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"Maybe the idea is to let the chaos come to us, instead of the other way around. We're sure as hell not finding anything just wandering around like this," sighed Rage, his hands behind his head with his arms out to his sides. "You got any ideas?"

"Hmm...Rafe did say the chaos would come to us...that we needn't seek it out..." Owle's eyes lit up. "Hey, why don't we act normal? Like, say...by going shopping?"

They'd come full circle, after all, and were next to the shopping district again.

Not that she had any money. But Rage had promised to buy her an outfit...and that skirt was so darn cute...

"Fish!" Owle exclaimed. The woman melted into a black cat, darted over to the spent ammo, and scooped a fish up in her mouth.

I'll just eat this on the way... she sent to Rage. A snowflake landed on her back, and she shivered. Maybe I should look for a nice jacket...I've only got a sweater handy if the weather keeps changing like this.

Not much for fish, Rage passed on the idea of free fish over by the penguins. He'd still eat it if it was the only thing available - not nearly as stingy as his grandfather....

"Oh for the love of, I'm getting out of here," grumbled Rage, heading off to the shopping district as the penguin gave it's dying words.

But there weren't any survivors. Apparantly the enemy had done their research: Fish don't kill penguins, guns kill penguins.

On the other hand, fish are a source of fatty acids nessasary for a balanced diet.

The more you know.

Angry sprits here. Not just of the penguin army, but of all those that died in an army before them in the name of war.

Perhaps that's why they began to stir, slowly at first. But then with intensity, and the wails slowly became audible like radio static. Strange crap was going on here, very strange.

All the windows on all the identical houses flew open in unison. Then from out of them all the linens, all the blankets, all the pillows. Each one the same sterile military white, each one held by a restless spirit. From nowhere a shadow thread began to form, and much to many people's amazement, began to sew the blankets together. The pillows rushed up from the hole left underneath, giving the now giant blanket monster some girth to it.
As the blanket settled over the ball of pillows, extra blankets formed on the side of the linen creation to form arms. Looking more and more complete a few of the even more strangeness happened in the form of blue spectral fire. It burned two holes above the centre of the creation that seemed like pitch black eyes.
Then seams began to rip slightly below the two eyes. Eventually thread snapped and a ghostly wail was released from the newly formed maw. As a final touch, a long lashing tongue made out red checkered table cloths rolled out of the newly formed mouth.

Trick or treat?

Marg screamed. Like a little girl, he screamed, holding up the cat idol before his face, kneeling down, huddled against the pillowy barrage that was coming his way. "Oh my goddess!" he screamed out, begging for forgivness from the cat idol.

And lo and behold, forgiveness was granted, as one of the pillow shots veered off a collision course with the man, rocketing into a side alley, and slamming into one scared, wounded dog.

The same dog as before. The yelp cracked the air like a thunderbolt as the pooch went flying.

Slowly, it pulled itself up out of the rubble of the wall it slammed into, limping away, and giving Marg what he thought was a very dirty stare.

"Stoopid dog!" he called after it, blowing raspberries after the retreating hound.

Only to get knocked flat on his a**, as one last pillow slammed into his chest.