The name came out hoarse on their tongue, which felt as dry as sandpaper. They swallowed, though it didn’t quell the rawness in their throat. They had ran, and ran, and ran, their wings long forgotten on their back. They had ran to find an old friend in his cold, desolate world. An old friend whom they hadn’t heard from in oh so very long.
Only to find that friend lying dead in a puddle of blood, that usual Cheshire grin turned down into a scowl of pain. It looked fresh, but it was obvious the body had been there for quite some time. Zacharie’s fingers traced over the hairless feline’s body.
Tears formed in their eyes, they dribbled down their cheeks in thin rivulets, hidden behind the mask which they always donned. First it was Sugar, now it had come to this.
Just what did the Batter think he was doing?
Out of their bag they drew another mask, the one with the mocking grin of the Judge and pointed ears. They swapped their usual frog mask in exchange for this one. To fill in for Pablo… forever, it seemed. Yet was there any point?
No one was left in this world but monsters. Ghouls. They thirsted for blood. It just so happened Zacharie was full of it, but they were above them. They were above the Batter himself.
So they traveled throughout the zones, sword in hand, Pablo’s cold, dead body cradled in their arm. Each ghoul that got in their way was slain with one blow of their sword. They fought, fought, fought.
… Then peacefully set up a table where they knew the Batter would pass by. Don’t ask how they knew, they just did. The dead, beaten body was hidden behind them. Goods would normally be spread across the table before them, but not this time, not while they were posing as the Judge.
A meow escaped them, one hand lifting to curl into a paw. “Hello, Batter.”