She stomped through the tunnels of the Spinners’ base, a short ball of firecrackers grumbling to herself in a tone of fire and brimstone. Armed to the teeth, Motor Cat made a beeline for the garage area of the base, knowing that was where she would find her target.
How long ago had it been since she’d joined the gang and found him? A few days? Months? Years? It didn’t matter, really. Not to her. To her, time hadn’t moved since the day he’d left, walking off without so much as a glance back and a word. Oh, sure, she’d gotten older. Taller. Maybe a little wiser. Definitely a lot more independent and a lot less ladylike. Mama would be so upset if she knew what she was doing now. Papa would just laugh himself hoarse.
But they weren’t here. Here, it was just her, her crew, and him.
And she was going to kill him.
It all started last night.
Gas Mouse, her beloved big brother, had sidled up to her while she was cleaning Daisy, a big smile on his stupid face. Cat had given him the longest side-eye of her life as she tried to figure out what he was smiling about without actually outright asking him. He kept staring at her, grinning, out of kicking and swinging distance, and with Daisy temporarily out of commission, she couldn’t threaten to shoot him. So it became a battle of wills until finally Motor Cat broke and looked fully at her brother.
“What?” she’d asked, full of sass.
He’d explained his plan to her, and he was lucky Daisy was temporarily out of commission otherwise she’d have shot him herself to put him out of his fool misery. She knew her brother did a lot of stupid crazy things - and wrote about all of his stupid crazy adventures in his books, books that, if Motor Cat had to be truthful, had devoured with dreams of one day having one of those stupid crazy adventures by his side - but this one had to take the cake.
He wanted to go hunt a Wrackedelope.
Motor Cat was no stranger to the monsters that lurked in the wastelands. After all, half her outfit was made of the pelts of the giant cats that roamed and hunted out there. But a Wrackedelope wasn’t a monster she ever wanted to tangle with. Not that she’d ever seen one up close, but she’d heard stories.
With the body of a rabbit and the antlers of a deer, a Wrackedelope was the size of a small vehicle. It had sharp teeth that delivered a venom that rendered its victims passive and nearly unresponsive. Then it sucked out all the juices of its victim, leaving behind only a desiccated corpse. Her big brother wanted to catch one? Kill one? Experiment with it?
“C’mon, Kitten,” he’d said, “it’ll be fun. Jus’ you an’ me. Out there.”
“You’re a damned fool, gonna get yourself and me killed.”
“C’mon, Kitten.”
And so it went, back and forth, the two arguing with each other until Motor Cat had given in. Mouse calling her ‘Kitten’ with that look in her eyes had always pulled at her heartstrings, even when she was little and they were arguing over chores. She’d probably given in more than her fair share, then, too.
So Motor Cat had agreed, against her better judgment, and the fact she had any wasn’t saying much. After all, she’d left home with just her three blades and her gun and joined the Spinners. Judgment wasn’t something that ran in spades in her family. They’d made plans, and Motor Cat had stayed up the night before making sure that they would have the right supplies for this psychotic little pleasure trip.
And then her damn fool brother had gotten up without her and hadn’t bothered to tell her that he’d already gone ahead to the garage to commandeer a vehicle suitable enough for Wrackedelope hunting. Noooo, he’d let her find out when she went to go look for him in his room and she’d found it empty.
So the ball of firecrackers was already running on a short fuse when she stomped into the garage, pulled out Daisy and aimed it at her beloved big brother’s head.
“I know you ain’t plannin’ on leavin’ without me, you RAT BASTARD!”
