A/N: So it's been forever. Forgive me. =/ First NaNo, then life. BUT here's another short chapter. I think I've got the majority of the basic plot for this thing figured out... We'll see how this goes. XP

Also, new OC again! So far, he's turning out to be pretty interesting in my mind...

Thank y'all for the reviews! Hope you enjoy this chapter!

~Penelope

Every city has it's own unique smell.

As weird as that sounds, it's true. When you have a brother like Gluttony, you pick up on these sort of things. For example: Resembool, though I hadn't been there more than a couple of times, smelled like open wind and wildflowers. Typical rural town smell. Then Rush Valley smelled like dust and metal, a pungent, not-entirely-unpleasant smell that left a weird taste on the back of your tongue.

And then Central smelled like automobile fuel, fried food, and cement. It was this smell that I always associated with my own headquarters, my "home" if you will. 'Course, I didn't really have a home, per se, so I personally tended to avoid the term. Too much stigma.

I took pleasure in digging my claws into the chubby arms holding me too tightly when the train came to a slow, jolting halt in the Central Station. The ebony-haired kid whimpered, but still reached up to stroke my head.

Being a cat sucked. All the cuddling and cooing and… bleck.

Still, I couldn't blow my cover 'til I knew I was safe. The free ride was nice, despite the awkward conditions. But this Christian kid was freakishly strong, I swear – he'd kept me in his lap the entire way, a two-days' trip. Me, a cat with the concentrated mass of a creature, like, a ka-gillion times my current size. Sure, my stone took care of a bit of the balance, but still! He didn't complain, he certainly didn't put me down, I wonder if he even realized something was off!

So, he was either really strong or just really dense. Maybe both.

Anita stood from her aisle seat and reached up to pull her small bag down from the overhead, before holding out her hand to her child. "Come on, let's go."

Christian took his mother's hand and followed her into the aisle. "Mommy, this kitty's heavy."

Oh, so he had noticed.

"You wanna set him down?"

He shook his head. "He might run away!"

You bet I might, you little twerp; you've been smothering me this whole time! I squirmed on cue, barely managing to keep my mouth shut and not voice these very thoughts.

"Okay, then don't complain about how heavy he is; you're choosing to carry him."

The kid pouted, and his mother led him off the train, onto the bustling platform. I could see how tightly she was grasping his tiny hand, probably so he wouldn't get separated. Christian was clinging to me just as tightly with his free arm, and no matter how I wriggled, he wouldn't loosen his grip. There was no way… Unless I attacked him. Which would likely result in retaliation of some kind, or me getting dropped under some passerby's feet. Not a pleasant thought.

Still. I had to wonder if it'd be better than this.

Outside the station, Anita approached the curb, glancing up and down the street. Cars went to and fro, up and down, until she raised a hand to wave, having obviously caught sight of the one she sought. Probably a taxi cab. I sighed inwardly. Great, a car ride. If they're staying in Central, couldn't they just-

Holy mother of… is that a limousine?

To be honest, I'd never been inside one. Not like I needed to be, or had ever really wanted to, but I couldn't help the spike of juvenile excitement that shot through my chest when I saw the long, sleek vehicle pull up to the curb in front of us. I squashed it quickly, however. Now was not the time for playing games; a limo meant power, somebody important. Somebody important meant a potential pawn. Suddenly, a car ride didn't sound too bad. Maybe I'd get some juicy bonus information for Father, to use as an excuse for my absence.

Was it that Gunther guy's? If so, he sure was trying to make an impression. If not, I had no idea who else it would be.

After the driver who addressed Anita by name opened the door for us, Christian finally did set me down, on the plush leather seat across from the one he and his mother sunk into, facing me. Not much longer, and we were navigating the city. I tuned out the humans' conversation.

From my vantage point, I could watch the tops of buildings as they went by. 'Course, I couldn't see anything interesting, like people walking the sidewalks, or blabbing with acquaintances, or sitting in front of those quaint little shops with cups of steaming coffee or iced lemonade and open newspapers. Even in a big city like Central, there were traces of quaintness.

I loved knowing that they had no idea what was living right under their feet. I had to stifle my sniggering just thinking about it.

Eventually, though, we reached what appeared to be the edge of the city, the neighborhood areas, which I had spent little time in. We passed through a gate, and then the buildings disappeared. Trimmed hedges replaced them. We started going through a wide curve, before the limo came to a full stop. I heard the driver's door open and shut, and then the grey-headed driver was at the window, opening the door for the passengers.

"Welcome home, madam."

Home? What? I must've missed something.

Anita gave a wry smirk. "Tch. Wilson, you know as well as I do that I'm no 'madam', and this hasn't been my home for… Oh, how long…"

"Four years, and six months." The driver, Wilson, took the bag from Anita, while Christian again scooped me up. I allowed myself a little growl of annoyance, to which I received a bop on the head.

Oh, just let me maul you…

"Is this Papa's house?" Christian inquired, toddling after Anita.

