Once again, Coonie was the first to wake up the following morning. She had circled the small apartment four times, making careful note of each of the cracks in the wall as she passed by them. About to start her fifth pass, she suddenly stopped, looking around the room again.

There was a distinct lack of food, aside from whatever Teddycat was able to pull out of that creepy desk of his. And she doubted very much the nutritional value of a Netherworld-exclusive diet. Glancing back at the sleeping Blaster, she frowned. Would it really kill him to do some shopping every now and then? Granted, even the smallest mini-fridge would take up a considerable amount of room in that claustrophobic place…

The Defender crossed the room to stand in front of the desk, and frowned down at its surface. Sure, there was plenty of paper—enough to make even a forest blush—but for the life of her, she couldn’t seem to find something to write with. And just how was she to make a list, if she lacked even the most basic of writing utensils?

Braving the mountain of diagrams, Coonie began to sift through the stacks of loose paper for her objective. It would be just like a mission, she told herself. Although, unlike most of her missions, she probably wouldn’t come out of it singed, violently ill, or missing large patches of skin.

Catching a glimpse of what looked very much like a gnawed-on number two pencil, she stretched to reach it, her tongue poking out between her lips as her fingers felt around for it. Just as the tips of her fingers touched the wood, several stacks of paper and books lurched violently in her direction. Laughing nervously, she grabbed the pencil at the same time the first of the mountains toppled down on top of her.

Teddycat mumbled something or other in his sleep, before turning over and pulling the blanket over his head. Coughing, the raccoon slowly unburied herself from the avalanche, pencil firmly in her hand. Not the least bit discouraged, the Defender grabbed the first sheet of paper she saw—what appeared to be a very badly drawn sketch of a demon—and set to her work.

Tapping the eraser on her knee, she considered exactly what ought to go on the list. Apple Jacks, to start. Sure, the ones from the desk were okay, but there was nothing quite like the real thing. And that would mean she needed milk, too, although she’d been known to eat them straight from the box on more than one occasion. Fish would probably be a good idea; she hadn’t had any in years, though she had a vague memory of liking it when she was younger.

Three things. That was hardly a list, she thought, frowning again. Coonie stared at the list for several minutes, before coming to the conclusion that there was really nothing more she could possibly think of (though of course, after the fact, she could’ve named at least twenty more things she should have added. Lucky Charms, for one). Crumpling the list into her front pocket, she once again looked at Teddycat. By the looks of things, he’d still be out for several more hours. Sighing, she brushed her ear out of her face, and headed for the front door.

It had been easy enough to find the Atlas Mart. It was, afterall, one of the largest buildings in Skyway City. The problem was in finding what she needed--not because the aisles weren’t properly labeled, but because she was distracted at nearly every turn by shiny objects. Now, they tell you that crows are notorious for making off with anything and everything with a glimmer to it, but they’d obviously never taken a raccoon such as herself into consideration.

The Atlas Mart greeter smiled at her as she wandered into the store, her eyes wide and darting from one display to the next. From that point on, Coonie was what most would refer to as a "lost cause." She’d darted through every aisle at least twice, and very nearly gotten trapped in the freezers thrice; the Defender had tried every free sample, snipped every coupon, and watched for every slippery floor before she remembered that she was there for a reason.

Looking down the cereal aisle was a lot like a free pass to Disney World, where every ride was reserved just for you. There were the famous cereals, and the ones that tried very much to be the famous cereals, although they always came up short. There were the jumbo boxes, and the individual boxes, and boxes that were large enough to almost eat her alive. Hot cereals mingled next to cold cereals, and sugar-free cereals stared down confections that made her teeth hurt just thinking about them.

Coonie finally stopped midway down the aisle, where a familiar green box was awaiting her arrival. Examining each of her options, she carefully considered which lucky candidate she would bring back to the apartment (she’d have taken all of them, had she thought they’d fit) before settling on an unassuming box at a slightly different angle to all of the others on the display.

The first part of her epic quest complete, she headed towards the back of the store, where the dairy aisle was located. She’d never really thought about it before, but it seemed ridiculous that the milk was so far away from the cereal. They obviously went together; in fact, they ought to be packaged together. The Defender would remember to write that on a suggestion card at Customer Service.

