high jinks in low places [pg-13]

[Pyro]

HIGH JINKS IN LOW PLACES
being the adventures of 'doc' holliday elkstep during his time in mexico
-----------------

SHOT ONE:
DESPERATE DESPERADO

Killing was easy.
Dealing with the consequences? Not so much.
Since leaving Kate, Holliday's exploits seemed only to increase. There was no questioning whether or not he'd settle down: any kit who'd heard of the swashbuckling tom would tell you in a heart beat that a quiet life was no life for 'Doc' Holliday. But things were wearing on him. He spent many a night lying awake, too scared for his own skin to dare to close an eye. A life living on the edge brought many enemies...and because he was not the type to murder entire families to prevent attempts at revenge, it seemed as though there was nary a cat without a vendetta against him in his current area of residence. For a dangerous outlaw, Holliday sure had a lot of loose ends.

And it was these loose ends that drove him to hop state lines. He couldn't stay in one place for too long because sooner or later, some hotshot tom lookin' to impress his lady-friend would come after him. Why, if that lovesick tom could kill the great Holliday, he'd have everyone at his feet. Unfortunately for most, Holliday was much harder to kill than they imagined. His nerves were as alert as a horse's, and he was more than enough, despite his small size, to take on loners who thought they were better than they ought to. Still, having a name as opposed to just having a name wasn't all it was cracked up to be, and she-cats were starting to wise up to dashing ol' Doc...and life on the run without she-cats did not appeal to the outlaw. As such, there was really only one thing for him to do:

He had to go to Mexico.

By truck. By train. By his own four feet. He made his way south toward that desert sanctuary...and instantly regretted it. Not only was it hot as Hades but food was so hard to come by it might as well have been extinct. At the very least though, no one had heard of him. He could finally be starving at peace.

For all of five days. The cats might not have known him, but trouble certainly did, and it was more than happy to get nice and cozy with long time friend, Holliday. Hungry and desperate for food, the tom was not above taking from twolegs when the opportunity presented itself. And that opportunity was not long in coming.

"Tan my hide and call me leather...I ain't never smelled somethin' so delicious in my entire life."

The smell was coming from a rundown bar located on the outskirts of a town. It was a shady place, even by cat standards, but Holliday was not to be deterred. He was freaking starving and he'd be damned if he let a few twoleggers get between him and a good meal. So, brazen as the sun is hot, he walked right into the bar. At first, no one noticed him. That was not to last though because the tom had a mind to go after the food on the tables. And how else do you get food on a table but by jumping onto that table?

The angry bar patrons swatted and made dives for the cat as it moved along the tables and bar, taking a nip of food here and a swig of beer there. But even as his mind started to cloud from the drinks, Holliday was still quick on his feet. He danced circles around the twolegs, dodging and ducking this way and that as they tried to capture him. It was futile for them to even try though. They were drunk. He was drunk...

But even drunk, Doc was still one canny sonuvabitch. Mexico'd better stay on its toes. Cause Holliday was here, and he "weren't takin' no prisoners."

[Pyro]

SHOT TWO:
BASURA
Holliday's fun in the bar was bound to end though, and end it did: with him in a dumpster and his wits scattered for the first time in his life.

You see, there is a reason cats are given water and cream as opposed to beer and rum. He wasn't quite sure when he passed out, but when he finally came to he was surrounded by...trash. The smell was revolting, but did much to clear his foggy head. He was aware of a light above, a dim light, and he moved toward it, clawing his way up through the bags of garbage that filled the over-sized trash bin he'd been tossed into. It occurred to him in these moments that the bar-goers must have thought he was dead, to be throwing him away.

"Guess they didn't know they were dealin' with Holliday. I don't die quite so easy."

His words were slurred and it was obvious he was not at his best. When he finally reached the dumpster opening he slumped over the edge to fall to the ground in a heap. Holliday hauled himself up to stand, swaying like a twoleg drunkard. Someone must have found this amusing, because a laugh, achingly loud to Holliday's pounding head, reached his ears. He stumbled toward the noise, bumping into a large tom (but seeing as Holliday was a small cat this wasn't saying much) whose fur was short and dark.

"Hola, gato basuro! You enjoy your time in the dumpster, eh?"

"Gato what-o?" Even in his half-assed state he could tell that was an insult.

