Chapter Text
2:48 am
St. Louis, Missouri
The Prohibition is in full effect
The full moon beamed in the crystal waters of the Mississippi River with gold flickers of the city lights mirroring off the glistening ripples from the quick breeze chilling air of the autumn. Far from the sounds of trains thundering through the iron tracks in the hillsides of the booming society, patches of green grass swayed back and forth, making a hushed sound of crinkled ribbons in the night. Interrupting the sound of silence was the screeching hiss of bats fluttering through the twilight void of falling leaves and the bitter scent of the swampy marsh polluting the air within a two-mile radius.
In the dark, a sputtering automobile staggered through the concrete road with three voices babbling inside in misery and annoyance. The trio has been driving for nearly half an hour before they finally arrived at their destination in a dark alleyway on a city street. Their automobile popped and shook down the street into an open garage filled with boxes and tools of various sizes.
The first out of the vehicle was a light grey cat dressed in a blue suit and an orange tie stitched with the letter R at the bottom as well as a blue fedora. He removed his fedora, wiping his head with a handkerchief from his pocket. His name was Roark Rickaby, but do call him 'Rocky'.
Behind him in the passenger seat was a young orange cat dressed in lime green pinstripe pants and a dark green vest. He shakily sauntered out of the vehicle with a roll of rope in his hands. His name was Calvin Allen McMurray, known as 'Freckle' to most.
The third was a dark gray female cat with light grey pants and a matching hat and a golden sweater. She shut the door behind her, repeatedly looking at the wooden trunk attached to the back of the vehicle. Her name is Ivy Pepper.
The three of them, all stepping to the back of the automobile, remained silent until Freckle finally unlocked the chest and looked inside. A cat, male and between the ages of 25–35, lay tied and gagged in the chest, unconscious from the blow of Rocky's shovel. "He is still out cold." Freckle stepped back as Ivy and Rocky looked inside. "He hasn't moved since we put him in there."
Ivy reluctantly reached her hand to the man's chest, feeling for a heartbeat. "Do you think he's dead?"
"Of course not," Rocky answered, pulling her arm back out. "I didn't hit him that hard with the shovel. He lost his balance and fell on a rock, that's all."
"What do we do with him?" Wondered Freckle.
Immediately, silence filled the room as the being in the chest slowly rocked. He turned to his side facing the trio, but remained out of commission. He huffed through his gagged mouth, whispering nothing they could understand. Slowly, he opened one eye just as Ivy squeaked and slammed the chest shut.
"Freckle, you've killed someone, right?" Rocky asked.
"What--?"
"We have a volunteer! Thank you for your service."
"What!? No, I can't kill him! He hasn't done anything worth killing."
"But he saw us unbury the chest. If we let him live we can kiss the Lackadaisy life goodbye along with our lives." Ivy chirped. "Let's go with my original plan and get Viktor."
The chest bumped around as Freckle continued the conversation.
"He'd kill us if he finds out we brought someone, and then he'd kill him!"
"No. He'd kill Rocky and the guy, but leave you with broken arms. I'm serious! We need to get rid of him before he finds a way to escape the knots. We need to cut our losses and get Viktor to finish the job since none of us will. You two stay here, I'll be right back."
Through the garage and into a dark basement leading into a damp cellar of whiskies and spirits, the limestone walls sparkled with the light from the lamps. Deeper into the cave, Ivy trekked through a thick door into a desolate bar with only a thick orange cat behind the counter. The speakeasy was still with depressing notes of dismay and boredom from the saxophone echoing off the walls and across the near-vacant party room of ten or so cats smoking or lying in a deep sleep. Lackadaisy wasn't exactly as celebrated as it once was. Once serving as an establishment of freedom and festivity, now a haunting reminder that nothing in the world endures.
Ivy stepped to the bar where the orange cat scrubbed a shot glass clean, ignoring her presence. "Hey, Viktor?" She climbed onto a seat and tapped on the counter. "We have a little situation and we could really use your help."
