LashCats - The Awakening

                                        LashCats - The Awakening

         Distant flashes of light punctuated by rolls of thunder lit the dark lot hidden behind rows of black windowed buildings. Moist gusts of wind blew through, tugging at waterlogged debris that stubbornly refused to be moved. Reminders of the vicious storm that was now headed out to sea after ravaging the man made island of Angel's Rest.
         Water dripped off shadowy rooftops to be carried by the breeze. One  drop splashed on a dark furred face. Jet black lids flew open revealing cat like eyes of pure gold.
         Subject One blinked and took a long, deep breath.. She twitched, willfully moving for the first time. Then she screamed.
         Pain blossomed through the hybrid's mind. The downloaded data, fourteen and a half years worth, tried to assimilate all at once. Her head pounded as if someone was forcing the information into her head with a sledgehammer.
         Sensory overload compounded the agony. Hypersenses more acute than mankind could comprehend tried to describe her surroundings. The thundering of each drop of water striking the wet ground. The damp stench of rotting garbage and human waste. The cool wind ruffling her exposed fur. The comforting darkness ripped away by distant flashes of lightning.
         It was more than she could bear. The hybrid rolled over vomiting up sour bile onto the filthy plascrete. She mewled pitifully.
         Her sisters began to stir. They were identical copies; short hair cut in a wedge, black fur exposed from their uncovered faces and tails. The rest of their bodies encased in black skin tight body armor.
          The only thing thing that distinguished them was color. Subject One was marked by gold pupils and matching metallic hair. Each of the others sported their own hue. Subject Two in azure blue; Subject Three in crimson; Subject Four in silver and the fifth in neon green. Even their armor was emblazoned with matching lines framing their faces then draping down their chests and around to their backs. Slashes of color also marked ankles and wrists.
          They too suffered from the awakening sickness, though not as severe. Except their silver haired sibling who curled into a fetal position whimpering softly. She grasped her pounding forehead as if that could forcibly stop the pain.
         Subject Four had been designed to accept more information than her sisters but could not assimilate the data properly. Every time she opened her quicksilver eyes the agony became unbearable. Schematics superimposed over every object that fell into her line of sight. Numbers and measurements swam in her vision. She screwed her eyes shut and cried, praying for the torment to end.
         The others began to stir. Programmed memories synced with unused muscles. The Artificials began to explore.
         Like newborn kittens they tentatively sniffed at their surroundings poking and prodding at everything within reach. They breathed deep taking in scents no matter how sweet or vile. Relished in the damp wind that blew through the still night carrying new odors beyond their tiny lot.
         Number One slid to her feet, legs wobbling unsteadily as she fought to maintain her balance. The hybrid dropped to her hands and knees after one failed step. Her tail swished back and forth angrily at her failure.
         She tried again, regaining her footing. The Artificial took one successful step, then another. This time she did not fall.
         Her motions where mechanical at first; slow and exaggerated. That changed as her confidence grew. The hybrid became accustomed to her body. Soon she was fluid grace personified.
         While Subject Four remained sprawled on the ground the other three attempted to mimic their bold golden eyed sibling. They fared no better on their first attempts. Subject Two had the most trouble. Her body and mind were at war with each other refusing to work together.
         She watched her sisters, envious of their physical mastery. A groan from her prone sibling drew her attention. Crawling on all fours she made her way to Subject Four's side. She reached out tentatively, wanting to help but unsure of what to do.
          Her hand dropped slowly. Gloved fingers brushed through damp silver hair and rested on dark skin. Contact was made.
         Electricity sparked between the two. Like a static shock but so much more. In one instant their souls were laid bare to each other. They were one mind. One body.
         Subject Two yelped and jumped back. Her sister's pain was unbearable. The bond between them was broken but she took something with her. Part of her sister's agony.
         The veil of hurt that shrouded Subject Four's view of the world was lifted. She gazed in thankful wonder at the sibling that reduced her torment to a dull ache. Subject Two stared back, wide eyed from the experience. Her pain receded quickly replaced by a dark foreboding.
         A sudden crash disturbed the stillness of the lot. The sisters turned in unison towards the source. Subject One slid off the pile of debris that had clattered to the hard ground. She landed on her hands and feet smiling wickedly.
