#1 When Animals Attack STGOD
Posted: Fri Dec 30, 2005 7:56 am
He coughed softly in the cool night, the glowing tip of his cigar illuminating brighter as he took another drag. The soft glow lit up his face, showing a scar that trailed along the left side.
He watched the park across the street from his position. They were gathering. Damned felines. They had long ago wormed their way into the hearts and homes of man. It had given them protection unknown to most animals in this war of thrice-damned species. Along with the canines and the avians. How did they do it? A question he had long wondered. They gave nothing back to their human 'owners' and yet they were still served food and water from a silver dish, taken care of and provided for, protected from all sides it seemed.
He wrapped his flipper around his cigar as he brought it from his beak and tapped a bit of ash off the end. With his other flipper he adjusted the goggles that adorned his head and covered his eyes. With a small turn of a dial the image he was looking at zoomed in further. He put the cigar back in his beak and took another drag. Any minute now...
His flipper absently brushed over the scar on his face then went to the rifle at his feet. He hefted it and set it on the ledge. He lifted the goggles from over his eyes and squinted into the rifle scope.
His flipper slid into the trigger guard and pressed slowly against the trigger. He sighted his target out. One of the larger cats, full grown. A leader of a local group. His following was getting to big, to powerful. To many kittens had flocked to his side and grown into capable warriors under his teachings. It was going to end tonight.
He slowed his breathing, making it even as he pulled back the trigger. A soft hiss of the round escaping the muzzle, the gentle escape of gases. The silence round hit true. The feline fell backwards off the top of the fountain it had been speaking from. It fell into the fountain's waters, casting them a soft pink.
As soon as the shot was fired he pulled the gun down and started waddling away. Another of the drawbacks of his kind. Nearsightedness, slow land movement. He took another pull on his cigar as he reached the ladder. He hoisted himself over the edge, wrapped his flippers and slid downwards.
Once on the ground he waddled away as quick as he could. He blended in as a midget in a tuxedo heading towards a formal party at some uptown hotel. Stupid humans, never looking past their own noses half the time. The entire way he kept a constant lookout for his feline enemies. They were everywhere in a city this size.
He watched the park across the street from his position. They were gathering. Damned felines. They had long ago wormed their way into the hearts and homes of man. It had given them protection unknown to most animals in this war of thrice-damned species. Along with the canines and the avians. How did they do it? A question he had long wondered. They gave nothing back to their human 'owners' and yet they were still served food and water from a silver dish, taken care of and provided for, protected from all sides it seemed.
He wrapped his flipper around his cigar as he brought it from his beak and tapped a bit of ash off the end. With his other flipper he adjusted the goggles that adorned his head and covered his eyes. With a small turn of a dial the image he was looking at zoomed in further. He put the cigar back in his beak and took another drag. Any minute now...
His flipper absently brushed over the scar on his face then went to the rifle at his feet. He hefted it and set it on the ledge. He lifted the goggles from over his eyes and squinted into the rifle scope.
His flipper slid into the trigger guard and pressed slowly against the trigger. He sighted his target out. One of the larger cats, full grown. A leader of a local group. His following was getting to big, to powerful. To many kittens had flocked to his side and grown into capable warriors under his teachings. It was going to end tonight.
He slowed his breathing, making it even as he pulled back the trigger. A soft hiss of the round escaping the muzzle, the gentle escape of gases. The silence round hit true. The feline fell backwards off the top of the fountain it had been speaking from. It fell into the fountain's waters, casting them a soft pink.
As soon as the shot was fired he pulled the gun down and started waddling away. Another of the drawbacks of his kind. Nearsightedness, slow land movement. He took another pull on his cigar as he reached the ladder. He hoisted himself over the edge, wrapped his flippers and slid downwards.
Once on the ground he waddled away as quick as he could. He blended in as a midget in a tuxedo heading towards a formal party at some uptown hotel. Stupid humans, never looking past their own noses half the time. The entire way he kept a constant lookout for his feline enemies. They were everywhere in a city this size.