It just didn't seem like anything was striking her, so to speak, when Calico looked around for a way to die. Beheading was okay, she supposed, but being struck by the blade from the back didn't seem very sporting. The motley crew of supernaturals eyed her hungrily, but she didn't want to give any of them the satisfaction of having control over her destiny. And she just laughed as she passed by the animal cages. They practically waved hello at her, and wouldn't dream of mauling her. She just had a way about her when it came to animals.
"Ah, what am I going to do?" Calico mused to herself aloud. "I think I need a hand here."
Which is precisely what she got, wrapped around her throat. A thick man with the weird juxtaposition of an unshaven baby-face spun her around. He looked like a little kid at Christmas, his eyes lit up with joy. "Glad ta help!" he declared, and grabbed a plastic bag, pulling it down over her head and cinching it tight.
Calico felt the plastic slick against her skin, clinging to her mouth as she inhaled the last of the air. Her chest burned a bit with nothing inside her lungs. She began to see little flecks of light all around; it was actually quite pretty. And surprisingly, it all faded to white rather than to black. "My first customer. Thanks, lady!" echoed in her ears. That grateful face was the last thing she saw before it was all over.
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