Open The Slups Not On My Watch.

[Jill (The Beast)]

The sun had only just risen in Bully Harbor, a few strands of sunlight peeking out from over the horizon, and Beast was already up and getting dressed. The city never slept. So neither would they. Today, it was particularly important for them to get on patrol as soon as possible. Beating Day. It sent a shiver down their spine. Such a callous tradition. Beast knew they would be powerless to stop it entirely, but they were determined to help whom they could.

Beasts' first stop was their little hideaway, where a small group of orphans, vermin and woodlander alike, lived secreted away from the prying eyes of Bully Harbor. They slipped into an alleyway and out onto the street, where the kits were huddled around a trashcan fire. Beast approached them, and got down on one knee.

"Now, kits..." Beast started. "It's too dangerous to go out today. It's Beating Day. Promise me that you'll stay hidden and safe. Please."

There was a muttering of agreements from the kits, but a single stern glare from Beast made them all reply in unison: "Okay, Auntie."

Beast sighed in relief, giving each of them a quick hug before they were off, cape flourishing dramatically behind them. They clambered up a drain pipe to reach the rooftops, starting to dash across them as they began their patrol of The Slups. Justice, after all, would not dispense itself, and there was going to be plenty of it to give out today.

 

[Sean Wicke]

Sean hated this holiday. It irked him to no end that the residents of this 'Gates-forsaken empire were so bloodthirsty that they required not one, but two, holidays devoted to wanton violence. At least this time he wasn't being specifically targeted. As the ale bottle shattered across his back, he hunched, his ears flattening in irritation at the drunken guffaws of the stoat who had thrown it. He was tempted to gather up the shattered fragments in his fist, force them in the beast's mouth, and hold it closed until he swallowed... but no, he was trying to be a little better now than he'd been before. He had the Beast in the Iron Mask, the latest incarnation thereof that was, to mentor now, and he'd learned that his usual violent instincts weren't in keeping with their moral code. Instead he flicked his collar to brush the glass fragments off and carried on, scowling threats of murder at all around him.

~~~

Mina Rose Brewer ran through the streets, panic in her eyes as she kept glancing over her shoulder to see if the crowd of (to her eyes) ruffians wielding a motley assortment of clubs, chair legs, and other blunt instruments was still after her. So far they'd followed her from the alley she'd used as a shortcut on her way to work, laughing among themselves as they chased the frightened vixen, as if it were all some massive joke. "Help!" she called to the passersby, pleading for assistance, but beasts kept glancing at her and merely shaking their heads as if she was the silly one. What was wrong with this town, she thought in fury and fear as she hastened down the streets, less and less certain with each pawstep that she'd taken the right turn.

She took a turn into an alley, hoping it would cut back to a street that she knew, then stopped, panic setting in. There was an unwieldy stack of crates blocking the whole of the alley, forming a rough barricade. Mina Rose started toward it, desperately looking over it for a safe path by which to climb, and saw only danger. She heard the raucous laughter of the beasts coming into the alley behind her, and, fearful, she started to climb.

She made it three quarters of the way up before the safe pawholds ran out. She hung there, nearly twenty feet in the air, as taunts and jeers drifted up from below. She glanced down, dizzying at the height, and had to tighten her grip as her position felt increasingly precarious. The crates this high up felt unstable, and she was afraid that if she climbed any higher, she would fall either to crash into the ground below, be buried beneath a cascade of crates, or to whatever the crowd below intended. She could feel herself hyperventilating, and she dug her claws into the wood, desperate for any sense of security. "Please!" she called out, hoping that someone, anyone, would hear.