Some are born into the ghetto, and others are exercised here like some kind of shabby ghost. My sister, Anna was born here; I was deposited here like an old penny that fell from a drunken man’s pocket. My old man served on a star ship that transported cargo from one planet to another, or so I was told. He sent money to my mom as often as he could. At least I could thank him for that, but not much else. He was only around long enough to get my mom pregnant twice. By the time I turned 16 the money stopped rolling in. Nobody knew what happened to him, or in my case not care. All I know is that a year later with no gold Anna and I were kicked out of private school.

Later that year my mom picked up some kind of disease. She was a tough old cat (about 30% cat) and wouldn’t admit that something was wrong.

Eventually, the disease took over her body and she was in constant pain. We didn’t even have the money to pay for her funeral; it was the Church of Our Ancestors, who coughed up the gold. The healers we took her to only knew it was some kind of rare disease that would take a lot of gold help her, gold we didn’t have.

Now I could go into how the North-Central Posse formed or how we battled the Tanglewood Gang from taking our territory, but I don’t want to bore you with the details.

The day began like any other. I got up about 6:00 and eventually, dragged my sister out of the bed. It was her turn to make breakfast. I’ve been making my sister cook because the rest of the gang tends to show up and mooch off of us when I do. After the fourth attempt, she eventually oozed out of the bed. Even then, it took her 30 minutes to make two bowls of cereal.

“I tell you it’s a conspiracy, bro. The King of Hearts is ‘bout to get merced!” She mumbled as she inhaled another scoop of cereal into her mouth.

I rolled my eyes.

”What‘cha’ goin’ on ‘bout now?”

She held up a deck of cards, probably ‘borrowed’ from the pool hall where she works as part time help. Anna spread out the kings next to each other.

“Look he’s da false king. Jus’ look at all these dudes with their mustaches, Ol’ Hearts, if dat’s his real name, doesn’t have one!” She pointed to the king’s clothing on the cards. “See, here, spades on this asshole’s robes, King Club has clubs, King Diamond has his bling-bling but Hearts ain’t wearin’ shit!”

I leaned closer to examine the cards, hoping to find a hole in her logic. I couldn't seem to be able to counter it.

“Lookie here,” Anne said pointing to the cards again “all these asshole kings have only one hand out.”

“Probably jackin’ off wit the other,” I muttered.

She ignored me and continued.

“False King o’ Hearts has two on his card,” she said as if winning the galactic lottery her eyes get wide “Here! The assassin’ sleeve is different! I told you he’s a‘bout to get merced!”

I lean back down to examine the cards again “Ah, so it is.”

Anna crossed her arms and beamed with pride.

“So, who’s getting’ Merced?” inquired the soft female voice behind me.

It was Henite, my neighbor. She pushed her short curly brown hair from ears and moved closer to the table.

“Well?” Henite inquired again.

“Don’t you knock?” I interrupted before Anna could start up again.

“I switched to a better grade of gas,” came her snarky reply.

Anna picked up the King of Hearts card and said, “Maybe he’s doin’ the Queen of Clubs, could explain the smile on her face. Maybe her old man got jelly and sent a 'sin to take his scrub-ass out.”

Henite (we usually call her Henna for short) unzipped her leather jacket and poured herself a bowl of cereal. Anna explained her conspiracy theory one more time as Henna listened in-between loud crunches.

I had enough, I got up and turned on the TV (technically it was a crystal that projects a show on the wall or blank space, but the concept is the same)

“You’ve been all kinds of weird since you started workin’ at da pool hall. Those old spacers (retired merchant marine starship crew) got you listenin’ to their crazy stories ‘gain,” I said from across the room.

Anna narrowed her eyes and glared at me from across the room. It was a direct challenge. The first to turn away would be seen as weak. I wasn’t about to be back down from an 11-year-old girl, even if she was my sister. Not wanting to be caught in the middle of a fight she slammed her hands down on the table. Anna was the first to turn away.

“So!” Henna said breaking the tension “either of you kittens going to go to school with me today or what?”

“Na, me and Lee are gonna collect the insurance gold from dat outlander Stop-N-Rob. These outlanders need to learn they should pay their bills on time,” I said as I cracked my knuckles.

Anna jumped up “Bring me! Bring me! I wanna kick some trog teeth in!”

