J.H. White's Puss in Boots: Book I

Chapter Two

Puss drowsily opened his eyes and rubbed his head, swearing quietly in his native language. His vision soon adjusted to the fluorescent lights that had been blurry dots seconds ago, and he saw a young female cat slowly approaching him, mewing softly. Puss got to his feet, and he began to explore his new surroundings, making the cat step aside by kindly saying, "Excuse me, miss." The place was full of felines; the majority of them were walking on all fours, which surprised him. He guessed they were just trying to keep true to older culture, but personally he considered it almost primitive. Suddenly, a nut-brown cat sporting thick, long dreadlocks and an eyepatch emerged out of seemingly nowhere.

"Hey, welcome, mon," he said in a heavy Jamaican accent.

"Buddy, you mind telling me what this place is?" Puss said, trying to sound as intimidating as possible.

"Oh, this is a dance club. I'm Ziggy, the DJ. Nice to meet you." Puss was in no mood for dancing right now, so he started looking for an exit.

"Wait! Nobody leaves here without a Tuesday night dance fight," Ziggy said. Puss groaned.

"Ugh, fine." Ziggy's face lit up as he walked over to an old-fashioned turntable and blew the dust off of a record.

"Your anonymous contestant is right over there," Ziggy announced as he motioned to the right. Puss turned to face a black cat with areas of white, their face completely obscured by a leather mask. Only their eyes were slightly visible, and they seemed to be burning a hole in Puss' head. "Take your positions!" Ziggy shouted as Puss and the mystery individual squared up. This is going to be too easy, Puss thought to himself.

Ziggy slid the record into place and hit play. "Diablo Rojo" blasted through the wall-mounted speakers, and the masked cat had the first little routine. Puss had to admit the footwork was impressive by any standard, and the other cats seemed to share his unspoken opinion, meowing in praise. Now, it was Puss' turn, and he danced like he never had before, to the crowd's satisfaction, although he didn't get as much applause as the other feline, wondering if the entire thing was partially biased. The masked cat's response was an even more vigorous routine, with an angry hiss in the middle.

"How dare you do the Litter Box at me?!" Puss shouted, full of rage. He decided to fight fire with fire, and broke into an even more ridiculing little frolic. He was going to show this amateur why he was known as "Frisky Two Times" on the dance floor. His contestant unsheathed a dagger, and growled ferociously.

"Ooh," Ziggy said. "Looks like someone's tired of dancing." Puss smirked at his competitor. He was the most feared dueler in all of Spain; he would have this clown begging for mercy in no time. He drew his own sword and stepped closer to his current foe, his Corinthian boots clicking on the tiled floor. The opponent pressed a small jewel on the hilt of their weapon, and the blade doubled in size as they ran at Puss. He swore, and their swords met, and then pulled apart, and then met again. Puss almost immediately disarmed his enemy, bringing up his boot and kicking the knife all the way into a leche keg. He smiled happily, but not for long, as the competitor did a few backflips for show and then hopped up to retrieve their sword. The fight resumed, and just when Puss was certain that he was about to be the victor, his own saber got forcefully kicked and stuck in the ceiling.

He began to retreat slowly as the other contestant's blade came closer and closer to his neck. He needed some kind of bludgeon, and fast. Turning around, he grabbed the only thing in sight; a guitar, smashing it into the side of his attacker's head. They groaned, bending over in pain. Suddenly, the mask was pulled off and to Puss' shock, an absolutely gorgeous female cat stood in front of him. She was outraged. "You hit me in the head with a guitar?!" she exclaimed furiously. Puss stuttered, trying to find the right words. She put her sword back into her belt and hissed "amateur" at Puss, a sickening insult for someone of his level of swordsmanship. She turned her back on him and disappeared into a back room shielded by a thin layer of cloth.

"Wait, señorita!" Puss begged her. He tapped his boot on the ground, and the reverberation made his weapon fall back into his own belt. He tried to run after her, but he tripped and crashed to the ground. All the cats began to chortle, and Puss' face grew crimson as he heard Ziggy laughing the loudest behind him.

"Looks like cats don't always land on their feet, mon!" he said mockingly. Puss wasn't about to become a laughingstock, so he retrieved his sword and backed Ziggy into a corner rapidly. "Hey, no hard feelings?" the Jamaican cat said, visibly fearing for his life. Puss impaled him instantly, and sighed as he cleaned the blood that was currently in a pool on the tiled floor off his footwear.

"You looking for trouble?" Puss heard a cat behind him say as the sound of a gun being cocked also reached his ears. He whipped around and held up his sword as the gunman shot a lone bullet. In milliseconds, the tiny piece of metal pinged off the blade and tore through the other cat's skull.

"Who's next?!" Puss asked menacingly. Nobody dared to respond. With that, he walked off to find the female cat. As he did, he failed to notice one of the cantina's patrons making a quick phone call.

"Is this the Comandante? Yes, I need to report a double homicide," the cat said.