Zib's Kid

Chapter 1

He had no reason to complain. He knew that. The rational part of his mind was telling him he got lucky. At a time when most people were struggling to get by, especially with the new law in place and him being an artist, he should be more than content with finding a job that paid well, a job doing what he was supposed to do: play music.

He also got along nicely with Mitzi, his ex and his boss' wife, and not bad at all with the man himself. A lesser man would have him kicked out of his own band or would be making his life miserable by rubbing it in his face... But Atlas was a classy man, and never even sent an odd smirk his way.

He got along with his band, he had everything he needed and then some, he had no reason to be feeling... Blue, let alone miserable.

Though perhaps that was a bit of a harsh word. No, that wasn't it... He was feeling... He was feeling nothing in particular, he was feeling...

Numb.

The free drinks and other substances he took helped with that.

He tried not to think of the illicit stuff. It wasn't so bad, just selling something that was supposedly illegal, he told himself. It wasn't any different from him consuming all that. Hell, he wasn't even selling the stuff, just playing music at the place.

He tried to drown and push back the feeling at the back of his head telling him it was all going to end badly. He tried to have fun with the rest of the folks at the Lackadaisy, with the rest of the band, happy to be established somewhere nice for once, to put on a cheerful attitude like he used to have...

But for some reason it just didn't work like that.

He was drifting. Walking through the streets, nearly staggering, so hunched over he wasn't looking where he walked any more than his shoes under him. Suddenly he felt a bump against his leg.

He looked over to see... a kid sitting on his butt, and understood. The boy came running down the street and crashed into him. He was looking up at him with this sad, panicked look.

"Hey kid, you okay?"

Without an answer, the boy got back up and ran past him. Before he could process that odd encounter, two cats ran past him yelling. "You're dead you little brat!"

The fur on his tail and the back of his neck bristled, but it took him a moment to be able to move. He just stood there, watching as the little one scurried past a fence into an alley only for the bigger guys to jump over, and then he heard something hitting something.

When he finally reacted, he did so by instinct. He couldn't just walk away, even though perhaps it was the smart thing to do. He ran to the place and peeked over the fence.

There was a small mountain of trash accumulated against a wall and the two guys were digging through it.

"Hey, uh... What's going on?"

The two cats ignored him and kept digging, grumbling insults as they went.

"Uh... Excuse me?" No response. "Hey, you, stop!"

That got a reaction. The two toms stopped what they were doing for a second and looked his way.

"Whaddya want, punk?"
"Uh... Just, what are you guys doing?"
"What's it to ya?" asked one while the other went back to digging through the trash.
"Oh, come on. What could that little boy do to get you guys so upset?"
"Is it your brat?"
"Uh... no-"
"Then shut it."
"Well, yes, but... Oh come on! He's just a kid, what did he do?"
"What indeed."
"No, really, did he break something? Steal something? Come on, throw me a bone here."

At that moment he had to dodge a chicken bone that went flying right over his head.

"Ha! How about that?"
"Are ya dumb? Just beat it."