"Gato basuro. Trash cat. You ain't from around here are you? A gringo eh?"

Holliday backed up, an impressive feat given how hard it was for him to remain standing, and fixed the dark cat with a hazel eye. He may not have been well-versed in spanish, but 'gringo' was one word he definitely knew. The closer he got to the border, the more he had heard it, until some cat had finally told him it meant 'foreigner'. Foreigner in the worst way. Now he knew he'd come to Mexico to get away from fighting and killing for a while...but this cat had insulted him. Twice. And that infamous Holliday grin, that devilish crooked smile, was slowly creeping its way across his face.

"Alright amigo. I'int come here fer trouble. But yer messin' with the wrong 'gato basuro'. You want a fight? I warrant I'd be happy to give you one, you insult me one more time."

"Woah, woah, easy there gringo. I'm only playin' with you'sall. Besides, you wouldn't want to mess with one of Antonio's soldiers, eh?"

"I'll mess with anyone that messes with me."

"Man you really aren't from around here if you hear the name 'Antonio' and don't run for cover." The dark cat eyed the small tom before him. He was a gringo...an a damned puny one at that. Still, when he wasn't so woozy he might prove useful to the militia. At the very least, he could clean out the dens. "Listen, gringo. I'll take you to Antonio and he'll get you on your feet here in Mexico. Keep you out of dumpsters, yeah?"

Holliday could tell this cat wasn't going to just let him walk away...and admittedly, he was curious as to who this 'Antonio' was.

"You got a name, gringo?"

"Holliday. But there's some that call me 'Doc'."

"Doc Holliday? You got a funny kind of name. But you're a funny kind of cat anyways."

"You keep talking like that, and you're gonna have a funny lookin' face by the time I'm through with you."

"Oh yeah, okay. You just remember not to talk like that to Antonio. He might like you for it. But then he might slit your throat for it too."

--------

The trip to the militia's head quarters allowed Holliday to walk off most of his hangover, but even so, next to Antonio he might as well have been the 'basuro gato' that Mario had grown too used to calling him when he wasn't addressing Holliday as 'Gringo'. Even the scar that ripped across Antonio's face was far more impressive than the many scars that Holliday had collected over the moons. Honestly, he'd never felt more like a dusty outlaw than then in that single moment, standing before Antonio with the militia lining the walls and blocking the exits. It was kind of badass in its own way, and terribly pathetic in another.

"So gringo," there went that lovely title again, "you come into my city. And you take my food. And you don't think to come to me? You don't think that I deserve respect? You know who I am?"

"Yer subordinate over there told me you're Antonio and that's about it. But I can't say I think much of a cat who don't show me none of the respect he expects me to give."

"You don't...?" Antonio laughed. Holliday remained silent. "Listen, gringo. I'm gonna give you a shot cause you new around here. 'An you ignorant. But I don't like ignorant so you better wise up. Mario you take your basuro gato 'an you show him the ropes or you 'an him are gonna hang from them." Again, Antonio laughed. This time, as if on cue, the rest of the militia laughed, and their laughter followed Holliday as he fell in behind Mario.

"I hope you learn quuuiiick gringoooo~"

[Pyro]

SHOT THREE:
DEMON IN WHITE/ANGEL IN DIRT
"Mario, what are we doin' here exactly?"

"We're waiting. Callate por favor, gringo."

"Waitin' fer what?"

"Man," that irritating way everyone seemed to pronounce man as 'mahgn', like there was a hook on the damn word, was really starting grate on his ears..."are you thick in d'head? You gotta be quiet. Silencio."

"You either tell me what I'm waitin' here for like a goddamn lamb for slaughter, or you're gonna find out just how loud I can be, savvy?"

Mario rolled his eyes. The gringo was more trouble than he was worth. "Alright, alright. We're waiting for Diabla Blanca, the White Demon, the Princess of Thieves."

Princess? Now that was something worth waiting for. Holliday grinned. Maybe this night wouldn't be a total bust after all. "Princess, huh? And how do you know she'll come?"

"Cause Antonio put some of his real good fighter over there by that alley. They're given a queen and her brat a little something to remember...that'll draw la princessa out real quick."

