[????] "Yeah, I Put a Lot of Cats in That Wall"

[Blake's been feeling a foreboding for days. An itch in the back of his head. Somthing making his floral piggybank thing lay on its side and stare into space a lot, somehow even creepier than usual. Something that had him sleeping bad enough to spend some nights sitting in the dark watching Throh's Company reruns. Eventually, he thinks he's figured out why.

This fucking time of year again. The time when everything goes from the usual crazy to fucking happy horseshit hell.

He'd planned to spend the time like anybody reasonable would - keeping the shades drawn and hunching over his gun.

One step works all right- he throws a drawer open and there it is. His trusty old SIG Sauer, heavy and real in his grip. That's the one good thing about this, finally having his weapon back in his hand and feeling right again.

Then he flings the curtains shut and goes to sit down in an armchair and wait it out.

A flash of something jabs him in the eye. He blinks and shakes his head hard. Fuck, there it is again. He growls Fuck! and surges to his feet. Some goddamn thing is shining through the crack in the curtain, probably some idiot's metal monster or giant robot--

The first thing he notices when he throws the curtains open is the giant shiny rock jutting out of the ground.

The second is that this is not the same city he closed them on.

Blake groans from the bottom of his heart.] Fucking hell.