That Shady Old Cat
1562 Words
Inside the Little Tavern.
Julian, Sebastian, and Victor settled at a table. Victor ordered three modest dishes—two meats, one vegetable—and the cheapest half-liter bottle of white liquor.
“No need to skimp for me. Add a couple more,” Julian said, pretending politeness.
“Nah. You just started—no paycheck yet. This is plenty,” Victor replied. Though blunt, he clearly meant well. He rubbed his chilled hands together and looked at Julian. “Heard you came from the Unplanned Zone?”
“Yeah,” Julian nodded.
“Rough out there, right?”
“Not really. It’s all about getting used to it,” Julian said with a smile. “Once you adapt, everywhere’s the same.”
“Fair point.”
…
All three were young; conversation flowed easily. Victor and Julian were both outgoing and quick with jokes, so they warmed up fast. During the chat, Julian noticed something: Sebastian’s body language and tone toward Victor were noticeably deferential—almost fawning.
When the food and drinks arrived, Julian raised his glass. “We’re sitting together, so we’re friends. I’m new here—let’s stay in touch and look out for each other.”
“No one’s looking out for anybody these days,” Victor said bluntly, then grinned. “If you’ve got what it takes, you eat anywhere. If not, no amount of help saves you. But staying in touch? Sure. Just for standing up to Dominic and his crew—you’re good in my book.”
Julian chuckled. “Bottoms up.”
“Bottoms up.”
“Bottoms up!”
They clinked glasses and drained them.
“More,” Sebastian said, wiping his mouth and refilling Victor’s glass first. “Old Cat—about that thing I mentioned last time… any chance?”
Victor rolled his eyes, spearing a tiny slice of beef with his chopsticks. “You’re a sneaky bastard. Julian’s paying, and you’re asking favors?”
Sebastian scratched his head, not embarrassed. “Money’s tight, man.”
“When isn’t it with you?” Victor chewed, frowning. “Fine. I asked around. No openings in admin right now. If you want in, you’d have to pray to God for a miracle. And you don’t have the cash for that anyway. Wait.”
Julian blinked, curious. “Why admin specifically?”
“He’s scared,” Victor said flatly. “Last year the department reported thirty-five dead in six months. World’s too crazy. He’s on the front line team and wants something safer.”
“Ah.” Julian showed no surprise. Compared to the Unplanned Zone, the Sixth District’s streets were practically peaceful.
Victor turned to Sebastian with faint contempt. “Listen up. Times have changed. If you don’t fight—if you don’t risk it—you’ll never get ahead. Even if I got you into admin, without connections you’d just get pushed out again. There’s a saying: chaotic times make heroes. Forget the big examples—look at Marcus Vale’s older brother. Before the Sixth District was established, who was he? Nobody. But when everything fell apart, he rose fast. Now nobody in Ashmire District messes with him. Six wives. Who’d he rely on? Nobody.”
“I’m not him,” Sebastian said with a sheepish grin. “I just want to stay alive, feed my mom and sister.”
“That’s all the ambition you’ve got,” Victor said, shaking his head in disappointment. “I got you on the First Team thinking you’d seize some chances, make something of yourself. Instead you’re washing socks and fetching tea for everybody. No wonder they punch you when they’re bored. You’re not even their equal—how do you build connections like that?”
Sebastian stared at his plate in silence.
Victor sighed. “With that spineless attitude, your old man named you after a mythical beast. Me—I’m this damn good, and my mom named me Victor Hawthorne… Where’s the justice?”
Julian laughed to break the tension. “Enough. Let’s talk about something else.”
The subject dropped. Sebastian didn’t bring up the transfer again. They drank and chatted idly as time slipped by.
Around nine p.m., Sebastian glanced at another new message on his phone and stood abruptly. “Family thing—I gotta run. See you tomorrow.”
“Stay longer?” Julian asked.
“Can’t.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
“No need. I’m good.”
“Take care.”
…
After quick goodbyes, Sebastian hurried off with his phone in hand. Julian stayed with Victor, who showed no interest in leaving.