A queen and her...hold up. That cat did not just suggest what Holliday thought he just suggested. A princess was a fine thing indeed, that went without saying. But that didn't mean you needed to rough up women and children for her. That just wasn't right. And what kind of princess would take kindly to the mistreatment of her subjects?

"Hey Mario, I'm not so sure about this."

"Don't worry. I bet even you could take the princess on. She's beautiful, but she's still just a woman, gringo. I hear she runs a lot too. You just gotta be faster...but not too fast if you get my meaning." the dark tom winked.

Change of plans. A few quick, but hard, blows to the head and Holliday was laying Mario down to sleep. The small dust-colored ticked tabby made his way silently over to the alley Mario had been so kind to point out, eyes and ears alert. He didn't have to get too close to hear what they were saying, seeing as Antonio's boys were being their very loudest.

“...And you do not think Antonio has mouths to feed, Senorita?”

A second voice: “If you would rather, we shall take your daughter for the mouse instead. Antonio will find use for her in his ranks.”

A third, obviously the mother: “No! Just leave us alone! Have some compassion!”

“It’s a shame you already had kits...you aren’t so bad looking. But I don’t eat leftovers.”

“Or play with broken toys.” Laughter.

A fourth voice, deeper than all the rest. “Hah! I am not so picky. You are pretty enough for me.”

Alright the princess wasn't coming. And it looked like those bastard-ass pissants were going to do whatever it took to draw her out...or to pass the time until she came. He glanced around, trying to think of a plan. Fire escape. That would give him a height advantage if he could draw the toms after him, and he'd need every advantage he could get if it was three against one with no guarantee of help from the mother. He crept over to the side of the building, and hooked his claws on the mesh like material of the fire escape. He began to scale it slowly, jumping when necessary, and using the stairs when it wouldn't give him away to the three brutes below. Just when he found a spot he liked, a commotion started below. The sounds of a fight reached him easily, and he regretted trying to take the height advantage almost immediately. Holliday pounded down the steps of the fire escape, only to be shocked when he heard the sounds of the battle were coming on fast. The cats were coming toward him. He stopped and peered around a corner. A cat screamed its way off the side of the fire escape to fall with a sickening crunch at the bottom. Doc's eyes flashed up and there, perched precariously on the thin railing of the escape, was a white (if not a bit dusty) she-cat. Her ass could do with a bit of filling in, but she wasn't all bad looking. White pelt though...could she be the white demon Mario had been talking about?

“Your turn, sweetheart.”

Oooh no, he wasn't going to let one of those brutes push her over the edge. He stepped out from behind the corner, a dangerous crooked smile plastered on his face. "Or perhaps I can be of assistance."

All the cats seemed genuinely surprised to see him there, though the other toms would have certainly known he'd been waiting with Mario. Holliday took advantage of this and went on the attack immediately, throwing himself into one of the toms as they stood gaping at his sudden appearance. The tom he attacked lost his balance easily, and he and Holliday thudded painfully down the steps. The 'dusty outlaw' though, was not about to let go. He'd done worse than fall down a couple of stairs, and he wanted to make sure that he was on top when they reached the bottom because- CRACK. There went his opponent's neck.

He turned back toward the stairs again, hoping he could reach the white she-cat in time before she fell, but the sound of a hiss made him turn around again. Holliday had been wondering where the third tom had gone.

“Monster!” wait...where had she come from? “You do not want this queen! You never did! What would a meager mouse do for you and your filthy fat soldiers who terrorize this city? You have enough food to feed yourselves twice over!”

“Senorita, I wouldn’t open that pretty mouth if I were you! I am easily angered.”

“Then take your anger out on me. Look behind you. One of your friends is dead. His neck is broken. I have broken it,” she lifted her chin, “just as I will break yours with my teeth, as soon as you stop cowering behind that queen!”

“I’ve heard the stories, Senorita. You do not fight. You rely on stupid tricks. And then, you run.”

“I have no where to run this time. Come, mi amigo. Let us tango.”

The third tom abandoned the queen to leap for the white she-cat. Holliday watched as he pinned her easily, threatening to squeeze the life out of her with his sheer body weight. Holliday had been in her position before...and in the position of the tom...and he knew she didn't have a whole lot of time. He streaked across the alley to cannonball into the third tom's side, pushing him off the she-cat with momentum over body weight.

