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I kicked the solid, metal door as hard as I could, and it flew open with a loud thud. The cold night air hit me in the face, ruffling my fur as I stepped out onto the dark rooftop. My eyes searched the shadows for any movement, and my fingers tightened around the short-nosed revolver in my paw.

My free paw clenched the neck of the shirt of the large thug I had been holding hostage, and dragged him after me as I took a few more cautious steps onto the roof. The ground had markings for a helipad on it: more evidence of the greed of the building's owner. I had expected a couple of jacuzzis up there, but the rooftop was just hard, unforgiving concrete.

"About time you showed up," a low, gravelly voice said from behind me. I spun around, putting the thug in front of me for protection, and raised my gun. A figure, hidden in shadows, leaned against the wall of the stairwell I had just come out of. He was at least three inches taller than even me, and probably had twice the muscle mass. He slowly stepped forward out of the shadows, and I finally got my first good look at him. His lumpy bulldog face looked out of place on top of his custom-tailored gray suit. The thick pistol in his hand, of course, was the only thing that I really paid attention to.

"You wanna talk?" he asked gruffly. "Start talkin'."

I took a deep breath to try to trick my body into calming down. It didn't work. "I'm here to end your reign of terror over this city right here, right now. We've suffered under the Pack for too long. It's time for a change."

He laughed. "And how d'ya suppose you'll do that? Huh, kid?"

I cocked the firing lever on the pistol. "I'm sure this has something to do with it."

The bulldog laughed again. "Kid, I don't think you understand that I'm holding all the cards here. You got nothin'!"

"You can't shoot me if I have one of your peons here for protection."

The mob boss smiled cruelly and, not even looking, shot the thug in the chest. The thug grunted and slouched to the ground, leaving blood behind on my clothes and on my fur.

"You were saying?" he asked with a sneer.

I held up my revolver, aimed at my adversary's chest, and pulled the trigger. The pistol made a pathetic cough in comparison to the boss' weapon, but the bullet ripped a hole in the bulldog's nice suit and made him stumble back a step.

My grin disappeared as I realized there was no blood coming from the hole in his attire. He must have been wearing a bulletproof vest under the suit. My blood ran cold as my grand plan fell to pieces in my mind.

He tossed his gun aside and strode up to me quickly. I fired four more shots into him as he approached, but all in vain. He grabbed the gun out of my paw with one hand and punched me in the face with the other. I went reeling, tripping over my own feet. My motion was only stopped by the ledge of the rooftop, which I slumped down against. The mob boss walked up to me and gave me a kick to the ribs. I coughed as my lungs refused to take in any air, and I felt like I was going to suffocate. More kicks started raining down from above, landing on every part of my body and slamming my head into the concrete. When the boss thought I had enough, he grabbed my by the throat, and made me stand up against the ledge of the roof.

Using the eye that was least squinted shut from immediate bruising, I dared look down over the edge of the building. I nearly went dizzy. The building didn't look this tall from the ground. Trash cans were the size of pin heads from this altitude.

My enemy chuckled. "You like the view? I thought you might. Unfortunately, it's gonna be the last thing you ever see."

I looked back at his ugly face. His breath was unbearable as he smiled to my face. "You got guts, kid, and I respect that," he said, "but guts ain't enough to survive in my city. And I think you're about to find that out the hard way."

He stepped back, holding my gun just inches away from my chest. "Goodbye, little kitten."

The bullet ripped through my stomach, spreading my blood across the night sky. I fell back over the railing, tumbling head over heels toward the alleyway forty stories below. What was I thinking? I thought to myself as the ground quickly rose up to greet me.