• Trip City, TPA Headquarters
    December 17
    1813 hours

    It’s been weeks since I’ve had work, but I guess it’s completely understandable with the crap that’s been going on lately, what with all the merc killings and all.
    Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself. The name’s TC, that’s short for Trent Casey, or Trenchcoat Man; that’s a nickname I received in high school and it stuck, if you can’t guess why; then you’re beyond help.
    Anyway, I run a little business called the Trenchcoat Protection Agency; TPA for short, using my nickname to kind of give people an idea of who I am; kind of childish, but it sticks.
    My office is in on the top floor of my families’ apartment building, but since I’m the only living member of that family, it’s mine. I don’t run it, I pay a man to be the maintenance man and tell people too talk too him, so therefore they pay the rent to me and I pay him to keep upkeep; my friend Clepto set up that little arrangement for me when I left him in charge of my estates, so to speak, while I was off playing Navy Engineer, until I was medically discharged on the grounds that I wasn’t mentally sound.
    Psh. Whatever.
    Anyway, the TPA. I don’t really do this for the money; I’ve got enough coming in from the government and my apartment building that I could be living comfortably, but I hate just sitting on my a** and collecting money, so therefore I started this little venture and have been doing quite well for myself; until recently that is. I also like to race my Draco 670X, a car developed by Lycan Inc. and enter into street fights for a bit of added income and for some fun.
    But like I said, for the last couple of weeks, work has been slow and there have been no fights and no races. Everybody has been scared of their own damned shadows, worried that the Inquisition is going to show up and throw them all on crosses, or leave them as little burning heaps.
    Pansies.
    But with all that, it just leaves me sitting here at my desk watching the shadows under the door as people walk by and go about their lives and watching my fluffy gray cat as he runs around and pounces on things that I can’t see; which makes me think that there’s a catnip patch around here somewhere.
    It’s a lazy Wednesday afternoon and I get up from my desk and move to my kitchen. I’m thirsty and I want something too drink. I open the fridge and see what I’ve got, which I find isn’t much; no thanks too Clepto, he comes over all the time and he ends up eating my food; but since he stocks the fridge most of the time I can’t complain. One thing he doesn’t drink is my cream soda we’ve established that, I don’t touch his root beer and the cream soda is mine. I pull a bottle out and pop the top as I turn and look out the window to the street six floors down too see the little street urchins playing ball.
    Great, schools out; another day wasted.
    Suddenly I hear the tell-tale ringing of the phone on my desk. I quickly set the bottle down on the counter and run into the living room, hurdling the couch as I go. I make it to my desk and roll over it, picking of the receiver in one fluid motion.
    “Trenchcoat Protection Agency,” I say as I then decide that that last action had probably not been the smartest of moves as I was now tangled in the phone cord.
    “Hey TC!” Came a man’s voice, “How’s business?”
    "Slow as traffic in King's Tunnel at rush hour, Sphinx," I replied as I attempted to untangle myself.
    Sphinx is a friend of mine. He used to be a one of the best street racers in Trip City, but after an accident he just went about setting them up, refusing to be apart of them. He’s the one that got me started and I do alright; I’m not the best, but I hold my own.
    "That means your most likely not busy tonight right?"
    My cat took this moment to decide that he wanted attention and jumped up on my desk.
    "Little n**-head," I said to it as I scratched it’s head.
    “What?”
    “Yeah I’m free.”
    “Good, I decided that it’s been long enough since that s**t happened and I’m getting bored,” Sphinx told me, “"I called Big Rick J, Hiei Kurosama, and Vincent. I need a fourth, you in?"
    “Sounds good, you think I can hang with high rollers like that?” I asked him as I finally freed myself from the cord.
    “You better after the training I gave you!”
    “Yeah, I’ll be there.”
    “Good; I’ll see you on Drag Street at ten.”
    “Alright.”
    I heard the click as Sphinx hung up and I did the same. I sat down in my chair as I looked up at the black and white cat clock that hung on the wall by the door to my bedroom. It was now six twenty-seven; I had about three hours to waste. Watching the clock’s eyes and tail move back and forth as I sat there contemplating what too do. I was there for a few minutes before the answer came too me.
    "I could always go down to The Trench and see how Liz is doing" I said to the purring ball of gray fur that had curled up on my desk in a patch of fading sunlight.
    I got up and walked over to door and grabbed the black leather trench coat from the coat rack and put it on. I then walked out the door, pulling it shut behind me and locking it.