Once again, Holliday had the element of surprise. It was easy to rip the other tom's throat out while he was still trying to figure out what had knocked him over. The smaller tom spat on the body, a look of disgust on his face.

"Not sure who I don't like more, Antonio or his military dogs." He turned around to face the she-cat, who was picking herself up to gasp for air. "You're welcome there, miss...now if I may be so brash as to call in a favor, maybe you know a better way than these clods to find the Princess of Thieves."

"Princess?"

"-Of Thieves, yes."

“Ah, yes, the Princess. She only comes out during the night, when the rest of Amaranto’s team does their raids. Unfortunately you’ll probably never see her.”

Holliday groaned theatrically, swaying this way and that as he drew closer to the white she-cat, who wasn't so white anymore. “Now why’d you go an’ say that, sugar? Now I gotta see her even more. You know what they say: a tom always wants what a tom can't have."

“Well you can’t have her,” she grinned. “Tell me, hombre—what is your name?”

"Holiday, marm. Doc Holliday."

"Funny name for a funny cat."

"You know, I've been getting that lately. What about you, miss, what's your name? Somethin' pretty no doubt."

She hesitated. Holliday knew he wasn't imagining it either by the way her eyes flickered. Maybe she was the princess. "Essie."

"Well, Essie, can you take me to the Princess or does not even a pretty she-cat like yourself know her whereabouts?"

Essie nodded. "I know where she is. But you should just go. You need to leave before it reaches Antonio that you helped kill three of his best soldiers."

Now it was Holliday's turn to hesitate. He'd gotten himself in the exact situation he had been trying to avoid while in Mexico. He could run now...he could run and never turn back. But if that hadn't worked in America, why the hell should it work in Mexico? "Essie, I've been on the run most of my life, let me tell you, and one more cat that wants my bleedin' hide linin' his nest isn't going to make much of a difference. As far as I'm concerned, 'Antonio' can wait in line."

"Whatever you say, Holliday. I will show you where she lives, but first you need to do one last thing for me."

"And what's that?"

"You'll see."

[Pyro]

SHOT FOUR:
OF LOVE AND REVOLUTION
Holliday followed the white she-cat as she raced through shadowed alleys. The sun had long sunk below the horizon and a sort of excited energy filled the city. Street lamps flashed on, music could be heard, and the streets were full of new life. It was an interesting experience for Holliday, who had only known northern cities, in which activities seemed to slow down in wake of darkness.

The tom had been expecting them to head towards a place a place that was less crowded with twolegs. But it seemed as though they were heading deeper into the masses. Essie veered off to the right, suddenly to stop near the the wall of a condemned building, one of the few places void of life. She turned to face Holliday, a slight smile on her muzzle.

"I did not expect you to be able to follow. Many would bolt at the first sign of twolegs. You are determined then, to see the Princess of Thieves?"

"As ever. Was that little jaunt what you wanted me to do?"

"No. Ven aca."

Rolling his eyes, Holliday fell in behind Essie once again. She lead him to a hole around the back, and at once he could tell that the building was not quite as devoid of life as he first suspected. He could hear voices speaking, though he couldn't understand what they were saying. They seemed to be speaking spanish though, so it wasn't surprising that he couldn't. Essie obviously could by the way she was frowning at him.

"What?"

Frown.

"Whaaaat?"

"They are...talking about a gringo."

"...Well there's a lot of gringos around here right?"

"If we were closer to the border maybe."

"So they're talking about me."

"Only if you and about five others beat up one of Antonio's officers."

"Marm, the only time I've ever been together with five cats was when I was beating the crap out of them. And it weren't in Mexico neither."

"So you didn't beat up Mario?"

Shiiiiit. Shit. He knew he should of killed Mario instead of just laying him down for a nap. Cats wake up from naps, after all. Cats wake up from naps and go tell all their little buddies that Antonio's newest recruit did a number on an officer.

"...I might have given a cat who just happened to be named Mario a few knocks to the head...but I didn't necessarily beat him up. In a manner of speaking."

Essie groaned. "You should have killed him."

"You're telling me."

"Or not."

"Or not?"

The she-cat motioned for him to be quiet and he listened as the voices died down. As far as he could tell, a number of cats had left. Probably to search for him, and just the thought of them doing that when he was right under their noses was enough to make him grin. Essie remained silent for a few minutes before turning to him.

