Home Alone – Cat Burglar groomed

This original 50 page comic is available on my patreon

 

Nyx noticed the mansion because of the jewel, but she noticed the salon because of the hair. The two sat almost opposite one another on the same immaculate street, the sprawling white estate rising behind black iron gates while Lumière Salon gleamed across the road in polished glass and brass. That afternoon, Nyx walked past both wearing expensive trousers, a cream blouse and a camel coat, looking like any other well-dressed woman finishing errands before dinner. Her black hair was pulled into a high ponytail that fell almost to her waist, thick and glossy enough to swing heavily with every step. Nobody looking at her would have guessed that she had been watching the mansion for three days, learning when the private security patrol passed, how long the electronic gate remained open, which upstairs windows were usually occupied and, most importantly, where the Crimson Cat would be kept overnight. The priceless red gemstone sculpture was supposed to be transferred to a museum the following morning. Because the museum vault was undergoing maintenance, the piece had been brought to the family home for one night. One night was all Nyx needed. She watched suitcases pile beside the family SUV, saw the parents hurrying back and forth, and noticed their young daughter Lily bouncing excitedly around them in pink pajamas. Everyone was leaving. Nyx smiled to herself. Then her eyes drifted toward the salon window. She had hours before darkness and, she decided, there was no reason a perfect burglary could not begin with a perfect haircut. The real reason being it was a perfect spot to study their routine.

 

Inside the mansion, Lily had concerns of her own. They were much smaller concerns than international jewel theft, but at that moment they seemed every bit as important. Sitting at her bedroom vanity while her mother brushed her pink hair into two fluffy pigtails, Lily stared unhappily at her reflection and pulled a section of hair across her forehead. “Mom, can I have bangs before the trip?” she asked. Her mother did not even hesitate. “Absolutely not.” Lily puffed her cheeks. She had asked three times that week. She had drawn pictures of herself with bangs. She had even held a towel across her forehead to demonstrate how adorable she would look. None of it had helped. Her mother tied the second pigtail and reminded her that they were leaving in minutes, not experimenting with scissors. Lily stared at herself after her mother left the room. “Someday,” she muttered. Downstairs, her parents were still organizing luggage and checking the house. Her mother paused beside the glass case containing the Crimson Cat, reminding Lily that nobody was to touch the museum piece. Lily promised. Compared with scissors, gemstones were not particularly interesting anyway.

Across the street, Nyx settled into the salon chair and let her ponytail fall loose. The stylist’s eyebrows rose slightly as she combed through it. Released from its tie, Nyx’s hair spread across the back of the chair in a dense black sheet, reaching well below her waist. “Your hair is in excellent condition,” the stylist said after trimming the ends. Nyx watched the mansion through the mirror. Thirty minutes passed. The private security vehicle rolled by precisely when she expected it to. She could have left then. Instead she touched a section of her black hair thoughtfully. “Actually,” she said, “I’ve been considering changing the color.” The stylist smiled and opened a sample book. Nyx selected platinum streaks—many of them, dramatic against the black. Foils multiplied across her head while she continued watching the mansion.

The process took hours, which suited her perfectly. At 6:18 the groundskeeper left. Shortly afterward the electronic gate opened and closed. Lights changed upstairs. She mentally mapped every movement while her hair processed beneath dozens of silver foils. By the time the stylist rinsed them away, long platinum ribbons ran through the black from near the roots to the ends. After drying and styling, her hair looked even longer, the contrasting strands emphasizing every wave. Nyx turned her head from side to side in the mirror and smiled. She had entered asking for a trim and walked out after four hours with a striking new look. Now she only had to wait for the house to empty.

The plan almost failed before it began. Lily’s family was supposed to leave before sunset, but a phone call delayed them. Their departure was pushed back several hours, and the babysitter, Maya, was supposed to arrive while Lily’s parents attended to an unexpected family matter. Then Maya sent Lily a message: family emergency, she could not come. By then Lily’s parents were already driving away. They had told her to lock the door, stay inside and—her father had added pointedly—“No experiments.” Lily locked the front door and watched their taillights disappear beyond the gates. The enormous house became strangely quiet.

She watched television for a while. She ate snacks. She hugged her stuffed rabbit. She checked the clock. Still no Maya. Eventually, boredom pulled her upstairs. Passing the bathroom mirror, Lily stopped. Her reflection stopped with her. She lowered her eyes toward a small pair of scissors. “Just a little,” she whispered. She pulled down a section of pink hair, squinted, and snipped. Several soft strands dropped into the sink. Lily froze. The line was not perfect. She trimmed again. When she finally looked up, pink bangs rested across her forehead. Her expression slowly transformed from horror to delight. “I like it.” For several wonderful seconds, breaking the rules seemed completely worth it.

