Hit And Run

Note: msaholidayspirits 2021 Secret Santa gift for Titenoute! Featuring Titenoute's MSA OC Fiona! A fic of firsts: First time I've written an MSA fic with someone else's OC, first 3rd person non-specific POV I've tried in ages, and first time I've written solely pre-cave material. I had a couple mini-comics, sketches, and a profile to go off of for the OC Fiona. Fingers crossed that I landed somewhere close to an accurate portrayal and also that the literary police don't ram down my door. Pre-Cave gang gains a new friend, Merry Christmas! Cover photo by 5demayo at morguefile.

..........................................................................

"Artie, standing by the door and staring at it isn't going to make the food arrive faster."

"Prove it."

"And saying 'prove it' about every statement you don't like won't make it untrue."

"Prove it."

Lewis sighed, folding his hands behind his head and leaning back on Vivi's worn, puffy sofa. "Somebody's been in a real mood since he lost his queen."

"Prove it."

A wooden pawn bounced off the back of Arthur's head. He finally turned away from the door and locked glares with Vivi. She occupied the other end of the sofa and was bent over a well-polished wooden chess board. She pointed a captured bishop at him. "Hey, we all know you're hungry. We're hungry too. Food is on. The. Way. So get your butt back over here, it's your turn."

Arthur bent down and grabbed the pawn off the floor. He tossed it back at her and swivelled back around to face the door. Under the coffee table, Mystery snorted, then stretched out his forepaws and yawned.

Vivi's scowl deepened. "In about thirty seconds, I'll switch from Chess to Munchkin. Make game night last ALL night long."

Lewis rolled his eyes. "Give it a rest, Vee. He'll come around when he's not so hangry."

"Prove—"

"Arthur, swear to gods, I will cram a load of ever-loving proof up your—"

DING DONG

Arthur seized the doorknob, a gleeful grin on his face. He flung the door open. "About time! Can't wait for..." he trailed off. Behind him, Vivi and Lewis rose to their feet.

At their door stood a young woman in a Topolini's Pizza uniform, holding the expected pizza-warmer. Except it only held one box, not three. There were tooth marks on the edge of the battered box, and the delivery person was pretty tattered too. Her right cheek looked like it had been dragged along gravel, and the clothing tears all along her right side bore that out. Even the lime green helmet she wore was scuffed on the right side.

A stiff breeze passed her, entering the house. Mystery lifted his head, scenting the air. He crept out from under the coffee table, tail slung low and a growl in his throat.

The delivery person tried to smile, but the smile twisted as Mystery bared his teeth. She stumbled back a couple steps, then glanced over her shoulder. She shivered. Lifting her chin, she stepped forward–grimacing as she came down on her right foot–and faced Arthur squarely.

"T-Topolini's delivery. Did I make it in thirty?"

..........................................................................

Nobody mourned the jumbled remains of what had once been a beautiful oyster and anchovy pizza pie more than Arthur. Truthfully, nobody else mourned that one at all. Still, he had the grace to set the issue aside nearly as quick as his teammates. Vivi and Lewis had convinced the young woman—Fiona, or so her nameplate read—to come in and lie down on the couch. Mystery paced nearby, muzzled by Vivi's stern warnings to behave himself.