"This is the perfect chance to steal their food. I will go in first to find it and you will provide back up. I need to you be my look-out-wait. Holliday! Holliday, where are you going? Get back here. Get. Back. Here-" the rest of her words dissolved into a hiss of frustration. The damn gringo had gone in right after she had said she was going to go in first. Essie considered leaving him to whatever fate his stupidity wrought for him, but the tom had saved her life...and she didn't want to give up the raid for lost quite yet. Quietly, she followed after him.

"You get the food."

"Is that...an order? You think you can just-"

"Howdy partners!"

Essie shrunk back, remaining unseen as Holliday waltzed right into the middle of the small group of Antonio's soldiers. As far as distractions went, it was pretty good. The lot of them set on the tom at once, giving the she-cat the perfect window to steal the food. She started to make her way toward the store but stopped. It wouldn't do her any good to let Holliday die. As soon as they were done with him they'd notice that he hadn't come alone. And then they'd find the hole they'd snuck in through. She sighed.

"Hola, seniores."

"Mira! Es la Diabla!"

It was chaos from there: a hissing, spitting ball of cats. Every once in a while one would fall dead, and it was only a matter of time before one of those cats was Holliday or Essie. However, neither of them had a mind to die just yet and it wasn't long before the she-cat suggested they make a run for it. Better to live and fight another day than to die waiting to find out whether your heart or pride would be the first to give out. They broke away from the soldiers to run for the hole, but Holliday veered away to head for the store of food, ignoring Essie's infuriated yells. The thought that the failure of the raid would mean he wouldn't get to see the Princess had just entered his mind.

It didn't take him long to reach the mixed pile of food give that he had a few of Antonio's soldiers to urge him on. He snatched a mouse off the top and craned his head upwards when he heard Essie calling. She was waiting for him on the rafters. Holliday raced off again, using fallen planks and what was left of stairs and the walls to reach her. The she-cat ran even before he was at her side, trusting that he'd have the sense to follow. When they reached the edge of the building she jumped across the narrow alleyway gap to land on the roof opposite the decaying house. Figuring a broken neck would hurt a lot less than whatever Antonio's soldiers had planned for him, he jumped after her, scrambling the rest of the way onto the roof when only his front paws caught the edge of it.

"I don't think I've ever-"

"Ven."

Holliday followed the she-cat across the roof tops until it was clear that Antonio's soldiers had given up. The two cats sat panting in an alley, the stolen mouse between them. It was a while before either of them spoke.

"What were you thinking?"

"Well I-"

"No. It is obvious that you were not thinking."

"Does this mean that I can't see the princess?"

"Quieres mirar la princesa? Ahora? Aye dios mio...Tu estas un pendejo. Un pendejo estupido. Tu estupidez es mayor que la de Antonio. Mayor que pez. Mayor que perros."

"That sounded like a no."

"Aye dios mio...Dios. Mio. You could have gotten us killed, and yet you still think of the princess?"

He snorted. "Well we ain't dead yet. So I figure we might as well finish the deal."

"Deal? What deal?"

"You said that if I did this one last thing you'd show me the princess. I assumed that was the one last thing."

"Uno. Ratón. One mouse. And you think you deserve to see the princess?"

"Well, as you said, we did almost get killed. Somethin' oughta come outta that I reckon."

"Un ratón."

"It could replace the mouse that queen lost."

Essie stepped back a little, blinking in surprise. Even she had nearly forgotten the queen and her kit. The she-cat surveyed the tom, trying to see if behind those mischievous eyes there dwelt some semblance of honor. She turned around abruptly and began to walk away.

"Hey! HEY!"

"You won't get to see la princesa just by sitting there. Grab your mouse and we'll give it to that queen from before. And then we'll see if we can't find la princesa blanca."


--------


"Hola, papá."

"Hola, mija...Cómo estás? Quien es eso?"

"Este es el tom que salvó mi vida y casi got me mató a todos en el mismo día."

"Todos en el mismo día?" the older cat laughed and turned to Holliday. "Que es tu nombre?"

Holliday blinked, incomprehension plastered on his face. This caused the older cat to laugh again and mutter something about 'gringos', so the loner gathered that the older tom understood that he couldn't understand spanish.

"I said what's your name?"

"Holliday."

