The crack of the .308 cal AR-30 was loud enough to twitch my ears. I
saw my target drop to the ground in cover, as the shell of my round
clanked against the old hardwood floor. Time to change positions before I
give away my location I thought to myself. I pulled out of the room I
set up in, and dropped down a floor through a collapsed hole in the
flooring. I set up again, covering myself as much as possible in the
shadows of the abandoned apartment room. Looks like a lot of chaos in
the streets, civilians are pointing in all directions at different
windows. I looked around the streets through my scope, my target was
gone… milk me.
I woke up the following morning, licked myself clean, coughed the
occasional hairball. I put on my black suit, and grabbed my gun case.
“Mr. Whiskers” they call me. I fought in the great Fur Wars of 1946,
scored the most kills of my platoon. Sadly, I love killing, it became a
hobby of mine… At first they were simple murders, mass murders, a serial
killer if you prefer… It was so satisfying to see the headline of every
news paper “Another 20 dogs murdered”. However, it was just too easy… I
wanted a challenge in my life, to make it a specialized career. I met
the strangest cat… He calls himself “Tron Cat”, and he’s the one that
gave me the business in a Hitman career. Years have gone by though… The
business has collapsed ever since Nyan Cat Industries took over. Its
been hard, but I’ve learned from the best, and I became my own Killin’
Kitty.
I set back up in the abandoned apartments. This place is dreadful, I
should have brought my ball of yarn. I looked out of my scope and
adjusted my sights. “Where is he…” I thought to myself as I scanned the
streets for my expected target. “Meow! What’s thi–” PEW. I instantly
laid down. “What the furball!?” PEW, PEW, PEW. I rolled up into a ball, I
saw the incoming fire this time… Lasers? There was a long silence… it
was dead quiet. The second I got back on my sniper rifle, it hit me. It
was the most painful thing I have ever experienced. A laser round went
through the very end of my tail. I looked back at it to watch my fur
singe off from the end of it, the heat of the blast closed up my wound
quickly. Focusing back on the task at hand, I heard the weirdest sound…
getting louder and louder… “nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan”, each
“nyan” was followed by a laser round, and it made those sounds quickly.
The entire apartment was being shot up, I fell down the collapsed hole,
as lasers burned by my head on the way down. I landed and looked back
up, the building was catching on fire, I had to get out, fast.
I dashed through the streets, which were for some unknown reasons
were completely empty. I shortly realized I left my gear in the
apartment, no chance of recovering it now… A storm of lasers were
hailing down upon me, I didn’t lose speed, and I didn’t stop
zig-zagging. So this is how it all ends, i’m going to die by the most
annoying sounding, 8-bit cat the internet seems to love and adore. I
miss Keyboard Cat… Why did he have to pass away? I feel something inside
of me… Building up…
*COUGH* A hairball erupts out of the black cat onto a computer
monitor. “MR. WHISKERS!” Rachel yelled, “Falling asleep on my computer is
one thing, but coughing hairballs all over the monitor is another!” She
cleaned up the mess and got on the computer. “What is this?” She looks
into the internet history, its nothing but Nyan Cat, Sniper Rifles, and
massive balls of yarn.
-675 words
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