A small orange tabby skittered up the fire escape. Its bushy tail curled into a question mark and its ears flattened to its head against the gentle summer breeze. It jumped onto the seventh-floor landing and curled into a tight ball. Its whiskers twitched and shimmered in the golden hours of late afternoon sunlight.

​From across the narrow alleyway, Agent Duffy’s TrackSpecs locked on her target. Subject Z64 snoozed peacefully in the sunshine while Duffy cocked her Stunner 57.

​To passersby, Duffy didn’t come across as somebody who had watched an alien scalp a senator one too many times. She was roughly five foot two. Her brown curls were chopped into a stylish messy pixie cut. She had expertly learned how to conceal her inner emotions behind her crystal blue eyes. 

​The only feature that alluded to the dangerous nature of her profession was the thick scar that stretched diagonally across her delicate collarbone. It was from three years back when she had gotten into it with a Zurka warrior. 

​“Thanks, Judith, I’ll take it from here,” Duffy said to the TrackSpecs’ AI. Thanks to these powerful glasses she was able to access any database in the country, including satellite tracking technology that was essential in helping her track down her new sworn enemy.

​Duffy took her hexagonal shades off her petite button nose, stuffed them into her pocket, and blew a ringlet out of her face.

​Subject Z64’s disguise was clever—nobody would suspect an innocent little house cat of being capable of the destruction of entire planets—but Duffy had seen pretty much everything in her five short years with the AHAA 

​Time to get this son of a bitch. 

​The muffled whir of traffic echoed off the brick walls and Duffy’s red Converse tapped quietly on the concrete. Once she reached the base of the building, she knocked the tip of her left toe onto her right heel. A warm blast of blue flames shot from the bottom of her shoes and lifted her barely off the ground. She only wobbled slightly before she found her balance, pointed her toes downward, and launched up to the seventh floor. 

 “You’ve been quite the pain in my ass, buddy,” Duffy said and looked through the scope of her laser gun. A green circle centered on Z64.

 Before she could pull the trigger, the cat’s strangely reptilian, neon green eyes shot open. It hissed, leaped off the landing, and dug its claws onto Duffy’s right shoulder. 

​“Shit!” Duffy yelped. “Get off me, you bastard!” 

​She thrashed and swatted at Z64 with the butt of her gun, but it was no use. 

​Duffy was out of control. Her jet shoes had a mind of their own. She flew in circles until her back slammed against a brick wall. Upon impact, the Stunner 57 fell out of her hands, clanged against the metal stairs of the fire escape, and toppled to the concrete sidewalk. 

 Unfortunately for Duffy, Z64 had a stronger grip than she did. Now, she was weaponless and couldn’t shake the tiny creature. 

​Z64’s stomach grumbled violently, and its mouth opened ten feet wide. Six pointed purple tongues slithered out of the gaping hole and grabbed for Duffy’s head. 

​“Not today, asshole.” Duffy raised her hands up and snatched one of the tongues. It wriggled like a slimy worm in her tight fist.

​The creature screeched and its other tongues desperately flailed in the air.

​“I may be a snack, but I am not on your menu.” 

​She reached into her pocket and fumbled with a small black sack. She grabbed the cloth between her teeth, pulled it open, and dumped its contents of a dark powder directly onto Z64’s tongue. 

​The purple flesh sizzled and shrank like a prune into the creature’s mouth. Z64 howled.

​Duffy snatched the scruff of its neck and tried to pull it off her shoulder, but its claws clung to her acid washed denim jacket. This alien wouldn’t give up so easy.

​At this point, Duffy was well above the rooftops. Suddenly, her left shoe sputtered, and the blue flame slowly died out. Her body flipped upside down and she lost her grasp on the cat’s neck. 

​I forgot to refill the goddamned fuel. 

​Now, she was suspended in the air only by her right foot. Blood rushed to her face and pressed against her forehead. 

​Duffy turned her head toward the grotesque squishing that echoed in her right ear. A pair of scaly purple wings protruded out of the fluffy orange fur on Z64’s back. The creature retracted its claws, released from Duffy’s jacket, and launched into flight. In seconds, Duffy’s target was nothing more than a tiny orange dot that faded into the distance. 

“Bastard,” Duffy mumbled.

​Free of the thrashing cat, Duffy was able to regain control of her functioning jet shoe. She contorted her body and untied the frayed lace. The jet shut off and Duffy tumbled through the air.

She pressed the center of a sunflower patch on her left breast pocket and a small parachute deployed out of the back of her jacket.

I can’t believe the little shit got away.

​She floated slowly back into the alleyway. She was in complete disbelief that her new nemesis had outsmarted her once again. She knew this alien species was clever, but she had severely underestimated its abilities.

​Her feet lightly touched the sidewalk. She bent her knees and took three steps to slow her momentum. The parachute billowed behind her and fell into a heap of polyester on the ground.  

 A smooth jazz tune played from Duffy’s back pocket.

Shit.