"Holl-ee-day?"

"S'what I said."

"Do you know who I am?"

"Not Mario. Not Essie. And not Antonio."

"You're damn right I'm not Antonio."

"So then who are ya?"

"Amaranto. Ven aca, let us talk."

Holliday hesitated. The last time he went to talk with someone he ended up being recruited to some sort of women-beating army. And of course, there was the matter of the princess. "Wait. Essie said there was a princess here."

"Did she? I suppose she ought to know, being the Princess of Thieves herself. Now come."

The tom stared dumbfounded at the dirty white she-cat. The princess. He had suspected...but it was so easy to let those suspicions rest while she looked like the basuro gato that Mario liked to call him. Essie laughed and winked.

"Surprised?"

"A little."

"Close your mouth and follow my father...and maybe you'll get to see the princess again."

The days after his and Amaranto's talk, which consisted largely of questions about Antonio and Holliday's loyalties, saw Holliday staying with Amaranto's band of rebels. The loner never really fancied himself a military man, and he was quite certain that returning to Antonio would mean a sound beating and slit throat.

He had plans to leave after a brief rest, not wanting to get involved in the war between Antonio and Amaranto...but days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. He was going on raids as well as leading them, doing all in pursuit of his princess. And yet. At the same time, it wasn't just for her. He had grown to respect Amaranto. Essie's brothers became Holliday's brothers. The tom felt at home amongst the rebels, fighting for something other than his own skin. It was good to have someone beside him, good to know that someone had his back, good to know that if he fell there would be someone who would care enough to kill the bastard that managed to off him.

And Essie? Esmerelda, he'd find out her full name was...She was the she-cat he couldn't catch. The one woman who wouldn't fall into his paws no matter how many feats of daring he did for her. No matter how many grins he flashed. No matter how many times he made her laugh. She was truly unattainable. But she still managed to give him this weird fuzzy feeling. The feeling that it didn't matter how much he had to do for her. The feeling that it didn't matter if he couldn't have her, so long as she was happy and smiling.

It was a while before he could quite grasp this feeling.

Love.

[Pyro]

SHOT FIVE:
SHOOTOUT
"I d'know. There's just somethin' about him. Reminds me of a younger me." Holliday smirked. "Nope, I'm sure of it. I hate him."

"You don't even know him."

"Why Raphael. If I'd known you were dropping in I would have prepared tea."

"Let him go, Doc."

"He's one of Antonio's curs, did you know?"

"We don't kill in cold blood. Send the pendejo back to his kennel with a warning."

"Alright then, Ringo. Why don't you tell Antonio that if I catch one of his soldiers snooping around again, I'll be sending them back in pieces." He let up the cat he'd been pinning, and it ran off, glaring over its shoulder.

Raphael and Holliday walked back to the sewers together, chatting animatedly in hushed tones about the next raid. It wasn't anything special, but Holliday always enjoyed going on raids with Esmeralda's brothers, Raphael in particular...and this time, the princess herself as going to be coming along. The raid was a wonderful opportunity to get in good with Amaranto, (not that he needed to prove anything anymore having been with the rebels for nearly three moons) and to impress Essie. And of course, Holliday never passed up a chance to impress Essie.

"Ai, Doc! Did you give that spy whatfor?" A black and white cat whom Holliday recognized as Damien, another of Essie's brothers, walked over to them.

"You know, I would have, but Raphael here had some second thoughts."

"He looked like a new recruit. With luck once he knows what Antonio's all about he'll come to our side."

"Still a spy." Damien growled.

"Hm. I don't think he got anything though. When I got him it looked like he was trying to sneak in. I suppose he might have even wandered over here by accident."

Their discussion continued in such a fashion until one of the rebels came over to tell them it was time for the raid. The group assembled and Amaranto split them up into two teams, one led by Holliday, the other led by Esmeralda. The plan was relatively simple: one group (Holliday's) went in, the other (Essie's) backed them up. Pretty standard for a raid.

They set out together, the groups mingling on the way to the location. Even when they got to the storehouse they were attacking, there'd still be some lay down time for reconnaissance. Amaranto always stressed that they take things slow, so they didn't run into an ambush or end up taking on more soldiers than they could manage. It wasn't exactly Holliday's style, but he recognized the benefits of not always charging headfirst into things.

