Name: Mitts (CaeliM018) Gender: Male Breed: Wild Coat: Black Velvet Checker Eyes: Yellow Genetic Code: BB//B+ Black, Carries Blue CT//CT Homozygous Velvet Checker R+//r Carries Reduced Color +//+ Homozygous Yellow Iris Size: 59 Domestication: 34 Friendliness: 30 Noisiness: 30 Parents: Father Aldebaran Mother Frost Siblings if known: Boots Mate: Offspring: Current Location: Barney's Barn Art By/Born-Adopted From: Phe / Nidus Caeligenus

There was something triumphant about the strangely muffled meow that Barney heard. It was after closing time, he was ready to head back up to the dorms. Maybe it was nothing, but... Maybe it wasn't. The old instincts had already kicked in: he was well trained as a security guard, and had plenty of further experience out in the Cities, running around pretending to be Combine or even just an Armacham lackey. Barney trusted his gut instincts.

And if there was some other instinct he trusted, it would be the barn cats. Those that were still awake, lounging around on the stools or up in the rafters, had all sort of shaken their heads and fluttered their wings - they'd taken note of that meow too. Even if it wasn't meant for them - did ... did winged cats coo at each other like pigeons or let their body language do the talking to each other? He wasn't honestly sure.

Barney was pretty tired. But he woke right up along with the cats, when he saw a strong looking but dusty black cat with an entire-ass turkey-sized headcrab in its mouth. Well, the leg anyway, but the rest of it was clearly dead, and the cat abruptly dropped it, scratched at something behind his ear, and started preening.

The cat's forepaws were huge, as he was gently moving the Dry Cove dirt and the remnants of the headcrab ick from his face and neck. "The mitts on you," Barney muttered, "and there's the name I was lookin' for, huh?"

Life did have a way of coming together. He was almost getting used to these weird otherworldly flashes of memories that weren't his own. This one twinged his gut - like most of them did - for a variety of reasons. Lauren ... well, his Lauren, had died in their Resonance Cascade ... But there was another living among the riders of the Rookery, fierce and feisty as always. Mitts followed Barney only as far as the back door of the Bar, and then helped himself to the headcrab, before the other cats ate it all.

*** From Nine Half-Lives *** (warning, sads)

He'd never have heard the end of it, if everything else hadn't already gone wrong. So wrong. Black Mesa was in ruins – well, it was navigable, it was still standing , but it was a mess . He'd lost his friends in the mayhem of this thing, the Brains called it a Resonance Cascade. He called it many other things; Barney wasn't known for his foul mouth but he certainly let fly a few choice expletives.

It was Lauren's birthday, well it had been her birthday, a day after that experiment that ruined the place had started, a day before it all ended with a big ass bang.

Barney wasn't sure what to do. He'd managed to survive, with some of the scientists to boot. Dragged them out of the place and crossed his fingers that they'd live to see what else could go wrong in their lives.

He hadn't seen too many others get out of the facility. Lauren was in there somewhere. He'd forgotten to get her flowers for her birthday. He'd even been at the store, getting cat food—

“Aww Hell,” Barney sighed, and stifled a sob. If it wasn't one thing, it was another.

Max was a damn good cat. Maybe… maybe.

Maybe kept Barney running for nearly a year. He and the others scampered from shelter to shelter, outrunning the government that appeared to want them all dead. Wiped out – why? Because they had the nerve to survive?! Because they knew the truth about the place?

Naturally. Barney had to keep these scientists together, had to make sure there weren't other attacks. His job as a security guard really hadn't prepared him for any of the bizarre crap that had gone down last year. For the moment though, Barney walked slowly from one patrol point to another, circling their hidden canyon encampment.

He'd made it out with the uniform on his back, a full clip in his gun, and nothing else. Nothing. At least Dr. Vance had pulled that photo out, or something – he'd never talk about it, nor how he managed to make it to his own family dorm to extract his young daughter Alyx out of there.

Well, if miracles like that could happen, maybe it wasn't all bad. They had friends out here in the scrub canyons: migrant workers, other Black Mesa survivors, even a few of the once-hostile HECU guys that Barney had to shoot at the year before. Anyone that had anything to do with the place was a target. They'd found out that things were changing: life as they knew it was just never going to be the same.

Except that sometimes, it had a way of seeming all right.

Barney's foot steps along the gritty path had been his only companion, save for the hooting of an owl somewhere nearby, and the weirdly alien chittering of those head humper things he was extremely fond of killing. He heard one, close by.

And then weirdly, he saw a flash of motion, followed by the sounds of a headcrab's death rattle. It was dark, night had fallen hours before. There was not much light coming from the half-moon above. But he swore he saw something fly by him, it must have been that owl. But the owls around here weren't nearly big enough to take down a headcrab, that would be like a…

It wasn't an owl that had leapt past. Barney heard the sounds of a scuffle on the ground, nearby bushes trembled with whatever action was going on. Cautiously, Barney turned his flashlight on, and sought out the source. He found it all right, followed the greenish-yellow trail of headcrab blood, and stopped when he spotted the dead alien.

Above it, a pair of huge, yellow eyes. Dark fur, almost black, shone under the flashlight. The cat walked out from around the headcrab, began licking itself suddenly as cats were wont to do. It wasn't quite as big as Barney expected, then again he expected a bobcat or even a puma. But it was not a small cat, either: twenty-pounder, at least, though. Barney watched silently, as the cat stood and stretched, acted like nothing at all was out of the ordinary.

“I'll be damned,” Barney said, with a wide smile. He knelt to pet the cat, it let off a rumbling purr and held its tail high. “Good boy,” he praised the tom, “you did good. That was a mighty fine leap you made.” If he went back now, the others would see the tears in his eyes, so Barney stayed there with the cat for another few minutes, as it pushed up against his knees and claimed him with that distinct cheek-rub. When he did rise, turning to head to his next post, the cat followed, and Barney's smile grew wider with each passing step.