I ducked down a second before the gunshot went off, the bullet displacing the air inches above my head.

  “What the shit,” Nexxali sputtered. “You… you moved?! HOW?!”

  I moved some more, making my strategic retreat from the trigger-happy officer.

  “Stop!” She yelled after me. “HALT!”

  The front of my mind was already halted to its maximum halting capacity. Fortunately, the back of my mind was still perfectly functional and in full control of my limbs.

  "I said STOP!! CEASE MOVING!" Nexxali roared, her voice packed full with magic compulsion that clawed uselessly at the frontend of my mind. Another shot cracked through the air, splintering the doorframe where I'd been moments ago.

  I sprinted into the kitchen. My fingers closed on the bottle of cooking oil left on the counter that I'd used to make Shady breakfast with. I quickly unscrewed the cap and flung the contents across the floor tiles just as Nexxali burst through the doorway.

  "Nowhere to run now, you little—"

  Her drinking flask must have contained something strong because her previously graceful feline movements were clumsy, reaction time slow. Her paws hit the oil slick at full speed.

  For a moment, she looked like a cartoon character, legs windmilling frantically as physics caught up with her. Then she went horizontal, flying into the ancient refrigerator.

  The impact shook the entire kitchen. The fridge teetered, groaned, then toppled forward with the slow inevitability of a century-old felled pine tree. Nexxali's golden eyes went wide just before several hundred pounds of 1950s appliance crashed down on top of her.

  "MOTHERFUCKING OWGHHH!" came the muffled feline shriek from beneath the fridge.

  I didn't wait to see if she was okay.

  I ran out of the kitchen to the hall closet where I stashed the Tommy guns. My hands were tingling as I grabbed one, the weight of it reassuring. I'd never actually fired a 1920’s gun before, but how hard could it be? Point and squeeze, right?

  "You," she hissed venomously from under the fridge. "How are you resisting my voice?!"

  "You still going to kill me if I explain it?"

  "Eh, I'll interrogate you on the ship after I murder you. No point chatting now, if you can just lie through your teeth."

  Wow, she was really set on the whole murder me thing. Welp, negotiations have failed.

  The fridge slammed sideways as the panting pradavarian officer emerged from beneath the appliance, her black uniform oily and rumpled, hat gone.

  "Say hello to my little friend," I growled as I pulled the trigger.

  The Tommy gun kicked like an angry mule. The noise was deafening in the enclosed space, brass casings cascading across the floor as bullets stitched across Nexxali's torso. She flew backward into a kitchen cabinet, wooden cabinets exploding around her as the .45 caliber rounds hammered into her body.

  I released the trigger, ears ringing, expecting to see... well, what you'd expect after hitting someone with thirty rounds from a Thompson.

  Instead, Nexxali pushed herself upright with a bothered groan, looking more annoyed than dead. Her fancy uniform was shredded, hanging in tatters, but beneath it a form-fitting black, hexagonal-textured undersuit shimmered with emerald-violet flashes. Similar hexagons flashed around barely visible black rings circling the dark parts of her tail.

  The suit and rings acted like some kind of a highly advanced bulletproof vest, slowing the bullets before they did any major damage.

  "Nice try," she growled, then lunged for me.

  I raised the gun and aimed for her face, squeezing the trigger again. A hexagonal shield materialized inches from her snout, projected from a thin, dark ring around her neck I hadn't noticed before. The bullets sparked and ricocheted, one shattering the kitchen window.

  She howled, flying backwards, then rolled sideways to grab her gun from the floor.

  Fine. New target. I swept the gun toward her right hand. The machine gun burst caught her fingers, and she yowled, the gun spinning from her grip and clattering across the floor.

  I fired again, sending her flying across the kitchen. Then, I dove for her dropped gun, snatching it up and pointing it at her. Maybe her own gun would have enough power to go through that suit.

  I pulled the trigger. Nothing. Not even a click.

  "Biometric lock, idiot," Nexxali hissed, opening and closing her right hand, which seemed to be only slightly bruised due to the bulletproof suit. "Only I can fire it."

  Well, fuck me, I guess.

  I bolted through the back door and out into the garden clutching the useless alien handgun in one hand and the Tommy gun in the other.

  Behind me, I heard Nexxali roar with frustration. “Give me back my gun!”