Viktor turned to Ivy, his single eye burning in her direction. He wore a dark blue sweater with two leather straps of his suspenders holding up his gray pants. And shadowing his eyepatch was a dark gray newsy cap on his head.
"Funny story," Ivy continued. "We were making our usual runs for the business when we heard someone watching us behind the bushes. He looked like he was going to shoot us because he had a gun. Anywho, we brought him here--"
Before she could finish her sentence, he set the shot glass on the counter hard enough to shatter it completely. The sound of glass breaking dwelled in the speakeasy loud enough to catch everyone's attention. He bowed his head and whispered to himself, growling deeply. "Fine." He said behind his growls. "Show me and I kill them both."
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The silver ray of the waxing gibbous moon illuminated the soggy ground below with brief flickers of fireflies shimmering like twinkling lights at Christmastime. Besides the sickening scent of the disgusting waters of the murky pond, the bitter stench of a recently lit cigarette drifted through the starry night. Interrupting the croaking frogs and slithering snakes, a peculiar character stomped across the swamp waters with a radiant lantern in one hand and a pistol in the other. A cigarette hung from his mouth with the smell staining his clothing with filth so vile it could choke a person. Smokey grey pants were fastened around his waist while a dark grey color from a rain cloud was sewn to a vest and buttoned over a sleeved button-down shirt along with a red bandana tied around his neck. His Nicodeme Savoy, but he answers to Nico just as well.
Skulking through the dark night alone was the last place Nico expected to be, but when it came to hunting the creature that attacked them the night prior, he knew he needed to find it. The only obstacle in his excursion was his undertaking: Finding it. Better yet, finding it in the woods. He kept his right paw on his gun as his shoeless feet slopped in the mud, soiling his pant legs. He could hear rustling in the woods around him, but it could be anything. It could be his sister watching him, it could be a deer skipping along, or it could be the fearsome beast watching him intently, waiting to strike. Quietly, he swam through the muddy waters and toward the gravel road not too far from where he once stood, and once he stood at the next end, he heard the sound of a vehicle backfiring into the night to his left. Slowly, the headlamps from the car grew closer until he could the silhouetted machine drive up and stop in front of him.
Inside, two cats sat with cigars in their mouth. The first looking not a day over sixty with an ample potbelly and thick arms with bright glassy eyes yellow from a bad case of jaundice. The second was no skinnier than a telephone pole with a cap on his balding head and a map in his hands. From their backseat, Nico noticed their fishing poles and pails of various sea creatures swimming around. The bigger cat inhaled a puff of smoke and turned off the car as the skinny one rolled down his window.
“Evenin’” Nico greeted with a sly smile. “Can I help wit somethin’?”
“The hell you doing out here alone?” The skinny cat examined his muddy attire. “You’re in a dangerous area, pal.”
“Don mind me. Imma simple travler onn’is own.”
“That’s some peculiar clothing you've got there, Mister. Helps you camouflage from the alligators in these parts.”
“Or the beast.” The big cat chimed along only to be smacked by the skinnier cat.
Bingo. Nico’s interest peaked. “Beast, you say? What kinda beast?”
“A big, furry feller!” The bigger cat continued after being given permission. “With claws sharper than razors, teeth stronger than stone, and muscles as powerful as God himself.”
“Rumors have it that it lives in these woods hunting for its prey,” The skinny cat continued. “But it's just a myth. There are no such things as werewolves.”
“I saw it with my own eyes once, I swear! Once that thing finds you, then Godspeed to you and you're family.”
“Where can I find dis beast?” Nico lowered his head in a bow.
The bigger cat pulled the ignition of the car, starting it with a sputter. “You can't. It finds you.”
As the vehicle drove down the gravel road and into the night, Nico turned to the direction they had come from. With a lick of his lips, he stomped into the darkness, hearing a howl in the distance. Perhaps it was just a coyote.