Both Henna and I stared at her in disbelief. On our world, the “T” word has the same impact of yelling “there’s a lot of n*****’s here” inside the Apollo Theater, or “stupid c**** go make me a sandwich” during a NOW protest. It’s not something used lightly.

“Anna!” exclaimed Henna as she slapped her across the face.

Henna, being 50% feline, could have hurt her if she really wanted, but only hit her hard enough to sting a little. Only family is allowed to disciple other family members, and once you were in a gang you were family. Anna cast her eyes downward in shame.

“You need to stop listening to those damned sailors; they got my sis’ talkin’ like one. If mamma ever heard talkin’ like that." I said.

Anna cut me off, “well she ain’t ok?!?!?”

Her muscles tensed up, expecting more discipline. I got up from the tattered old couch and walked over to her with my palms facing up and pulled her close to me.

“I miss her too, but dat doesn’t mean you can talk like trash, k?” I said.

She looked up from our embrace and smiled, the hand print was gone.

Anna let go the loving embrace and slugged me in my arm and asked, “So am I gonna get a chance to kick a few outlanders around or what?”

I grinned back at her “Uh yeah, you can be the look-out. You know what they say when there’s one around, there are ten nearby.” She said and ran into her room. “Good, I’ll go grab Stabatha!”

Henna stood up “K’ I guess I’ll go grab Goldie, then.”

She turned around and left through the window. One of the realities of living in the ghetto is that, as an absolute rule, you never travel alone. People who fly solo will disappear.

There are stories of people getting press ganged into working on a Star Freighter (Anna would bring home stories about this from the old spacers) and tossed out the airlock when they are no longer useful (which happened in the old days or so they say). Sometimes people are snatched up and forced to work as mercenaries, sex slaves, or farmers on colonial worlds.

Worse yet, sometimes you would be pressed into military service by some corrupt off-world government and forced to fight in a war that wasn't even your own. This is why we don’t trust outlanders. They could be agents or recruiters for a foreign government. Others who go missing, as the rumor goes, are kidnapped and harvested for their organs, especially since we feline have regenerative powers.

The North-Central Posse’s enforcer, a title going to the toughest fighter, Lee Hunter was selling some UP! (a type of meth that keeps you awake for days and leaves the user in a state of euphoria). One day when he was slinging a few cubes when some outlanders (dark elves) tired to teleport him away.

Unbeknownst to them, and lucky for Lee, our territory used to be home to the Nakoda shipyards. The area still has many derelict spaceships buried throughout.

Many of the spaceships buried here still have their docking anchors attached. With so many trips through hyperspace and/or space-folding, eventually the ships have a tendency to phase out of reality and into hyperspace; the old spacers call it the drift. Without specially made dimensional anchors the older fleet ships would shift from this reality and eventually end up in some random spot in the universe. As a side effect these anchors prevented unwanted teleportation of any kind when left alone, either magically or through technology.

The anchors prevented Lee from being cat-napped and dragged off to Ancestors knows where. Since that incident Lee stopped selling Up!

I knocked on his door, his girlfriend answered, Abby Litmoore. Her flaming red hair looked like a rat’s nest. There was fresh blood on her fingertips and nails. The smell of sex hit my nose and even made Anna recoil. She had a stupid grin on her face complimented by her after-sex glow.

“I hope you didn’t hurt him too bad, we got shit to do,” I said to her.

“He’ll be out in a bit,” she said as she adjusted her tank top.

I nodded. Anna kept her mouth shut, though she was bursting at the seams to say something. Abby, had a reputation for violence and a short fuse. It took only once for Anna to lip off to her, and without warning Abby busted up her nose and split her lip. From then on, all she needed to do is look at Anna to put her in her place.

Lee walked out in his leather jacket. The 6’ 10” mountain had muscles on top of his muscles. When Lee wasn’t being the enforcer for the North-Central Posse, he worked at a Marv’s, a local butcher. He punched his fist into his hand which was wrapped in leather strips and razor wire. He smoothed his dark-brown hair back and glanced down at us and gave thumbs up he was ready.

I adjusted my black leather jacket (many of the gangs wear something that separates them from others, some wear bandanas, others wear colors, and we wear black leather jackets) trying to puff myself around Lee.