“Old Cat,” Julian said, cheeks flushed from the liquor, “we’re drinking together, so we’re friends. Go easy on Sebastian—save him some face.”
“I wasn’t insulting him—I’m trying to wake him up!” Victor tapped the table emphatically. “If a man stays on his knees forever, he’ll never stand. You get that?”
Julian thought about it and nodded slowly.
“He’s the only real friend I’ve got on the force. It kills me watching him waste away.” Victor shook his head, then stopped. “Forget him. I’ve got business.”
“What business?” Julian asked.
Victor’s eyes gleamed. “That girl earlier—she’s definitely not with those four guys romantically. I’m making a move.”
Julian blinked. “Which girl?”
“Damn, man—you’re clueless. The one who got out of the truck.” Victor grinned. “She’s stunning. One look and I was hooked. Tall, long legs… Doesn’t she remind you of Scarlett Johansson from the old days?”
Julian sweated. “Easy, brother. Things aren’t like before. It’s dangerous out there.”
“No worries. I’m just gonna try.” Victor rubbed his hands together with a sleazy smile, adjusted his crotch, and sauntered toward the table by the window.
…
Outside.
Sebastian stood on the curb, taking deep drags on his e-cig. He hesitated a long time before pulling out his phone to call Julian. Then he remembered—Julian’s new phone wasn’t synced to the department system yet. He dialed Victor instead.
…
Inside the tavern.
Victor smoothed his hair and approached the window table with a wide smile. “Hey, beautiful. Out with family?”
The girl had been staring out the window. She turned, puzzled. “Can I… help you?”
“Here’s the thing,” Victor said smoothly. “I’m a director for a TV scouting program. We’re holding auditions. Interested?”
The short middle-aged man across from her glanced at a companion and asked in Japanese, “ **のですか?” (Is this the delivery?)
The companion eyed Victor, frowning slightly. “ **ではない.” (Not code.)
As they spoke, the girl brightened and answered enthusiastically. “Really? A TV program? That’s perfect—I studied hosting.”
Victor hadn’t expected her to bite so fast. His eyes lit up. “Great! Got a number? Let’s exchange—we can talk privately later.”
He handed over his personal phone—not the department-issued one.
The girl took it and started typing.
Slap!
The middle-aged man stood, grabbing her wrist. “Give the phone back. Eat.”
“Uncle, I’m interested,” she said with a smile.
“I said give it back.”
Victor tilted his head, still smiling. “I really am with the station. No need to worry—I mean no harm.”
The girl hesitated, then returned the phone with an apologetic smile. “Never mind. Sorry.”
Victor had been thrilled, but now this “goblin” was ruining it. He opened his mouth to push further.
“Forget it,” the girl said firmly.
Victor stared at her for two seconds, then shrugged. “Fine. My bad for bothering you.”
…
One minute later.
Victor slumped back across from Julian, looking strange.
“Shot down, huh?” Julian asked, picking at his food.
Victor blinked rapidly and kicked Julian lightly under the table. “Look down.”
Julian frowned, glanced under the table. Victor held his phone low and whispered, “Check the screen.”
Julian looked. The dial pad showed “959595.”
“What’s that mean?”
Victor rubbed his face. “We stumbled onto something.”
“You’re saying…?”
“Those four guys aren’t with her. She kicked me under the table.” Victor pocketed the phone and sipped his drink. “I don’t know their deal… but something’s off. She wants us to help her.”
At the window table, the short man checked his watch, face cold. He murmured to his companion, “Sakki no yatsu wa gūzen ka, soretomo shisatsu ka?” (Was that guy coincidence or a probe?)
“Hard to say,” the companion replied.
“He looked clueless.”
The short man’s gaze flicked uneasily toward Victor. “Time’s up. We’re leaving.”
“Agreed.” The companion turned icily to the girl. “No tricks. Come with us.”
Sweat beaded on her pale forehead. She stole a glance at Victor, then nodded.
Nearby.
Victor rubbed his cheek anxiously and whispered to Julian, “What do we do? Get involved or not?”
Screech.
An all-electric car pulled up outside the tavern.
- Writer
