Vince had listened to the entire explanation from the feline in front of him in silence; now was the time for him to make a decision. He took a deep breath and scrutinized the talking animal.
"Before we make any kind of agreement or whatever. I need to know your name. It won't be normal to call you 'hey' or 'you'," Vince finally said, staring at the strange feline creature. "So, how should I address you?"
The animal smiled with a somewhat mocking expression on its face. That question seemed to amuse the feline.
"I'd like to tell you my name. But, much like my true form, your mind wouldn't withstand the power of the Perpetual language. So just call me Cat or anything else that comes to your mind."
Vince shrugged, giving up. It was almost impossible to extract any decent information from that enigmatic being.
"I guess that'll be the way. I hope we can achieve our goals together." Now it was Vince's turn to extend his hand to the Cat. "I just hope I won't regret this."
"Trust me, Vince. This is the best decision you've ever made in your life."
The Cat extended its paw again, shaking hands with the man.
When their hands met (or rather, the hand and the paw), a huge bluish light began to emanate from the point of contact between the man and the feline, pulling them toward each other. The light grew more intense as the two saw their vital bond being formed. When Vince opened his eyes again, after the intense blue glow had dissipated, he realized he was lying in his old office, in the same place where he had died. It was exactly what the Cat had said: Vince was back to life.
The old smell in his office filled his nose and lungs. He never thought the scent of cigarettes and whisky would bring him so much peace. But something seemed wrong. Among the usual smells of his small office, one of them didn't fit. It was something he recognized, but not for a positive reason.
It was the smell of gasoline.
He stood up, searching for the source of the gasoline when he noticed the two intruders he had triggered the ambush against Vince and his imminent death. A somewhat cruel smile took place on his face. This would be the first step toward his revenge. Grabbing the whisky bottle he was drinking before the attack, Vince hit one of Marcus's henchmen in the face when he was distracted, spilling gasoline in the office. The man staggered, unable to see because the liquid had entered his eyes.
The second intruder seemed to notice the commotion and drew his gun. Three shots were fired in Vince's direction, but, for some supernatural reason, he managed to dodge them easily, as if the bullets were moving in slow motion. With the remaining piece of the bottle in his hand, Vince pierced the right eye of the man. A scream of pain echoed, and in a desperate move, the man dropped the weapon, placing both hands over his face.
"You son of a bitch," the man gasped as he spoke, "I don't know how you're still standing, but this time, I'll really kill you."
With the reflexes of a cat, Vince grabbed the still-falling gun and, out of survival instinct, used the man he had just attacked as a human shield. As if he had foreseen what was coming, a bullet came towards him, but his new human shield had just defended him. The man was hit in the hip.
He began to scream again, but with a quick and almost elegant movement, Vince rested the gun barrel on the invader's head and, without saying a word, pulled the trigger.
Without uttering a word, Vince threw the lifeless body of the man onto his companion, disrupting his view. The second intruder managed to avoid being hit by the body, but, to his misfortune, Vince was already by his side, with the gun pointed at his head. And once again, without saying a single word, Vince fired.
The two invaders were dead.