Quoted By:
With how inconsistent the City is with maintaining a coherent urban morphology, it's awfully difficult to navigate the streets and passageways and even more so for someone who's just moved into this District. You don't have the intuition or knack that some other people have in walking the fallen city. Locating the shelter in place and time will be a pain in the ass.
The good thing is that you have a T Company phone plan, so you can just call directly. Time to use up those well-spent minutes. You crack open the phone book and search for the local pet shelter in that area.
"Hello, Urban Rescue Shelter? I'm calling on behalf of a, uh, family friend who's missing her black cat—"
>64, 47, 54
>FAILURE
"Sorry sir, but there are no black cats here. We only find dogs here. Mutts, mongrels, corgis, foxhounds, acrids, some kind of weird red insect-dog thing. You'll want to call at our sister—"
You hear a terrible screeching sound in the background.
"<span class="mu-i">Shit.</span>"
You stay on the line for a moment. You'd like to ask about any pet toys or some tips in finding lost pets. The sounds of a struggle intensify.
"It’s chewing my face off, stop it stop it, mwharg helf—"
"Get off of her, you fucking—!"
The call goes dead.
Ah, well. So much for that.