Walking down the street, the locals stepped out of our way, and they knew who ran these 4-blocks. The steam from the sewers hung low on the streets, our streets.

Our territory was sandwiched between the Niko-Niko Street Gang and the Tanglewood Gang. As I said before it sits on the site of the old Nakoda ship yard. The energies here tended to mess with magic and non-grounded technology. This was one of the many reasons why the Tanglewood Gang didn’t put up much of a fight to take our territory. Other than a few shops and residential housing, there’s not much here in our territory worth taking.

Up until a year ago, there was massive influx of outlander refugees that migrated into the Capital City. Some were from colonies and others were from various parts of the galaxy. They drifted in till the new Emperor took over. He quickly ordered a freeze on all refugees from non-colonial worlds, much to the outrage of the Galactic Council. Many of the outlanders took up residence in the poorer communities, including ours.

Once we arrived at the Stop-N-Rob I walked in followed by Lee. Anna waited outside. She partially unzipped her jacket and pulled out Stabitha, her trench dagger, and prevented any unwanted visitors from entering.

Lee turned the sign around on the door to announce that the store was closed. He snapped his fingers and pointed towards the door, the remaining customers realized they were done shopping and left. I’ve never been the intimidating type. Don’t get me wrong, I know how to fight, but I was the face-man, a chatty-Cathy who could convince people to do what I wanted with words, not muscle.

The store was filled with the basic generic food, cheap toys what break after an hour of play and your usual drug supplies typical for everyday ghetto life.

The operator, an outlander human with dark brown hair and bronze skin, stood nervously behind the counter with his pudgy wife. I picked up a bag of puffed corn, and slowly inched toward the counter.

The lady narrowed her eyes and shouted, “You buy and you go!”

I turned my direction towards Lee, “Humph, I get the feeling you don’t want our gold.”

He nodded as he punched his fist in his hand.

“You go now!” she said in her broken language.

I tossed the chips on the floor, and coughed to clear my throat.

“And there’s the problem with outlanders, think they can come here and ignore the rules. We gave you a week to pay your insurance,' I said.

The guy with the mousy brown hair spoke up, “We’re big (something that wasn’t in our language) where we come from, you better leave before there’s trouble.”

“There’s the problem, outlander…” I said knocking down a display shelf. “You...” kicking some merchandise away “are...” I slammed my hands down on the counter and he stared at his feet, shaking. “Not...” I moved closer. “on whatever shitty world you come from. You are on our turf, and here you follow our rules, and 'dem rules say you pay your insurance once a month.”

He turned away as his wife jumped across the counter. Her body shifted as bone began to crack and muscles swelled. Her mouth stretched out and ink black fur grew from her body. She was a shape-shifter belonging to the rat species. They typically fight dirty and in large groups. I switched to a fighting stance, but before I could get a swing in, Lee moved his hulking mass with lightening speed and knocked her into the refrigerated drinks. Glass shards cut, and cut deep, but it was nothing fatal. Lee began to pummel her with his massive firsts where she fell.

Rats fleeing to a world dominated by cats was a bad idea.

The next bad idea was for the man to pull a gun from under the counter. It was a short barreled plasma weapon, the kind that one would use for close quarter combat. I quickly ducked down before the old man could fire a round off.

The electric hiss of the weapon whizzed above me. I could feel the heat from the round as it crackled overhead. Typically plasma weapons had a 3 second recharge rate. I needed to act fast.

On our world we don’t use firearms because it draws too much attention from the commissars (police). Melee weapons were your weapons of choice. Too bad these outlanders followed the rules from their home. The whine of recharge coils sprang to life.

I rose to my feet just in time to see Anna run in. The old man’s attention was on Lee, who leapt out of the way when he saw the barrel pointed at him. His wife, in full kill form was still in the fridge bleeding and bruised. Anna jumped across the counter and buried her trench dagger in the outlander’s arm. As she stabbed three times she swung the knuckle portion across his face cracking his jaw. Bright red blood shot out his wounds.

I snatched the weapon from his bleeding hand, and used it to butt stroke him in the nose. Anna and I worked in quick sequence hitting throat and face as he fell to the ground.

He landed with a thud.

“Got’em Lee”, I said switching the weapon to safe. "It's some cheap Terumi knockoff, but it would sell."