"Think you'll be able to manage it this time, Holliday?"

"Callate, Damien."

"I wasn't asking you, Esmeralda. Besides, he's already screwed up once today."

Raphael sped up a bit to join the conversation. "I already told you Damien, we didn't need to kill him."

"Sabes que? When you turn out wrong, you can kill him, Raphael."

"Alright you three, silencio por favor."

"I haven't said two words-"

"Doc. Necesitamos silencio."

The scouts for the raid had just arrived, giving the group the all clear. With that, the group split, and Holliday led his portion into the storehouse with Raphael by his side. It was surprisingly easy going. There weren't as many guards as was usual for storehouses, and Holliday assumed this was because it was one of the smaller ones. Smaller store, smaller guard detail, right? He led his group along the walls, their scent long disguised through an unsavory tactic Holliday had introduced to the rebels: rolling on dead bodies. If the victim hadn't been dead long enough to reek to high heaven of decay, it usually allowed them to temporarily have a scent that was familiar enough not to arose suspicion. It did wonders for occasions like raids, when slipping in unnoticed was key.

They hid near the back among fallen rubble and long forgotten cargo boxes, unseen by the soldiers chatting near the center of the building. Raphael's head turned toward the main entrance (used only by soldiers) as he caught a familiar scent. Holliday turned as well, giving the other tom a questioning look. Raphael's nose was better than his on any day, and he was curious as to what he had picked up.

"It's that new recruit we found by the sewers today."

"Ringo?"

"Yeah." A look of horror flashed across Raphael's face. "You don't think he found out about the raid, do you?"

"I'm sure I caught him before he could- wait! Raphael come back here, he's probably just here to replace a guard!"

But Raphael was already sneaking away to head off Ringo, hoping to stop him before he could warn the soldiers. He snuck back out of the storehouse with ease, and it looked like he was going to be able to kill Ringo before he could even thin about defending himself...but then a loud wail hit the air.

And all hell broke loose.

The soldiers in the storehouse rushed to the aid of their comrade, setting on Raphael at once. Holliday charged forward after them, calling the attack early in hopes that it would help to save Raphael's life. However, the added commotion only served to draw out more soldiers...and it wasn't long before they were swamped.

Holliday wasn't sure when Esmeralda and her team came in to help, but at some point the pressure lessened some. Not enough though, for anyone to take a breather. He looked to his side and saw the princess tangling with two scraggy-looking toms, and started to run to help her when another cat pounced on him. He rolled with the impact, heaving the cat off of him with a push and few kicks. A nasty clawing to the back sent the assailant wailing for home. He looked back where Essie had been, but she was gone now, blocked from his view by a tide of battling cats. He looked to his other side and saw Raphael. The tom seemed to be doing alright though. He was no longer fighting Ringo, but another cat, and Holliday judged he'd be fine by himself. The dusty tom threw himself back into the battle, and things seemed to be looking up. More and more of Antonio's soldiers were fleeing by the minute and the tide was turning.

However, when the opportunity came again to look for familiar faces again, he saw that the tide had turned against Raphael. He was fighting more cats now and that bastard Ringo was sneaking up behind him. Holliday called out a warning above the din of the fighting, and it appeared that Raphael heard him. The warning though, distracted him just long enough for Ringo to get the jump on him.

He was right there. Right there. And he couldn't help Raphael.

"You son of a bitch. It was all your fault. My father told you what to do but you still had to go charging in like an idiot." It hurt to hear the accusation from Essie.

"It's not your fault. Raphael knew what he was getting into by charging early." It hurt to be comforted by Amaranto.

But perhaps what hurt the most was the flat out dismissal from Damien. "It's your fault. My father might not have the heart to tell you, but I sure do. You've proved that you don't belong here, gringo."

In time, Essie followed her father's example. But Damien's words still buzzed around in Holliday's head like a nest of angry wasps.

You don't belong here, gringo.

[Pyro]

THE SIXTH AND FINAL SHOT
To say sorry was trite.

To continue on as he had was impossible.

He did not mope, he did not mourn, he did not go on any more raids. It was as though Raphael's death had both crushed him and left him unaffected. To the outsider he was still the same Holliday he had always been, if not a bit distant. To the insider, though, that distance was an uncrossable rift that left him on one side and them on the other.