  I had to get rid of her weapon, so she wouldn’t shoot me in the head with it. But how? I looked around desperately for a…

  The old well in the back garden!

  Grandpa had capped it years ago but never filled it in. I yanked off the wooden cover and cast the alien handgun into the well.

  "MY GUN!" Nexxali burst through the back door sending splinters flying. “NOOOooo!”

  She watched as her pistol vanished from my open hand into the well. A distant splash echoed up.

  “It’s sleeping with the fishes now!” I answered and blessed her with another burst from the Thompson.

  She tried to dodge but her drunken reflexes were too slow. The impacts sent her careening across the garden, crashing through Grandma's old rose trellis in a tangle of thorns and profanity.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The vampire machine gun clicked, the drum magazine empty.

  I dropped the Tommy gun and sprinted around the side of the house, arriving at the driveway.

  The trusted Cherokee!

  I dove into my car, hand scrambling under the seat until my fingers found the magnetic case with the second set of keys, heart pounding madly.

  The engine turned over on the second try, and I spun the wheel to rotate the car across the gravel front loop.

  In the rearview mirror, I saw Nexxali leap from the rose bushes on all fours, the hexagonal undersuit gleaming in the sunlight through the holes in torn uniform. She looked less like a military officer and more like some primordial predator as she bounded after me, covering ground with terrifying speed.

  I floored it down the long, winding gravel road toward Cascade, the Cherokee's engine screaming in protest. In the mirror, Nexxali kept pace for almost a quarter mile before finally falling behind, her figure shrinking to a distant dot still pursuing on all fours.

  My heart was thrumming madly.

  What the hell was I going to do now? I'd just shot a Pradavarian officer. Multiple times. And threw her gun down a well. Brilliant strategy there, Emperor. Just amazing. Your genius truly knows no bounds.

  The road curved ahead, Cascade's rooftops twinkling in the valley below. I needed to—

  The Cherokee lurched sideways as something massive slammed into it from the forest.

  “Gotcha now, miscreant!” a familiar voice howled.

  Nexxali's reinforced fist punched through the passenger side window in a shower of safety glass. Her face pressed against the opening, golden eyes wild.

  I yanked the wheel hard, veering toward the cliff wall. The Cherokee's left side scraped against the rock face with a grinding shriek of metal on stone. Sparks flew as Nexxali's hexagonal suit caught between unyielding granite and Detroit steel.

  "FUCK FUCK FUCK—" Her curses cut off as she lost her grip, sharp, jagged rocks tearing her from the vehicle. In the side mirror, I watched her tumble across the asphalt, the suit flashing emerald and violet as it absorbed the impact, leaving a trail of rainbow sparks.

  She was already pushing herself up on all fours, shaking her head. Tough as nails, drunk as a skunk, and still gunning for me.

  Fine. Let's see how much punishment that fancy suit can handle.

  I slammed the Cherokee into reverse, tires squealing. Nexxali's eyes went wide as two tons of American engineering bore down on her. She tried to dodge but her reflexes were shot. The rear bumper caught her square, and I felt the vehicle lift slightly as it rolled over her.

  The suit erupted in a cascade of defensive hexagons, flashing like a disco ball having a seizure. I could hear her swearing and howling in pure, unfiltered rage.

  I shifted to drive and plowed over her, then reversed again, making another pass. The suit was going absolutely haywire now, hexagons flickering and stuttering, some sections dimming while others blazed brighter.

  Whatever powered that thing had to have limits.

  When I finally drove backwards after my 4th pass, Nexxali was sprawled on the asphalt, the suit flickering weakly like a dying neon sign. She was still conscious, golden eyes tracking me with murderous intent, but she wasn't getting up. Her attempts to move resulted in twitching limbs and more creative profanity.

  "Battery's dead?" I called out the broken window. "Should've brought a charger."

  "I'm going to wear your skin as pajamas," she wheezed.

  "Get in line, Miss Roadkill. A Wendigo and a vampire already called dibs on me!"

  I floored the jeep, heading straight for her.

  The Serval officer managed to leap away at the last second, her body arcing through the air with feline grace. She vanished into the forest edge, yellow and black tail fluttering behind her like a tattered flag.

