<strong>The Blacksmith</strong>buying his way to the wildcat warehouse (and waiting for everyone else to arrive)<br/><br/>Clank thud clank thud, the sounds of Mason’s metal foot and boot made across the wooden plank floor of the saloon was the only sound heard.  What few that were in the bar offered only a brief glance at Mason before returning to their own business.  When the wildcats were around, the folks kept to themselves.  Any eye contact was more than enough invitation for a wildcat to harass someone or worse.<br/><br/>Clank thud clank thud, the floorboards creaked under the weight of Mason’s metal chasis as he approached the wildcat’s table.  A wildcat began to purr adding to the tension, Mason knew that it wasn’t always a good thing when the cat began to purr.  Slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash.  He thumbed a few bills out and laid it on the table.  The price for admission and safe passage to the warehouse, Mason hated paying the toll but it was the only way to get the good stuff.  He was done with picking through junkyards for scrap.  If he wanted quality, he knew where to go and he had to pay for it, dearly.<br/><br/>On edge, Mason gave the wildcats his best emotionless stone stare.  Their eyes freaked him out the most, yellow with those vertical slits... He didn’t trust the damned abominations, freaks of nature is what he thought of them at best.  The woman at the table was an odd sight, but he didn’t question her, it wasn’t any of his business.  He just wanted to get his shit from the warehouse and get out.  A wildcat scooped up the money, counted it and then handed it to the captain.  Once he got the captain’s nod, Mason excused himself to the bar. Clank thud clank thud.<br/><br/>“Hey, whar’s Rosie?” he asked the barkeep.  Rosie was a whore, plain and simple.  Almost as ugly as Mason himself, he supposed that’s why he liked her.  It was a shame what those damn cat’s had done to her, and added with the harsh desert environment, the desert flower that was Rosie, had wilted and lost it’s beauty, but she was still as spicy as she ever was.<br/><br/>“Ain’t here” was all the bartender said about the matter, “what ya drinkin?”<br/><br/>“Water, an some 50 weight if ya got it.” Mason said.<br/><br/>He knew the routine, the wildcats didn’t move until after dark.  They kept the warehouse a secret and for good reason too.  Every time he visited the place, he was blindfolded and hogtied.  Not that he couldn’t break out of the restraints easily, but if he was going to the warehouse, he had to play by the cat’s rules.<br/>