The Black Cat of Lowell
A short, overweight man in a battered black trenchcoat slipped through the doorway of Bubble’s Diner. He cast about a furtive look and stood for a moment, letting the rain drip from his coat.
He worked his way through the crowd of shuffling, standing patrons in the diner. He wormed into a booth in the dark corner.
A burly man dressed in work clothes plowed through the mass of people. He joined the stocky man soon after, sitting in the booth as if he owned it.
The bruiser’s face hardened and he mouthed something that the crowd would not hear. The man in the trenchcoat let out a cat-like yowl and furry ears seemed to sprout from his head. He sprang from the booth. He pointed a shaking forefinger at the man with a boxer’s build. A flash of purple-green energy lashed out, striking the seated man in the chest.
The large man slumped forward. His head landed on the booth’s table with a thump. The squat man bored back through the throng. His dirty trenchcoat flapped with his speed. He hastily threw a few greasy bills at the cashier behind the register as he ran out of the diner into the rainy night.
Author’s Note: This piece had its origin in ShadowRun, but I attempted to file the serial numbers off.