Milk, for the most part, is not meant to be funny, intentionally or otherwise. But the raccoon had been laughing at one particular carton for going on fifteen minutes, while wary mothers guided their children well away from her. It wasn’t the milk itself, really, but rather the poorly rendered caricature of the cow stamped to the front of it. It resembled more of a circle with stick legs and a bad case of the chickenpox than any cow she’d ever seen. Though it wasn’t the kind she preferred, she adopted it anyway, if only so she could laugh at the package more when she got back to the apartment.

Two-thirds of the way done, she headed towards her most daunting item: the fish. She’d never thought there was much difference between the types of fish, seeing as each of them tasted rather like…well, fish. As she approached the counter, however, she felt suddenly overwhelmed by the number of creepy-looking eyes staring back at her. Luckily, she was soon rescued by the fishmonger, who had to lean over the counter to see her.

“I’d like a fish, please,” she said, and the man raised an eyebrow, his eyes taking in the dozens of varieties of fish laid out on the ice.

“You really have to be more specific than that, lady,” he offered, and she frowned.

“Well, so long as it tastes like a fish, I don’t think I really care what kind it is.”

He blinked wordlessly, trying to decide if this were some sort of joke. But going by the look on her face… “A fish that tastes like a fish. Well, lucky you, I think we have some of that in stock.”

Coonie bounced up and down on her heels, clapping her hands together. The fishmonger rolled his eyes, sighing as he selected a few choice pieces of flounder and weighed them. She practically beamed as he handed the wrapped package to her, satisfied in the knowledge that her mission was accomplished, with no casualties whatsoever. That had to be a new record.

The checkout stand was relatively boring, in comparison to the rest of the trip. Her eyes wandered lazily from the tabloids to the candy, before finally settling on the clock in the corner of the television above the register. Jeez, she’d been gone for three hours, already. Teddycat would be waking up soon, and she’d forgotten to leave him a note saying where she’d gotten off to.

Bags in hand, she hurried back to the outside world, taking a brief moment to orient herself. Finding her landmark, she began the short trip back to the apartment. Coonie had barely gone a handful of steps, however, before a foul-smelling cloth was pressed against her face. Though she struggled, strong arms held her fast, and before long her world faded to black.

Teddycat was woken by a sharp knock at the door, and looked around anxiously before realizing that it was probably nothing to worry about. People constantly came to his door asking for various things, from the proverbial cup of sugar, to a signature on a petition to ban skirts of a particular length from Icon. Rubbing at his eyes, the Blaster yawned, looking around the apartment much the same as he did every morning.

At first, nothing seemed to be out of place, aside from a foot-tall pile of papers on the floor in front of his desk. But even that was nothing new, the damn things fell over all the time. Just as he was about to head back to bed, it suddenly dawned on him.

The Defender was gone.

He’d have thought that would excite him more than it actually did. In fact, he even felt a tad bit lonely in his empty apartment. But she’d probably left for Perez Park hours ago, seeing as she’d only agreed to spending the night. For a moment, he thought he felt the least bit disappointed.

Another knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, and Teddycat stood, his muscles shaking off the sleep reluctantly. Upon opening the door, he initially saw nothing. Probably just another one of the neighbor’s kids trying to mess with his head. Muttering, he went to close the door again. A folded card nailed to the front of his door, however, caught his attention.

Unfolding it, he read it over once quickly. And then again. By the third read,  none of the words were making sense anymore.

In plain, neat handwriting was written an address in downtown Steel Canyon, followed by a brief message. He’d never been one to get particularly upset over words—sticks and stones, and all of that—but this particular combination of letters managed to infuriate him as no others before them had ever been capable of.

Grabbing his shirt from the floor, he stormed out of the door. Only to storm back in a second later, slamming the door hard enough to knock it off its hinges as he grabbed the dropped note. It wasn’t long after that that things began to burn, starting with his bed and moving down the hall to the lobby as he moved through the building with a purpose he’d never before known.

He was off into the bright sunlight in a matter of moments, heading towards the tram to Steel Canyon at a speed that would’ve put Synapse to shame. There simply was no time to waste, however.

Coonie had been kidnapped by the Council.