Whiskers. The FFL is mine now. And those orbs?" He gestured with a paw. "I plan to redistribute them… starting with yours."
Whiskers stood tall—well, as tall as a cat can. "You broke the Pact of the Paw, Mouser. You drained lives, manipulated leases. You even lied about your tuna preferences."
Gasp.
I took a step back toward the wall of glowing orbs. One had Whiskers' name etched in cursive. Another orb shimmered faintly—mine.
"Why is my name on this?" I whispered.
Whiskers shot me a sideways glance. "I... may have added you to the lease. In case I got banished. Or... hairball'd."
Suddenly, red lights flashed. An alarm sounded: "LIFE TRANSFER INITIATED."
Mouser pounced, slamming his paw onto a glowing control panel. The orbs began to flicker and spiral upward, drawn toward a swirling vortex in the ceiling.
"Time to upgrade, old friend," Mouser growled.
Instinct kicked in. I dove for the nearest orb and—without thinking—shoved it into Whiskers' paws. He hissed. The vortex cracked. The power surged. Sparks flew.
Then everything went dark.
When the lights returned, Baron Mouser was gone. Nothing left but a singed bowtie and one final orb… pulsing softly.
Whiskers wobbled, then stood. "You just cost me a nap cycle, but... thanks."
I exhaled. "Is it over?"
He shook his head slowly. "No. This was just his decoy life. The real Baron… is upstairs. Apartment 9B."
We turned to face the elevator—its doors slowly creaking open.