South

The southern part of the city has a chic family-oriented sort of charm to it. Here, small locally owned shops run rampant, neighbors often know each other by name, and the monthly socials are an event not to be missed. In the South, children can often be seen safely playing in the park or on sidewalks and in the weekends, families often take to the beach to enjoy the warm waters surrounding the city.

What You'll Find Here

Ascension Center of Equitation
Hyde Park
Point Defiance Zoo and Aquarium
The Outskirts
The University of Sacrosanct

Rough around the edges


Posted on January 10, 2024 by Taylor Dixon
South


The lyrics of "The monster I have become" blast through the speakers as I change the oil and fuel filter on an old Buick. I find that music helps me concentrate, especially when there's no one else around to hold a conversation with. I don't mind being alone; in fact, I tend to get more things done when Don or Willie isn't around making jokes or throwing wrenches at each other. Poor Mrs. Gail has been waiting on a routine maintenance check on her car for almost a week and I couldn't understand why Willie hadn't gotten it done yet. Once I tried to take the fuel filter off, though, I started to understand. The thing had been wrenched on there so tightly, it's a miracle it didn't blow a seal. By the time I'd managed to get it out of there (thankfully without breaking anything but my own patience), I also realized the filter must have been there for years. No wonder Mrs. Gail had to fill up three times a week and it drove so rough! It's a wonder the car kept right on going. I had a feeling the sweet older lady was going to notice an immediate improvement when she got back in her car tomorrow morning.

I was just tightening the last few things and checking to make sure I didn't notice any other red flags when I heard the footsteps coming closer. I paused to listen, not sure who would come here at this time of night, but the moment I felt the foot kick out and caught a whiff of old cigar smoke, I got my answer. Just great.

"Fuck me..."

I can't help but mutter the curse under my breath as I slowly roll back out from under the car to look up at five butchy guys. Sal looks just as ugly as ever.

"Hey Sal, looking good. You been working out?"

I throw as much charm at him as I can, though I know it's not going to do anything for me. The guy thought he was the new mafia or something, always hunting around the smaller shops in the neighborhood, trying to buy his own empire or something. The first time a body builder type showed up to my shop looking for a hand-out, I laughed in his face (I know, not my brightest moment) and got a shiner for the trouble. A few days later, Sal showed up and I came three centimeters from losing a pinky. He promised he'd be back to collect. I guess this is collection day. Taking a deep breath, I straighten up and grab a rag to clean the oil off my hands, listening as Sal talks through what we already know, that I haven't paid (nor do I plan to). I turn away just enough to keep the men in my peripheral vision while slyly trying to find something I can use as weapon (since I'm sure in two point five seconds I'm going to need to defend myself), waving my hand to appear calm.

"Yeah, the bills are draining me dry, Sal. You know how it is. Maybe I'll have the extra cash around month's end or something..."

I see the flash of something shiny in one of the butchy guys' hand right before something else big and black has me jumping almost on the hood of the Buick. I hear the crunch of bone and the screams of Butch #1 as the other four scatter, some pulling their own blades while Sal looks like he's reaching for a gun. My eyes widen in shock at what I'm seeing as I press back on the hood of the car. Is that...

"A fucking panther!"

Butch #2 yells as the men continue to back away while the panther drags Butch #1 to the ground with his shoulder still firmly clamped in its jaws. I am frozen in shock, not sure whether I should be grabbing a weapon myself or running for my motorcycle. The panther lets go of Butch #1 only to swipe at Butch #3 before planting itself right in front of me, facing down the other men. A single brow arches in surprise and confusion. Is it...protecting me? Naw, that can't be right. I haven't been putting out any food for stray cats or anything. No one told me that the garage came with a bodyguard panther. That would have been cool to put in the agreement when I bought the place. I'm still frozen behind the large jungle cat, that is, until I see movement to my right. Sal has a gun in his hand, a Glock by the looks of it, and he's swinging it up to shoot. Before I can think better of it, I lunge, grabbing his wrists to point the gun up right as it goes off. The shot is deafening, reverberating off the metal walls, and my ears immediately start ringing. I refuse to let go of his wrists though, much to Sal's chagrin. We wrestle back and forth for a minute, before I'm able to twist my back to him and then throw my head back for a headbutt that's going to give us both a migraine.

Sal grunts but releases the gun and staggers back into a table while I kick away the gun, which slides under the Buick. The Butches are starting to rethink now. In fact, I think there was two more guys than there is now as I look at them. Butch #1 is still whimpering and holding his shoulder as he pushes himself back along the concrete, presumedly toward where their car is parked. Butch #4 (or #2? they all look alike at this point) is the only other one still standing with his blade in hand, but he looks scared shitless as he stares at the panther and takes a slow step back. A roar pulls my attention back to Sal as he launches himself away from the table with a ratchet raised above his head. I throw my arms up, bracing for the hit. This night could have gone a lot better.