For as long as he could remember, Holliday had remained outside the reach of guilt, but now he had to face it head on, and he was not sure if he was man enough to do so. His mind was reflexively poised for flight, and only a vicious desire to finish what had been started kept his body from following the instincts of that cowardly reflex. His days in Mexico were numbered yes, but there was still something left to be done in the dusty country which had taken him in.

The days following Raphael's death saw him delving further and further into what would be considered Antonio's turf. Solo missions, with no obvious reward, and no one attempted to stop him. It was as though they could all sense what he was sensing within himself: that their time together was drawing to a close. Once Essie came to the same realization her father had when Holliday had first told the story of what had happened that night, she had tried her paw at tailing the tom to see where he was wandering off to day in, day out. But each time he managed to lose her, and no longer did he try to charm his way into her heart. He had never really deserved her affections, and now that her brother was dead, that was even more apparent to him. But that was not his only reasoning for distancing himself from his ivory princesa: he had a job to do now, one that he had to do alone, and after a couple of weeks of searching, he was finally ready to do it.

"You have been looking for something." It was a question.

"I have."

"And you have found it."

"What makes you say that?"

Esmeralda stared into his eyes, their green hues seeming to bore straight down into his soul. She knew. He knew she knew. and she obligingly confirmed it: "You are tense in the same way that any of my cats are before a raid. You have been going into Antonio's territory for weeks. You admit that you have been searching for something, and by your own hesitation you admit that you have found it." Her eyes narrowed and she broke her stare to walk a little bit aways from him. "You are going to kill the cabrón that killed my brother." She took a breath. "I am coming with you.

"No."

Essie whirled around, her face a mask of fury. "You cannot say no. This is not a request that you can just deny. This is the murderer of my brother, and I have the right to go with you."

She couldn't go. She couldn't. They couldn't share that moment, only for him to leave. She couldn't make it harder for him to leave. "I'm not going to kill him."

"Then you are an even bigger coward than Damien says."

"I don't have a stake in this. It's not my fight and it never was. If I'm 'tense' as you say, then it's because I'm eager to get the hell out of here before you and your's can drag me any deeper into something I have no business being in in the first place." He forced an expression of anger upon his own face. "Why would I avenge someone who was stupid enough to get themselves killed in the first place." It hurt him to say it as much as it hurt her to hear it.

"¡Te voy a matar, hijo de puta!"

He dodged her enraged lunge as though he had been waiting for it.

"Salte. ¡SALTE!"

He ran.

And it was like a release. Just to run from Essie, run from her screamed accusations and insults. To deny their war, he knew, would fray the bond that had been formed. To insult her brother, so soon after his death, when the wounds from it were still raw and aching, would break it. Perhaps forever. It had been so easy...he wanted to feel relieved that it had not taken hours of lying, denying, and fighting to get her to leave him...but he could not. All he felt was pain, pain that quickly took away the brief, shameful ecstasy that had been caused by the release of his responsibilities.

He could never face her again.

But he couldn't think about that now. He had the murderer's location burned into his mind; his very soul held the brown tom's face. Holliday stopped downwind from where Ringo was on guard duty and waited. He waited and waited until he felt he could wait no more. And just as the dusk fell, just as he was about to charge in and kill the witnesses that stood near his oh-so-close victim, it was time for Ringo to go home. Holliday did not bother to trail him. The small tom trailed the larger from a 'safe' distance, excitement building in him as he realized wherever Ringo was going was close to the sewers. He would have dragged the body there anyway...but for Ringo to do all that for him was a sickeningly sweet-as-candy plus. Like a near-dead man digging his own grave.

Lunge. Smash. The sound of claws ripping through flesh. The silent near-sound of blood pouring from an opened throat. No banter. No last words. Only the simple art of the act itself, and the gift of silence the city which surrounded them was kind enough to give. There was a mouse nearby, stunned perhaps that a cat had killed one of its own kind. Was the little tom a cannibal? The rodent soon met its end as well, its body finding its resting place at Ringo's side: A nod, although perhaps none but the nodder would get it.

A nod to that first night. The first night he had laid eyes on her. The first night he had seen her in her glory: the ivory goddess defending her people against those who would see them starving in the streets.

The dusty outlaw that dared to fall in love with her. That dared to let her go.