Welcome to my continuing series and evolution on writing. Puddles and Whiskers began as a rough draft, which was turned into a draft, then I continued their story with more rough drafts. Now, I resume the editing process. WDB stands for Wash and Dry Brush, two phases in painting where details are added, mistakes are corrected, expansions are made, all to set up the end run the “final” edit. I also uses WDBs to ensure the story flows and if necessary make course corrections. Enjoy watching the evolution of Puddles and Whiskers.
For comparison, see here.
At the sound of a well-loved and used frying pan bouncing off a skull, everyone in the ramshackle room stopped fighting, for a brief second. Pouncing back from her fallen foe, golden furred Puddles tufted ears flat against her skull, tail stiff, and teeth bared brandished her frying pan above her head, drawing her Maxwell Arms Manstopper pistol from a shoulder holster at the same time and shooting a charging black and red clad mook.
“Give up will ya!” Puddles shouted at the room full of mooks.
Spotted gray and white furred Whiskers knee-slid underneath the sloppy punch of a mook, gutting the mook with his katana. Popping up from the slide, Whiskers flicked his katana clean of blood, and sought another challenger. Whiskers did not have to wait long; knocking smaller mooks aside with swings of a large pipe, a towering over-muscled mook lumbered straight towards Whiskers. Adjusting his grip to a low-position, Whiskers waited for the moment to strike the perfect blow.
Three large bloody holes appeared on the over-muscled mook’s chest. For a brief second, the mook looked surprised before falling over. Curved knives drawn, three more mooks lept over his body to take his place.
“You’re welcome!” Puddles shouted at Whiskers.
Whiskers quickly shot Puddles an irritated glare before returning his attention to the mooks. The perfect moment gone, Whiskers charged the mooks. Sidestepping to the right at the last second, Whiskers swung his katana upwards, a blue holo-etching the length of the blade flared casting a blue light trail upwards, gutting the mook on the right as they passed each other. A half step forward, a downward stroke, followed by a quick slice to the right and the other two mooks fell clutching their wounds as the blue trail faded.
…other than their labored breathing, the room was silent. Puddles strolled over trash and dead mooks to Whiskers. Wiping his blade clean on a dead mook, Whiskers faced Puddles, his short pointed ears back while his tail slashed thru the air giving extra body English to his irritation with his longtime partner.
Pointing at the over-muscled mook’s body, “What was that about?”
Puddles shrugged. Her spotted tail waving lazily in an S-pattern that Whisker’s knew so well; her “Oops, did I do that,” when she knew what she had done shrug.
“I couldn’t let you have all the fun,” Puddles said over her shoulder, holstering her pistol while stepping over dead mooks on her way to the doorway, tail swishing away as if she did not have a care in the world.
Tail lashing, Whiskers stood for a moment, gripping his katana tightly holo-etching flaring bright, before sheathing in one smooth motion. He gave the over-muscled mook one last look before following Puddles out of the room into a refuse and graffiti covered hallway. The hallway floor cocked downward, ceiling tiles hung ready to fall at any moment. Halfway down the hallway, alarms began to sound and the few working hallway lights went from white to emergency red.
Ears upright, alert, Puddles looked at the ceiling, “Seems like an odd security system for a gang.”
“Took them long enough,” Whiskers mused.
“I thought we made more than enough noise,” Puddles replied.
“Yes you,” Puddles made her infamous “Who me” gesture; ears forward, eyes wide, and arms held out.
“If you weren’t such a push over we wouldn’t be here,” Puddles said while peeking around a corner.