Snippet #1773577

Bzzzzt...Bzzt...Bzzzzt

One blue eye fluttered open. It found a large green eye starting back at it. Markus jerked up, knocking Margo from his chest. "Ai, Margo, don't stare at me like that. It makes me feel like you're trying to eat my soul." The man shook himself, jerking sleep from the very core of his body. What time was it?

Bzzzzt...Bzzt...Bzzzzt

And what was that sound? Blinking the sweet film of sleep from his eyes, Markus searched the tiny table next to the couch for his phone. And knocked it off. The black chunk of wired metal thunked on the floor, almost blending in with the dark carpet. The carpet he'd managed to turn black. It hadn't come that way. The original color had been a ugly brown, but Mark found it easier to hide a mess when the Carpet was darker. Well, unless it was a light colored mess. But black cat equaled black fur, so black carpet was the next logical step. Mark shot a look at Margo, who was staring back at him from her new spot on his knees. "Hey, Margo. Fetch." He said. He could almost see her eyebrow raise. I don't think so. her entire expression told him.

Ah, felines. They never did anything to make themselves worth keeping, but Markus couldn't help but love the slender pitch cat. She flicked her tail at him and blinked slowly. Mark rolled his eyes and sighed. Well then. He stretched down to get his phone, and the slight animal leaped from his lap onto the floor, stalking away as the man overbalanced at the sudden loss of ten pounds from his knees and joined his phone on the floor. "Damn you, Margo. You did that on purpose!" He called after the retreating tail. "For that I'm not gonna feed you until lunchtime, so there!" A slight smile lifted his face however. Ah, it was rather sad to say, but the cat was his favorite companion in the world. And she seemed to like him alright as well.

Mark flipped open his phone, the old piece of junk that it was, and found it to be much later that he would have liked. And that he had a new message. "Oh, hello, what is this?" he said to himself, looking at the sender's number. That sequence certainly heralded something interesting. Because usually one didn't get texts from Jeremy. Especially when one wasn't any kind of officer or anything. Just a member too lazy to do anything but hang around, deface some walls now and again.

Oh, that meant trouble. Depictioners downtown. Three, all perhaps trouble enough for Jeremy to request back-up. First thing Mark did was forward the message to all the Hounds he had on his phone, which weren't many, and then to pull on a pair of jeans and a clean t-shirt. No need to go fancy. Of course, he did need some metal. More specifically, he needed his gun. His hand jumped slightly when he picked it up, but his grip stayed firm enough for Mark to keep his hold on the weapon. "Not now, you better not start that up now." He sternly told his hand. Margo stretched on his leg, her paws reaching the pocket of his jeans. She gave a curling mewl of question, but Mark brushed her off. "I'll play with you later, Mar, but right now I have other things to do. Don't open anything, don't eat the drapes, got it?" He told her, giving his friend and ear scratched before relocating her to the couch.

Time to go have some fun. even if the message had just said to scout and not make an appearance. Something good was bound to happen. Mark legged his way to where the text had told him the Depictioners would be, and stretching, he mapped the scene from the corner of the street, out of the sight line of the three Ds. He spotted Jeremy, and a young woman standing near him. Ah, four Depictioners, not three. there was the little German one, there was the crazy Heretic one who Mark had to give props to for being, well, him, even if he was a Depictioner, and there was the Riku guy, as well as the woman, Yuma, or something like that. They seemed to be a bit tense, and the German seemed to be cowed, hiding behind the much taller man who seemed to be prepared to fight at any moment.

What to do, what to do?