          “Where we?” Number Five slurred, shaking drops of water out of her neon green hair. Her mind knew the words but her mouth was unfamiliar with the motions needed to speak.
         Four tilted her head and shrugged, silver eyes gleaming in the near darkness. “Don know.”
         She studied the piles of garbage strewn around them. Designs and diagrams flashed through her mind. Raw data flooded the hybrid's memory. This connected to that would create something new and different. The effect was nauseating causing her to whine and choke back rising bile.
         Subject Two dropped into a crouch at a shrill cry that echoed in the distance. A nagging feeling of loss tugged at the back of her mind. Something bad was coming. She could feel it.
         “Here not safe.” The Artificial hissed.
         One's grin only widened. “We safe.... I safe.”
         Crimson eyes blinked. Subject Three noticed the oval tags hanging from her sister's necks. Her fingers grasped the one hanging from her own collar and traced a finger over the red letters. They seemed to glow at her touch.
         “What this?” The Artificial said struggling with the enunciation. “FireLash?”
         Her siblings followed suit, reading their own tags aloud as best they could.
         “WhipLash,” Subject One hissed. 
         Subject Two followed. “BackLash.”
         “PowerLash?” the green haired Artificial slowly enunciated.
         The letters blurred in front of the quicksilver eyes of Subject Four. She squinted, bringing them into focus. “TechLash.”
         Speech was difficult for them. They puzzled over the strange words until their silver sister broke the silence.“Names.” She announced simply.
         The girls accepted her world. Somehow they knew she was right. That mystery solved, they continued the exploration of their birthplace. Their artificial knowledge was becoming reality as they experienced their tiny slice of the island.
         The leaden sky began to grow brighter. Dawn was coming. Though, there, shadows of tall buildings kept the hybrids in darkness.
         “Hungry.” Complained WhipLash.
         Her sisters felt the emptiness in their bellies as well. There were plenty of small puddles to satisfy their thirst but nothing edible in the trash. Other scavengers had already been there.
         WhipLash froze and pointed her nose into the air. There was a new scent on the wind. Old sweat and stale alcohol. The others caught the odor and unconsciously moved closer together. Wedge shaped ears swiveled detecting plodding footfalls growing closer. Fear clashed with nervous excitement.

         Juan Pereyra was a sailor by trade in times gone by. He lost his love of the sea when his body aged and sagged. Angel's Rest lured him in hopes of finding his fortune, but here he was living in a slum no different than the one he'd grown up in on the main land. Every morning started a new day of pain in his gnarled arthritic body and he drank heavily to keep his sanity. Juan was not a nice man and did what he needed to survive.
         He was not happy this morning. The night had not gone well at all. For the first time in months he actually had more than a few bills in his pocket and he got stinking drunk at his favorite bar. He had just woken up in the trash outside the closed tavern, head pounding, penniless with a new set of pains and bruises added to his gnarled body.
         “Never could keep my mouth shut after a few shot of the good stuff.” He muttered aloud.
         It was a long, slow, miserable trip back to his overpriced shamble of an apartment. On top of his aches his bladder was ready to burst. Normally he'd just whip it out and piss anywhere, but lately the police had been making early morning patrols. Just to say they did. This was the quiet time, after the night's evils were done and before they could begin for the following day. The old man had enough troubles without getting caught flashing the family jewels.
         There was an alley in sight. He'd just duck in and relieve himself. Humming an old sea chantey he unzipped his fly and staggered into the darkness. He let out a huge sigh while his bladder drained. As he was finishing up he could have sworn there were voices deeper into the shadows. Normally he'd limp away as fast as he could, but who ever was speaking sounded young. Maybe female. Juan licked his dry lips and wobbled deeper into the ally.
         Maybe this little side trip would make up for a lousy night. Juan thought. He'd never made it to the Golden Hole, the only whore house he could afford. There it was again. The old man listened carefully but  couldn't tell who was talking. Girl, boy, it didn't matter. He'd take out his frustrations out on them. Any child out this late needed a rude awakening. Hurrying as fast as he could in the darkness, he plowed forward into the garbage strewn back lot. 
          At first the ex-sailor saw nothing and thought maybe he'd imagined . It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the inky blackness. He couldn't believe his luck. Standing not ten feet away were three, four, no five girls! They looked like young teens until he noticed the triangular ears and twitching tails.
