Cass's apartment was, to put it nicely, a half-step above a landfill. The cracked walls were covered with peeling posters—old wanted notices, boxing ads, a faded pin-up of some long-dead model. The couch had cigarette burns. A rusted fan buzzed overhead like it was on its last legs. And the air? It smelled like gun oil, old sweat, and wet dog.
Wang dropped the moldy cheese bundle on the kitchen counter and fanned the air. "Jesus. You sure the cheese's the only thing stinkin' in here?"
Cass rolled her eyes, peeling off her jacket and tossing it over the back of a chair. "Shut up and check the closet. Should be a box with two gas masks. Might still work."
Wang raised an eyebrow. "Closet?"
"Bedroom. Far side. Big box. It's under a pile of... just look."
He sighed and headed toward the bedroom. The door creaked like a dying cat as he pushed it open.
The room wasn't better. The mattress was on the floor, sheets half-hanging off and covered in faded stains he didn't wanna investigate. A holster belt was looped around a bedpost. Dirty clothes were scattered everywhere—bras, boots, a sock with what looked like a bullet hole in it.
Wang muttered to himself, "How the fuck does a woman live like this?"
He opened the closet, and immediately regretted it.
It was a mountain of chaos. Clothes, busted crates, a shotgun missing its barrel, an old porno mag, and—finally—a soggy cardboard box crushed under a pile of mismatched boots.
He dragged the box out and popped it open.
There, among a mess of filters, tubing, a cracked walkie-talkie, and what looked like a dildo carved out of bone, sat something... ominously pink.
"Huh?" Wang picked it up cautiously.
It was about the length of his forearm, ribbed, silicone, and had a button on the base.
Wang stared at it like it might explode. Curiosity got the better of him. He flicked the button.
BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
"FUCK—!" Wang yelped and dropped it like it was a live grenade. The thing vibrated across the floor like a possessed eel and smacked into the wall with a wet thud before going still.
From behind him came a familiar cackle.
"Well, well," Cass said, arms crossed, leaning against the doorway. "Found my old friend, did ya?"
Wang turned, flushed. "What the hell is wrong with you?! You just leave that thing in there?!"
Cass was holding something now. Metal. Sharp. She stepped into the room holding what looked like a goddamn industrial-sized rat trap.
Wang blinked. "Uh. What the hell is that?"
Cass smirked, cocking an eyebrow. "Insurance."
"Insurance... for what?!" he asked, slowly backing away from both the trap and the cursed pink monster still buzzing faintly in the corner.
"You'll know soon enough." She set the rat trap gently down on the mattress like it was a sacred artifact. "That bait we picked up? Ain't just for Red. It might attract some... other pests."
"You've got rats?"
"I have had rats," she corrected. "Big fuckers. Bold. Last one stole one of my boots. Dragged it off like a goddamn trophy."
Wang shook his head and sighed, turning back to the box. After moving aside a bunch of old brass casings and a cracked VHS tape labeled "Bandit Booty Vol. 6", he finally saw them.
Two gas masks, tucked way at the bottom.
He grabbed them both and held them up. "Found 'em."
"Still got the filters?"
"One each."
Cass gave him a thumbs-up. "Good enough. That cheese's gonna kill us if we don't mask up."
Wang walked past her, still glaring. "Remind me to burn that fucking pink thing."
"You break it, you buy me a new one," she called out after him with a wicked grin.
Back in the main room, Cass was already stuffing the cheese into an old milk crate rigged with tripwire. The gas masks clanked on the table beside her. Wang sat down heavily on the couch, which squeaked ominously beneath him.
"Seriously," he said. "That thing in your closet? It had teeth."
Cass shrugged and grinned. "Buckle up mate, its time to catch a rat."
***
Cass led him through a rusted iron gate at the edge of an alley behind a butcher shop. The whole area reeked of blood, mildew, and something worse. She bent down next to a rust-coated sewer hatch and yanked it open with both hands. It let out a metallic screech that echoed through the alley like a death rattle.
Cass pulled a battered gas mask from her satchel and tossed it to Wang. "Strap up."
He caught it mid-air. "You said this thing 'might' still work."
"Quit whining." Cass snapped her own mask into place, voice muffled now behind cracked filters and a scratched faceplate. "It's better than smelling what's down there raw."
Wang muttered under his breath but slid the mask on anyway, adjusting the straps. The cracked rubber edges pressed against his cheekbones. It already smelled like death inside.
The moment the lid cracked open, the stench hit them like a physical slap.
"Holy fuck," Wang gagged inside his mask. "You sure we need to do this in there?"
Cass grabbed the sides of the ladder and gave him a look. "You wanna catch him or not?"
He grumbled something in Mandarin and followed her down.
The ladder went twenty feet into the dark. Every metal rung felt like it was one bad grip away from snapping. Wang's boots hit the concrete with a splash. A moment later, Cass dropped down beside him, flashlight flicking on with a click.