Lee ripped the cash register off the counter as I hid the weapon under my jacket.

Anna kicked the guy one in the ribs for time for good measure and yelled at him, “We’ll get the gold from you one way or the other stupid Trog!”

I let her have that one, after all he deserved it for pulling a gun on us.

Up until a year ago, there was massive influx of outlander refugees that migrated into the Capitol City. Some were from colonies and others were from various parts of the galaxy. They drifted in till the new Emperor took over. He quickly ordered a freeze on all refugees from non-colonial worlds, much to the outrage of the Galactic Council. Many of the outlanders took up residence in the poorer communities, including ours.

Once we arrived at the Stop-N-Rob I walked in followed by Lee. Anna waited outside. She partially unzipped her jacket and pulled out Stabitha, her trench dagger, and prevented any unwanted customers from entering.

Lee turned the sign around on the door to announce that it was closed. He snapped his fingers and pointed towards the door, the remaining customers realized they were done shopping and left. I’ve never been the intimidating type. Don’t get me wrong, I know how to fight, but I was the face-man, a chatty-Cathy who could convince people to do what I wanted with words, not muscle.

The store was filled with the basic generic food, cheap toys what break after an hour of play and your usual drug supplies typical for everyday ghetto life.

The operator, an outlander human with dark brown hair and bronze skin stood nervously behind the counter with his pudgy wife. I picked up a bag of puffed corn, and slowly inched toward the counter. The lady narrowed her eyes and shouted “You buy and you go!”

I turned my direction towards Lee, “Humph, I get the feeling you don’t want our gold.”

He just nodded.

“You go now!” she said in her broken language. I tossed the chips on the floor. I coughed to clear my throat. “And there’s the problem with outlanders, think they can come here and ignore the rules. We gave you a week to pay your insurance.”

The guy with the mousy brown hair spoke up “We’re big (something that wasn’t in our language) where we come from, you better leave before there’s trouble.”

“There’s the problem, outlander…” I said knocking down a display shelf. “You...” I said kicking some merchandise away. “Are...” I said pounding my hands down on the counter and he stared at his feet, shaking. “Not...” I move closer. “On whatever shitty world you came from. You are on our turf and here you follow our rules, and dem rules say you pay your insurance once a month.”

He turned away as his wife jumped across the counter. Her body shifted as bone began to crack and muscles grew. Her mouth stretched out and ink black fur grew from her body. She was a shape-shifter belonging to the rat species. They typically fight dirty and in large groups. I switched to a fighting stance, but before I could get a swing in, Lee moved his hulking frame with lightening speed and knocked her into the refrigerated drinks. Glass shards cut, and cut deep, but it was nothing fatal. Lee continued to pummel her with his massive firsts where she fell.

Rats fleeing to a world dominated by cats were a bad idea.

The next bad idea for this couple was for the man to pull a gun from under the counter. It was a short barreled plasma weapon. It was the kind that one would use for close quarter combat. I quickly ducked down before the old man could fire a round off. The electric hiss of the weapon whizzed above me. I could feel the heat from the round as it crackled by.

Plasma weapons had a 3 second recharge rate. I needed to act fast.

On our world we typically didn’t use firearms because it would draw too much attention from the commissars (police). Melee weapons were your weapons of choice. Too bad these outlanders followed the rules from their home. The whine of recharge coils sprang to life.

I rose to my feet just in time to see Anna run in. The old man’s attention was on Lee, who leapt out of the way when he saw the barrel pointed at him. His wife, in full kill form was still in the fridge bleeding and bruised. Anna jumped across the counter and buried her trench dagger in the outlander’s arm. As she stabbed three times she swung the knuckle portion across his face breaking his jaw. Bright red arterial blood shot out his wounds.

I snatched the weapon from his bleeding hand, and used it to butt stroke him in the nose. Anna and I worked in quick sequence hitting vulnerable as he fell to the ground.

He landed with a thud.

“Got’em Lee”, I said switching the weapon to safe. "It was a cheap Terumi knockoff, but it would sell."

Lee ripped the cash register off the counter as I hid the weapon under my jacket.

Anna kicked the guy one for time for good measure and yelled at him, “We’ll get the gold from you one way or the other, Trog!”

I let her have that one, after all he deserved it for pulling a gun on us.