On a busy street in a busy borough of a busy city, a group of pedestrians huddles around a shop's window, bathed in a blue glow, almost like they were gathering for warmth around a fire but they weren't. Instead they were watching a television continuing a broadcast about what was discussed by the overworked anchorman the night before.
Large quantities of cars blot the lanes of the road, a few of them honking. Not because the road is congested, but because for some reason scenes require cars to be honking for no reason occasionally to complete the scene's ambience.
An intersection's crossing light comes on, "DO NOT WALK", but people continue to walk, because it's a free country.
A woman among the crowd stares at the screen behind the shop window, watchingly. Her face silent along with the rest of them. Their determined laser focus the strongest commonality among them outside their pure, radiating, American freedom. An eagle can be heard screeching in the distance— or maybe a seagull. It's hard to say, as I'm a narrator, not a birdwatcher.
She catches the ending of the follow-up broadcast, without using her hands.
Chip Douglas, the ever more disheveled and overworked reporter was just beginning to state his conclusive summary to the present state of affairs, joined by his new co-host, a short dark-brown goatee.
"And again, to summarize, Japan's response has been incredibly defiant. As we speak, thirty-seven thousand and counting of Japan's finest Hokey-Pokey athletes have been amassing in various locations surrounding Tokyo. Their cold calculated faces seem hungry to find out what it's all about. Finley "Chops" O'Cooley has remained mostly silent and refused to offer any comment other than quote: "Aye, you can put your left-hand in, but what about yer hearts?" unquote. It seems he's not optimistic about his competition."
A small pause ensues and Douglas continues: "And lastly tonight, we ask our viewers for a moment of silence, for one of Badger News's own, Beth Winslow.
Moments after Beth was able to flee the scene of two London men fighting mid-broadcast, barely with her life; she managed to get no more than a block away before several intoxicated London men stormed out of a nearby pub. Upon seeing Beth through the window of the pub, they mistakenly believed her to be an ambulance driver, and then attacked her."
Douglas went on to continue about the events, but the woman watching had lost interest. She began walking away, her coat's collar standing up, a small thick fence of fabric surrounding her face, not doing a whole lot at hiding her identity, but still making her look mysterious, and keeping her safe from illegal gazes. Her fancy shoes clapping with the cement as she walked.
She stepped onto the paved asphalt of the road, passing by a storm drain when a familiar voice calling to her, had caught her attention- also with no hands.
"Evening m'lady."
She turned to a sight of an anthropomorphic reptile wearing a brown suede fedora and matching trench coat.
"It's yours truly, Mr. Al E. Gader. Care for a bite?"
But she was quick to chirp back: "Oh, no, no, no! I don't think so! I'm not falling for that again."
She pointed down at one of her legs, which had been subtly removed at the knee and ended in a barely noticeable stump.
"Not this time!" she said, as she ran away, her shoes continuing their clapping of the cement and pavement, but faster for some reason.
"Oh, alright... See ya later..." said Mr. Gader, quietly to himself.
"Hopefully not in a while!" She responded.