It wasn’t that easy.
No matter what he did he couldn’t seem to ditch these freaks. He hid in drainpipes and raced through yards. Once when he tried a dumpster. They almost had him surrounded, when he wisely chose to flee before he became trapped.
He had been moving more or less at random, just trying to stay alive. After over an hour of this, he found himself near Marty’s house. Marty was the coolest of the cooks he worked with. He hated to endanger him, but if he could just make sure he lost these street scum before he got to Marty’s place, then Talon could probably just lay low there for the rest of the night. Hell, if he kept his cool, Marty wouldn’t even have to know.
Putting the last of his energy into a frantic sprint, he raced into the complex that housed his friend.
When his banging was finally answered, he rushed into Marty’s room. “Geez Talon, nice to see you too,” the cook said. Marty was about seven years older than Talon’s twenty-five. Ruffled strings of dyed black hair, set off the ghostly pallor of his white face. Marty was a bit of a Goth, but Talon tried not to hold it against him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“More likely, you ran out of beer. It’s still four days till we get paid. You need to learn how to budget. Take me for instance, I-“
A loud bang rattled Marty’s front door. It was a mighty attack, like someone was trying to kick the door in with one blow.
“What the hell was that?” It only took Marty a few extra seconds to catch on. “Oh crap, you’re in trouble, aren’t you?”
“Is there another way out?” Talon asked.
“Damn Talon. What have you gotten me into? I’m going to kick your ass-“
Another loud bang sounded on the door. “Marty?”
“Arrr,” he growled. “This way, but if those losers trash my cube, I’m taking it out on you.”
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