The beam sliced through the darkness, revealing walls crusted with algae and graffiti, and a shallow stream of sewer water glowing faintly green. Not neon. More like radioactive mold mixed with snot. Rats skittered along the edges.
"I've stepped in some shit before," Wang muttered, "but this is next level."
Cass didn't answer. She reached into her pack, carefully pulled out the moldy cheese wrapped in cloth, and placed it delicately on the trigger plate of her oversized rat trap.
"Alright," she whispered, "set and ready."
The two backed up behind a wall, crouching low in the shadows, the flashlight turned off. Only the eerie ambient glow of the slime river lit the tunnel.
Silence.
Then—sniff.
Another sniff sniff.
Then came the quick, scratchy tap-tap-tap of clawed feet on wet concrete. Something was moving fast.
Wang tensed, hand on his pistol. Cass already had hers out, safety off.
The thing came into view for just a flash—a hunched, twitchy shadow—and then—
SNAP.
"SKREEEEEEEEE—AAAAAGH!!"
The noise was ungodly. A cross between a man screaming and a sewer pipe violently unclogging. The tunnel echoed with it.
Cass clicked her flashlight back on, beam slicing across the filth-slick walls—and there he was.
Pinned.
A grotesque fusion of man and rat, halfway between science experiment and nightmare.
His frame was small and wiry—maybe 5'4 at most—but covered in greasy, patchy fur that looked like a mangy stray had mated with a junkie. His skin underneath was pale and grayish, with boils around his neck and collarbone. He wore nothing but a pair of shredded basketball shorts and a rusted chain as a belt. His ears were massive, rodent-like, twitching madly. His face—oh God, his face—was part-human, part-rat, with a long snout, yellow buck teeth, and beady red eyes that blinked against the light.
His tail, thick and pink, was crushed in the jaws of Cass's rat trap. Blood oozed out as he squirmed.
"AHHHHH! FUCK, YO! GET THIS SHIT OFF ME!" the creature screamed, voice high and nasal. "YO, THIS SOME BULLSHIT! FUCKIN' SET ME UP!"
Cass stepped forward, calm as hell, pistol trained on his head.
"Bingo," she said flatly. "Knew you couldn't resist the cheese, Snitch9."
Wang blinked. "That's Snitch9?"
"Yeah." Cass didn't even look back. "Half-man, half-rat, full-time snitch."
Snitch9 squirmed harder, slapping the ground with his clawed hands. "Ayo, I ain't do nothin' wrong! That cheese was just sittin' there, man! How you gonna bait me like that?! That's entrapment! That's against the Geneva fuckin' Convention!"
Wang tilted his head. "I'm pretty sure those don't apply here."
Cass ignored the rant. "Tail's caught good," she muttered, crouching next to him. "You start squealin', maybe I don't blow your goddamn kneecaps out."
Snitch9 froze, eyes bulging. "Shit, shit—okay! Okay! Chill! Fuck! I ain't tryna die today. Just lemme talk, damn!"
Cass nudged him with the muzzle of her gun. "Start with what you know about Red Beard."
Snitch9's breathing quickened. "Red? Shit, that's dangerous talk, lady! You don't ask about Red. Red finds out you askin', he'll skin me and wear me like a fuckin' hoodie."
Cass smirked. "He'll have to beat me to it."
Snitch9 whined. "Man, y'all always come to me when it's about that crazy bastard. Why not go to Bloat Joe or that fuckin' skinner down in Port Lincoln?"
Wang finally stepped in. "Because you always talk."
Snitch9 looked at him, eyes squinting. "You... You that dude. The fighter. The Jackie guy. You the one that beat Butcher, right?"
Wang didn't respond.
Snitch9 smiled, showing too many teeth. "Damn, you fine. If I was a chick, I'd sit on—"
Cass pistol-whipped him lightly across the cheek.
"AIGHT! AIGHT! No flirting! I get it!" he hissed, pawing his face. "Y'all some uptight motherfuckers."
Cass's voice went cold. "Last chance, ratboy. Where's Red?"
Snitch9 exhaled hard, tail twitching in pain. "Okay, okay, okay. Word is, he's moved outta the city. Somethin' about layin' low, said the Peacekeepers are sniffin' around too much. I heard he's camped out in an old mining pit north of Roxby. Used to be full of uranium or some shit."
Cass raised a brow. "You sure?"
Snitch9 nodded fast. "Swear on my tail—fuck, you already got my tail!"
Cass stood up slowly. "Good. Maybe we'll leave you a band-aid."
Wang turned to her. "You believe him?"
"Nope," Cass said. "But it's a start."
She turned to Snitch9 again. "Now, you're gonna tell us everything, or else your gonna lose more then that tail."
Q: If you saw a rat in your house, what would you do?