  I slammed on the brakes, the Cherokee fishtailing to a stop. Through the obliterated window, I saw two golden eyes glaring at me from between the trees like amber coins.

  "What's wrong, kitty?" I called out. "Need a ride? I promise to drive really carefully this time!"

  A snarl erupted from the woods. "I'm going to snap your neck like a twig, you pathetic primitive! Then I'll use your vertebrae as a necklace!"

  "Very arts and crafts of you!" I shot back. "But shouldn't you be calling for backup? Oh wait—" I made an exaggerated thinking face. "Can't have witnesses to you executing your own squad members, can you? Especially not after the Admiral getting all handsy with some poor local."

  The snarling intensified. "Fuck you!"

  "Too stubborn to give up, huh?" I revved the engine. "Fine, fine. Catch me if you can, whiskers!"

  I peeled out, watching in the mirrors as she burst from the forest, pursuing on all fours. Even drunk and battered, she was keeping pace. The suit might be failing, but whatever muscles these Pradavarian cats had, were no joke.

  I thought of the resistance reports I read this morning while using Shady as a pillow. Felines. Division 117 in Moscow, enjoying gifts of books about Baba Yaga and…

  Cascade greeted me with relatively calm streets. I wondered if North’s words of panic buying had been exaggerated. The local pet store was miraculously still open regardless of alien invasions when I screeched into the parking lot.

  "Pet Paradise" sign glowed in neon pink as I ran into the shop through the sliding doors. I glanced behind me, seeing distant Nexxali bounding across the lot, tongue out, teeth sharp, eyes blazing.

  I nearly bowled over a teenage employee. "Emergency! Need catnip! All of it!"

  "Urmmm… Aisle three."

  I headed straight for the cat toy aisle, grabbing every catnip mouse, ball, and pillow I could find.

  The front window exploded inward as Nexxali arrived, landing in a shower of glass and snarling fury. Her uniform was fully gone, just the flickering hexagonal undersuit that made her look like she was wearing scales made of mostly dead LEDs. Glass peppered her messy ginger mane, the face shield fully dead.

  Customers screamed, fleeing toward the back exit.

  "Finally stopped running, coward?" she hissed, advancing on all fours, muscles coiling.

  "Just doing some shopping!" I ripped open a catnip mouse with my teeth.

  She lunged.

  I flung the torn catnip toy directly into her open mouth as she tried to bite my face off. Her jaw snapped shut on fabric and concentrated herb, choking and sputtering.

  The effect was instantaneous, as advertised by the Russian resistance members.

  Nexxali's pupils blew wide, turning her golden eyes into black holes ringed with gold. She made a confused "mrrp?" sound around the toy, then started chewing it more deliberately.

  Her aggressive posture melted like ice cream in summer.

  "Whaaa..." she mumbled around the mouthful of catnip, swaying on her feet as I stuffed more toys into her mouth. "This is... what is... oh. Oh no. Oh this is... mmmmm… tasty."

  She dropped to the floor, rolling onto her back, all four limbs in the air as she batted at the overhead fluorescent lights. In less than a minute, the fearsome pradavarian officer became an oversized housecat, high as a kite.

  "Why does the ceiling have so many stars?" she drawled. "They're moving! Dancing! Little boxy dancers! What is this amazing stuff and why can’t I stop chewing it?"

  The hexagonal suit had completely shut down, leaving her in what looked like a high-tech, black wetsuit.

  "This isn't over!" she declared, though it came out more like a purr. "I'm gonna... gonna..." She rolled over, drooling and chewing the toys stuffed in her mouth. "Gonna take such a nap first. Then murder you. Definitely murder after nap time!"

  The teenage employee peered out from behind the counter at me. "Dude, what the hell?"

  "Just alien invasion things," I said. "Sorry, I got into a fight with my alien cat girlfriend.”

  The teen opened and closed his mouth. I gave him a thumbs up, looked around and spotted a pink dog collar with a black hearts on it. “Ah. Perfect. I’ll take this, plus all the catnip you’ve got in stock.”

  The teen rang my purchases through, looking utterly bewildered.

  I limped back to Nexxali and put the collar over her neck, snapping it shut.

  “Wuh?” She opened one gold eye.

  “Got you a gift. A nice... kitty collar as is Earth tradition.”

  “Kay.” The feline eye closed. “Taaanks.”