She nodded, gazing ahead with wistful eyes. "Yes, it is."

I had to twist my head around to glimpse what they were looking at.

…

A mansion.

D***.

Well, this was getting more interesting by the minute. Anita lived here once? In a mansion? This place was huge, and exquisite – brick walls, white trim, navy shutters, wild ivy trimmed to perfection climbing in an almost organized way up the wall around the pair of white front doors with gold handles.

The kid said Papa. Could that refer to Gunther? Had I missed more than I thought, and he actually held affection for his father? Yet, Anita didn't look irked or resigned or anything negative, except maybe some traces of sadness behind her eyes. Mostly, she had that odd nostalgic look on her face, and it remained there as we approached those pristine doors. Wilson opened one up, and ushered us inside.

The foyer was expansive, and the lightest footstep echoed across the black and white tiles, the dual spiral staircases, the warm-colored wallpaper and white wainscoting. Potted plants and household cleaner made the air smell fresh and crisp. An emptiness pervaded the atmosphere, however, and I suddenly felt very small. That's a big deal, when you're me.

A maid appeared through a doorway on the right – a maid! How come Father didn't have any of those? Then we wouldn't have to clean any of our rooms. – and her eyes widened at the sight of us. She curtsied, addressed Anita by name (she was known around here, obviously), and then excused herself to fetch "the colonel".

What was Gunther's rank again? I hadn't paid attention during the brief time I saw him. Then again, he hadn't been wearing a uniform or anything, and I had only heard he was in the military, so never mind.

Christian set me down, and the cold tile sent a shiver through me. Gosh, where's an area rug when you need one!? Wilson led them into the next room, a parlor of sorts, and I padded after them at a light trot, keeping the contact time between my feet and the floor at a minimum.

"It's big, Mommy."

No duh!

"Papa has lots of money. He works for the government."

"Can you work for the government?" Christian peered up at her, and I resisted the urge to snicker.

That thin-boned redhead? A soldier? Don't make me laugh!

Anita chuckled, sinking gracefully into one of the overstuffed chairs by the unlit hearth. "But who would take care of you?"

Ugh, I was bored already. I glanced around the room, taking in the sheer curtains, the bookshelves, the old world map hung on a glass-less frame with pins stuck here and there. Nothing of real interest. With a short glance at Christian, I picked myself up and slowly tiptoed toward the doorway.

I was almost around the corner when a hand pinched me by the scruff of my neck and hoisted me up.

"Oh, goodness, you're a heavy cat…"

I glared at the stupid driver/butler guy. I hope you sprain your elbow.

He carted me back into the room, and set me beside Christian, who was stacking some books in the shape of a house or something. "You'd better keep an eye on your kitten, young lad. Wouldn't want him getting lost, would we?"

Christian nodded shyly and dragged me closer to him.

So much for exploring. I grumped for the next half hour instead.

At long last, I heard two new sets of footsteps, one matching that of the maid that had left a while ago, the other longer, steadier, heavier. I looked up at the door, and flicked my ears forward.

The maid entered, and paused beside the doorway, clasping her hands like the obedient little human she was paid to be. An older man followed her, his thinning hair slicked back and a sophisticated mustache adorning his upper lip. His gaunt face spoke of years of stress and hardness, but his eyes contradicted with a sickening gentleness – weak. Twist his brow, and steal the care from those eyes, and he might be intimidating; he was tall enough. But his eyes said he was weak – weak, soft, pathetic. I wrinkled my nose, whiskers twitching.

It got worse when Anita stood and they just stared at each other for a long moment. I hated the drama that suddenly permeated the air.

"Hi… Dad," she finally muttered, rubbing her arms anxiously.

The light flicked on. Ohhhhhhh!

Totally called it.

I hated the raw emotion I saw written across the old man's face. It was sweet, it was gentle, it was loving, it made me feel sick. I wanted to hack up a hairball just to disrupt the mood; however, I wasn't skilled in that art, being only a fake cat and not a real one.

"Anita… It's good to see you."

Make me barf, why don'tcha!

"I… We need your help."

I fell asleep not long after that. I remembered hearing something about Gunther and a lawsuit, but that was about it. And the only reason I woke up was because Christian was prying me up off the floor again, practically slinging me over his shoulder as that same maid from before led him and Anita upstairs. Mr. Weak-Eyes followed behind, making small talk with his obviously estranged daughter.

"Tomorrow… I need to find a job. I think I'll visit the agency, see if I can't find something I can start right away…"

Wait, so she was sticking around? Why didn't she just hightail it to Aerugo or something with the kid so she'd never have to see that smug-faced idiot again? I didn't get it.

"I'll take care of Christian, Anita, don't you worry."

Ahh, so Pops was the babysitter. Great. Tomorrow, I could finally lose the kid as he was distracted getting settled in his new home. I needed to find out something extremely juicy, preferably useful about this place or these people, and then high-tail it back to Father.