Metaworld HopeCore

LAPA.

6:05 PM.

Eppie’s greatest worry while she was gone was that the cats would freeze.

Outside, the temperature dropped to 45°F at night, colder if there was rain.

For the Stray Cat Society, the shelter was also at the mercy of the dorm management, though it seems Lim had paid the management enough bribes to keep the heat on.

She jogged from the Dorm to the Cat Society for her meeting with Lim. The large man wouldn’t be here until 9 PM, which gave her enough time to clean out the poo, change the water, and redo the kibbles.

When she was gone, there would only be Lim and another Senior who lived only ten minutes away to look after the strays who wandered in for food and shelter. When she last met with Lim, she had proposed using some of her Charity Trust money to establish a permenant, rostered shelter, but Lim had said no.

There were always more cats to save, and he didn’t want her to be distracted from her work. Both professional and private.

The sun was dying now, and the temperate dropped rapidly. She kept to a very specific route, one that led her to all the strays' hiding places. If she passed these places, the cats would follow her scent back to the shelter. If she did not, some of them may not even show up for a free groom and feed.

As she ran, her breath made small ghosts in the air.

The campus was unusually quiet this time of December. It was kind of insane that a week prior, she had been tripping over dog walkers, food delivery drivers, joggers, and more, yet all that remained now was the white pavement and the intervals of light and dark left by the old fluorescent tubes.

She was three blocks from the school gate when she saw Mr Chin.

The furry rascal was sitting in the centre of the footpath as if he owned it, grooming himself while bathing in the light. Mr Chin was a scrapper. Ever since his injury, he had acquired a hankering for mortal combat, and could be see fightin every other non-CSULA stray for territory whenever a new cat strolled into town.

Eppie slowed her step. She loved Mr Chin, and Mr Chin loved her. If chance permitted, she was seriously considering adopting Mr Chin.

Moving slowly, she knelt.

“Here, Mr Chin—” she cooed at the cat, patting her pockets for treats. “Here, kitty kitty!”

To her horror, Mr Chin crouched, its back coiled, the fur stood, and let off the most savage, obscene snarl she had ever heard.

Her heart shattered. She knelt lower, lowering her hands and her head, peeping at the cat to avoid eye contact that might challenge him, then—

Mr Chin fled.

Before Eppie could curse, a pair of enormous hands closed in from behind her, catching her off-balance. She gave a yelp, but the first hand gripped her face and made her swallow the sound. The second hand was around her waist, just below her breast, pulling her back so hard and fast that the air expelling from her lungs made her see stars.

Her [Pain Suppression] activated. She forced her lungs to inflate. She fought off the agony. She twisted her body like a contortionist, spinning her torso like at cat’s, then struck at the figure who had arrested her.

Then her world spun. Her assailant parried—parried her blow. Before Eppie could even figure out what was happening, a leg swept her ankle, and she was halfway off balance and stumbling. A second blow struck her kidney, sending a string of flashing lights across her vision.

She heard a sound of rustling metal.

Her face slammed into the chain-link fence, which wasn’t painful, but it was pretty obvious that she had been cornered.

She looked up, gasping for air, her breath making angels as she dragged herself up.