The other thread is clearly broken, as I can't see any of my most recent responses unless I'm logged in under my name; interesting fact, that. Maybe I was mistakenly singled out as a spammer.
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-- Your attempt to read his mind fails. He sees you, and asks aloud, "Eli? Is that you?"
I nod, raise my paw and wave at him.
He looks at your note on the ground, glances around, then tells you, "I'm going to pick you up. Is that okay?"
His English sounds to have improved somewhat over the years.
I nod an affirmative.
He stoops down and picks you up, turns, and walks away from the precinct, which is the direction he was initially headed. He puts you in the front seat, and starts to drive.
"I'm going to take you to my place, and let you use my computa. I know you got away from the lab; that is vey good. I wonda how many rives you used doing that."
As he's talking to you, he continuously glances down at you.
There is abruptly chaos, and you are flung to the floor; you feel the weight of the dashboard pin you down painfully.
You hear the detective breathing shallowly, and the car has halted.
After what seems like an eternity, you hear sirens. The technicians drag the detective from the car, and you hear him sputter, "The cat."
The car is cut and pried from around you; one of the EMTs examines you, and says, "We'd best have a veterinarian have a look at you, but it looks to me like you're one lucky cat."
It seems the detective was in a head on collision with a tractor trailer which weaved into his lane. The other driver, a large man in his forties, is reacting belligerently to the questioning. He smells distinctly of marijuana and alcohol to your nose at this distance.
They take you to an emergency animal hospital, and the doctor on duty examines you carefully, feeling over every inch, before telling you, "A car accident where you were pinned to the floor, and not a mark on you. You are one lucky guy. Can't say the same for your owner; only time will tell for him."
They put you in a cage for the night.
Lucky. Riiiiight... The detective knows about the lives. I hope he pulls through.
Back to waiting yet again
Within the week, the detective comes to pick you up. His arm is in a cast, but he seems largely okay. He fills out some paperwork, then takes you home with him, and puts you in front of his computer, the notepad program open.
"You wanted to tell me something?"
double post.
I type
'Sorry about the accident, My lives tend to involved a lot of bad luck to counter my good luck, I think. Can you tell me what you know about this?
The main reason I contacted you was to to offer my assistance to you in any way that I can do. I've been improving my martial arts over the years. I had a nice meal out of a wild dog before I decided to come see you.
I also wanted to tell you about my origins. I was originally human. I then became a dimensional traveler after an accident. my kind are called versers. Normally, When we die we are shunted into another dimension. But something messed up horribly and I was reborn as a cat.'
"I don't know much about it; supposedly, though, cats have nine lives. I would guess you know that better than I do. Do you know how many times you've died?
"I can't really think of any ways you could offer your assistance; maybe you could be similar to one of our canine units, but it would certainly be placing you in harm's way.
"That story is difficult to believe, but I haven't got any other explanation for why you would appear as you do."
'I think I've died six times. I'm not really sure because I'm counting the instances when I should have died but was saved by a twist or fate. I died explicitly once, being run over by a car hurt a lot. I felt my torso being crushed and I woke up on the other side of the road.
I don't care about putting myself in harm's way. I want to move on to the next world to find a way to transform myself back to human.'
"Well, which do you want, Eli? To die, or to do police work?"
'I want to do police work.
I'm not suicidal if that's what your asking.
I would like to die saving someone or helping the community,
than die by something stupid like being run over by a car.'
"Well, if you've died six times, that means you're on your seventh life; when you die twice more, you will be dead.
"I would love to take you along with me into the field, but these days they've got me working behind a desk. Unfortunately, if we reveal too much about you, the scientific community will be all over you, just like they once were before. I do have an idea, though. Wait here."
He leaves the room for a few moments, then returns with a folder. "The case that you were involved in, where Jed was murdered; it was part of something bigger." He takes out a poorly lit picture; the subject, a large, muscular man in a black and white suit, has a face not visible through the shadow beyond that he has a strong chin and a prominent jawline.
"We suspect this man was behind the order to kill Jed as well as my partner and several other law enforcement officials. We never got a name, and every trail we followed turned cold; but, we did find that he frequented a bar on the south side, The Bloody Bucket."
double post
'That's A good idea. I would be perfect to investigate that bar, since nobody would notice a cat hanging around that bar. Do you have a map of the area? I say you drop me off somewhere 5 or 10 blocks away, so they don't notice you. And you can pick me up somewhere else. What do you think?'
He sighs. "I was put behind a desk for investigating this case; when I kept working it anyway, they suspended me from the force. If they find out I'm working it again, I might as well kiss my badge goodbye."
"Then we won't let them find out.
How far away is this Bloody Bucket from here?
Are any of your routine stops nearer to it that here?"
He thinks about it.
"Well, it's on the south side... so, no. I never have a reason to go on that side of town, ever since I was taken off the street.
"It's about fifteen minutes by car in traffic; probably forty five walking." He brings up a map and shows you.
'A change in your driving pattern would be suspicious, so I'll walk.
Detective ... I never overheard your name.
May I stay with you? I can hunt so that you don't have to buy catfood.
Do you have a family here?'
"Ming.
"You may stay here as long as you like.
"I have no family here, no."
'Thank you Detective Ming.
I have one more favor to ask you.
I have a pile of equipment in the woods.
It has been there since I was born into this world.
I would like to move it here.
We can wait until your arm heal, it should be ok until then."
"I'm fine with that; just give me a few weeks for my arm to heal, and we'll go find your things."
'They will be easy for me to find.
Should I go and examine that bar tonight? Or wait until tomorrow?'
"It's up to you."
He walks away, sinks into his couch, and scratches his head; apparently, having a conversation with a cat is rocking his world perception after all.
"I'm gonna have to install a cat door," he mumbles.
What time is it?
Have I eaten recently?
It is late afternoon.
You are feeling hungry and thirsty, yes, and your bladder is also warning you that it's about that time again.
I'll try to open the door outside and find somewhere out of the way to relieve myself.
I'll try to find some water and then hunt something.
I'll spend a few hours getting familiar with the area around Ming's house.
After that I'll knock on Ming's door and take a nap somewhere out of his way.
You fail to open the door.
Ming asks you if there's something you need.
I go back to the computer and type
'I need to go outside. I'll be back in a few hours.'
Ming opens the door and lets you out.
You find a place to do your business, kill a bird for your supper, and you find some water.
You return in the evening thoroughly worn out. Ming lets you in when you knock, then says to you when you go to lay down, "I guess I should probably get you some food. What do you like to eat? Cat food, like the stuff that coms in cans?"
I go to the computer and type
'That's ok Ming. I already had something to eat.
I would rather hunt to lessen my impact on your finances.
I'll let you know if I run out of prey.'
"I feel weird living with a cat and not feeding him, though.
"What do you like?"
'Ok... Just get some cheap dry cat food.
That will last the longest for the money you put into it.
Goodnight, unless there is something you want to talk about.'
"Ah, no... you're a cat, and cat's do that. Sleep, I mean. Often."
He seems somewhat frazzled himself.
"I'll probably put that door in for you tomorrow."
'Thank you. Goodnight.'
then I'll go to sleep in the spot were I was going to before.
You wake up in the middle of the night feeling rejuvenated but mildly hungry. You smell the dish of dry food; the smell of protein and fat content makes your mouth water.
Thank you Ming
I eat some cat food and practice my styles quietly.
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