The sounds of backed up cars in Manhattan echoed through the neighborhood, loud honking horns causing a headache for even the most seasoned natives. Crowds of people pass each other like ships in a chaotic sea, every person carrying their own business. The air is thick, and it's a challenge to even breathe freely without the smell of car exhaust and gasoline.

Yet, all that energy, the vehicles, the people walking by, are drowned out by one area. A quiet, unassuming alleyway, where a black cat with white paws calls home. Her name is Mittens.

You might've passed by without a second thought, and you would've been right to. Who cares about one feral cat in an alley? But something about this scene caught your eye. A transaction was taking place. And a nefarious one, at that. The cat, resting on her haunches, had a plump, shivering pigeon in front of her. She'd just picked clean an anchovy, right down to the bone, courtesy of the bird in front of her. You could just make out what she was saying, as she leaned in towards the cowering pigeon.

"Okay, babe. Next time, how about more than just one little fish, mmhm? Or else, y'know, I could always..." The cat then made a swiping motion with her paw, to which the pigeon furiously nodded its head, before flying away to the sanctuary of the city's main park. Mittens watched the pigeon fly out of her alley, before her gaze fell down onto you. Who'd been watching her.

She didn't move from her spot, and in true feline form, didn't regard you with much to start with. She simply licked her paw, glanced at you with green eyes, and asked a simple question. "And.. uh... just who are you, buddy?"