialistic by comparison, but I get that it might mean more to her, considering she’s never had anything to express any individuality with before.

“Sorry, Anie, you’re still on equal point-” the Lioness retrieves the gun from the case of containing and yowls with excitement.

Didn’t realise she liked weapons that much!

“Ny’ohoho! Nya’lah was right! We are bonded!” she actually jumps for joy like some dystopian jazzercise middle-schooler.

What did I just do?

“What do you mean, Nya’lah?” I ask tentatively, with a firm grip on the cell door, “How are we bonded?”

She primps herself and struts past the still frozen Meganie, spinning the loaded handgun on her finger like a victorious cowgirl.

“Mrrrrr... Nya’lah accepts the Daemahken’s feelings!” she drapes herself over me, “With this gift we ny’are betrothed~”

What the hell did I just do?!.

Everyone in the room erupts at her words...

“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST DO?!.”

Icy terror floods my veins at the death stares from Meganie and Jun. My new cellmate, jealous for very different reasons to his torturer. Although... I would be lying if I didn’t admit to a little elation at the prospect of having a hot warrior catgirl as my lover.

Only Rex looks at me with kindness from the stalls, “Congratulations, Ken.”

“Thanks Rex.” my response automatic at the robot-dog’s earnest monotone well wishing, “Wait, no, I mean, how? What?!.”

As combat ensures, with two people trying to kill me for rubbing such a happy moment in their faces, and a third keeping me alive by brandishing a gun at the others, the room falls into chaos.

Through the carnage and screams, I manage to claw snippets of explanation from Nya’lah.

It turns out the Feh’linne give the gift of a weapon to those they wish to court as a sign that the suitor is willing to protect them. The bonded pair must put the life of their mate above their own in all instances, like how she did with her younger sister Mao’lah. However, if they are separated, the gifted weapon is always there to protect one's beloved from harm. A proxy for their partner. An extension of their love.

WHAT THE ACTUAL F&#% HAVE I DONE?!.

“Wait!” my mind racing for some kind of loophole in the tribal logic to get me out of this, at least until I’m ready for such responsibility, “Don’t you have to give me a weapon too? Y’know, to prove your love!”

Everybody halts, Jun still only in his boxers; Meganie sweating inside her hazmat suit, the screen of which completely misted over; Rex napping on the cell floor, because he never got involved.

“Ny’oh yeah!”

The tension partially defuses.

Nya’lah retracts her claws from the others throats and skips off to find me something dangerous... in more ways than one.

Rex wakes and follows after, stopping in the doorway to give me a bit of advice.

“Make hay while the sun shines...” I stare at him dumbfounded, so he rephrases, “...she still smells fertile-”

Meganie screams and throws an empty vial at the robot-therapy-dog, but the automatic doors close too quick behind his wagging tail.

Jun retreats to his holding cell, slams the door, wraps himself in a blanket, and mumbles something about me being ‘womanising scum’ and a ‘needless show-off’...

This has to stop.