<span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong>Name:</strong>  Cheshire<br/><strong>Location: </strong> The Sewers<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>  No one, it's a disappearance act!<br/><br/>Bloody insufferable!<br/><br/>She was not a harlot! Not at all!  Nor, in fact, was she staying.  Oh no.  Not here.  The cat wasn't allowed out after dark.  No one knew that better than the cat did.  There were rules!  Things were important!  So he turned and....she just...kept going.  Oh she kept right on going.  Around a corner, down a hall, across some boxes and under a table.  There were ways.  There were always ways.  And there was a man at the door with a stick!  <br/><br/>For shame!<br/><br/>Oh for shame indeed.  Because she ripped her stocking wiggling out the crevice of a broken window into a side alley where the shadows were thick enough to suffocate.  One whole width of a building away from where heroics were going on.  Bare feet touched upon the grimy street; something groaned from beneath a dumpster and the cat made a mad-dash bolt for a sewer drain without a second though.<br/><br/>It was where all the rats were going.  So down she went, down and flat until she was hugging the ground and wiggling through the gape between alley and sewer.  Down again.  Down down down with a wet splash into the realm of rats and forgotten things.  It burned the skin.  Things went bump in the darkness and then silence descended.  Silence but for the chittering of rats.<br/><br/>But she knew their language.  She spoke it well with hisses and snarls and dirty wet stocking feet as she stomped off through the darkness, for who could see better in the darkness than the cat?  The only problem...was that some things one simply didn't want to see.  But at least even here...even here, she knew the way home.<br/></span>