         Toons! One of his shipmates told him about the specialized hybrids. How they were originally developed in Korea, the first practical human/animal fusion for mass production. Of course their intended purpose was the sex trade. Artificials didn't have the rights natural-borns did. They had special programming to act like they hated their clients advances, but once started, their bodies couldn't reset. Juan had never been able to afford one and now here were a handful!
         Yes, they were here, but why? He scanned the darkness once more searching for police, a pimp, anyone who'd be watching this treasure trove of whores. Nothing else moved. Alcohol fueled lust overcame caution and he boldly stepped forward heart pounding. It was too good to be true.
          “Hey little girls...”  He cooed.” What you doin'  back here this time of night? Eh?” 
         The sisters stood motionless, curiosity gripping them. TechLash tilted her head to one side as felines tend to do.
          “Come here to Papa Juan, we play a little game.”  He commanded. His friend had told him you need to be firm with Toons. It was all part of the experience. “You like this game. I bet you play before.” He laughed.
         The old man's zipper was still down and he started undoing his belt. He squinted through the gloom at the five petite figures in front of him. They still hadn't moved. “Come here I say!”  He shouted , voice echoing off the damp concrete. The pain hadn't dulled much, and he was quick to anger.
         “You! Come here now!”  Juan shouted pointing a finger at TechLash.
          The silver one looked back at her sisters, “What he? “ Her voice was calm, curious, with no trace of fear or respect. Juan's face flushed with rage and he stomped forward. His meaty hand shot forward and missed wrapping around the crimson Artificial's upper arm instead.
         FireLash squeaked in surprise and the temperature around her soared. Steam rose from the  wet ground. The old sailor howled and jumped back as blisters formed on his burnt palm. She dropped into a crouch and her sisters surrounded the intruder.
          “You burn me you filthy slat!”  Juan bellowed. His good hand wadded into a fist , and he raised it to strike. The angry glares of the others stopped him. It finally penetrated his alcohol addled mind that something was seriously wrong here. He backed away holding his seared hand.
          “I know he.”  Whiplash hissed, smiling a Cheshire cat grin. “He meat.” 
         Standing with hands held at her sides, fingers straight and spread wide, jet black organic steel sprouted from her nails. The flesh rippled as eleven centimeter blades slid forward. Wicked razor sharp barbs topped the knuckles of each hand once the claws locked into place.
          “This not real!”  He panted. “Can't be real!”  The old man backpedaled scrambling away from the creatures.
          “Meat.”  The sisters chanted in unison following the terrified intruder. Nearly falling, Juan turned and limped away fast as he could.
         BackLash raised a gloved hand, palm down. Cold air erupted down the alley way freezing the retreating sailor to the bone. His breath came in gasping clouds as the damp pavement frosted and turned to ice. Slipping and sliding trying to keep his footing, Juan Pereyra fought a losing battle. With a strangled cry he fell backwards landing hard, head first. Dark blood oozed from a gash in his scalp. Groaning, he struggled on the frozen ground.
         Nostrils flared as the scent of warm fresh blood entered the air. Smiling wickedly, WhipLash streaked towards the fallen man in a blur of gold and black. She kicked him back down and straddled his chest. Leaning close, almost nose to nose, she drank in the scent of  his fear.
         “You no hunter here.” She whispered, fangs glistening in the pre-dawn light. “We not your prey.” Her claws caressed his face, drawing slick, wet lines of red. “You our prey.”
         WhipLash's hand flashed across his throat cutting Juan's scream short.  She held her wet claws out watching dark liquid drip from the blades. Below her, the old man's body seizured choking on his own blood. He gave a final gasp and lay still.
         Rolling off and kneeling next to the body her claws sliced through the air cutting away his worn clothing and carving into the flesh. Turning back to her sisters she uttered one lone word. “Meat.”
         The kill was hers and she would feed first. WhipLash ripped off hand full of thigh and chewed noisily. Her sisters came forward slowly drawn by animal instinct and hunger. Tentatively they tasted the carcass then followed their gold sisters example and began to feast on the tough flesh. Only PowerLash resisted the hunger. This was wrong and she would not join in. She stood, arms crossed over her chest, in silent disapproval.