Then she heard something outside.

Lily crept toward a window and pulled the curtain aside with two fingers. A figure moved through the garden below. Not Maya. Not her parents. A woman dressed entirely in black was climbing over the boundary wall. Moonlight caught long streaks of platinum in her dark hair. Lily ducked beneath the windowsill, suddenly clutching her stuffed rabbit much tighter. She knew enough to understand what was happening. Someone was breaking into the house. Her first instinct was to hide. Her second was to call her parents. Her phone was downstairs. Nyx was already approaching the side entrance. Lily’s fear tightened into something more useful. She knew this house better than anybody. She knew which floors were slippery, which cupboards contained flour, which toys rolled fastest, where her father stored tools, and where the Crimson Cat sat glowing inside its glass case. If the woman wanted to reach it, Lily decided, she was going to have to work for it.

Outside, Nyx checked her watch. The security patrol passed exactly on schedule. She remained hidden in the shrubbery until the vehicle disappeared around the corner. Fifty minutes until the next pass. More than enough time. She disabled the window sensor, eased the frame upward and slipped inside. Her boots touched polished marble without a sound. The house smelled faintly of flowers and expensive furniture polish. Nyx straightened, brushed her long hair behind one shoulder and smiled. “Easy.” Then her boot landed on a pink skateboard.

The board shot forward.

Nyx’s expression barely had time to change before she flew backward into a laundry basket. Her newly styled hair exploded around her shoulders, several platinum strands dropping across her face. She shoved herself upright and glared at the ridiculous little skateboard. A child’s toy. Nothing more. She stood, smoothed her hair and continued. A few steps later a remote-controlled car appeared in the hallway. Nyx stopped. Somewhere above her, floorboards creaked. She looked toward the staircase. “A child?” she thought. She picked up the skateboard and examined it. Someone had stayed behind.

Lily watched through a cracked door as Nyx recovered. The burglar was much scarier up close. She was tall, controlled and clearly not amused. Even after falling into the basket, her hair remained spectacular—black and platinum waves flowing almost to her waist. Lily found herself staring at it for a second before remembering that this glamorous stranger was here to steal from them. She pushed the toy car’s controller forward.

The next several minutes became a contest neither of them had expected. Nyx followed the little red car into the kitchen only to kick a hidden bag of flour. White powder burst across her black clothes and through the lower lengths of her hair. She coughed, wiped her face and glared toward the hallway. Lily giggled from somewhere unseen. Nyx followed the sound. A suspended bucket tipped before she could stop it, dumping water across her head and shoulders. Her salon-fresh waves collapsed instantly. Platinum and black strands clung heavily to her cheeks and jacket. Water dripped from the ends onto the marble. “That,” Lily informed her from a safe distance, “wasn’t the bucket.” Nyx’s eyes narrowed. Lily vanished.

Nyx stopped treating the child as an inconvenience.

She tied part of her dripping hair back, but there was simply too much of it. Wet strands stuck to her arms, caught against buckles and swung across her face whenever she turned quickly. Another tripwire nearly sent her down. A toy car struck her ankle. She avoided one trap only to trigger another. The pristine woman who had left Lumière Salon less than two hours earlier now smelled faintly of flour, shampoo and irritation. Her expensive platinum streaks were no longer arranged in careful waves. They hung in damp ropes among the black. She repeatedly gathered them over one shoulder, furious at how much harder the house had become to navigate with several feet of wet hair trailing behind her.

Lily gradually became bolder. Each successful trap made the burglar seem less like an unstoppable villain and more like an increasingly angry adult who could be delayed, redirected and annoyed. Lily understood that she could not actually fight Nyx, so she made every hallway expensive in time. She slid around corners in her pajamas, leaving distractions behind her. Nyx chased. Lily escaped. The Crimson Cat remained untouched.

Until Nyx finally found the display room.

The red gemstone sculpture glowed beneath its lights. For the first time that evening, Nyx forgot her ruined styling. “There you are.” She bypassed the case security with practiced ease and lifted the Crimson Cat into one gloved hand. Months of planning had worked. She had it. Then something pink bounced off the side of her head.

“Hey, cat lady!”

Nyx turned slowly.

“Do not call me that.”

Lily ran.

Nyx followed, the gemstone secured at her waist. The chase ended in the craft room. Lily darted around a table. Nyx lunged after her and slipped. Her back struck a large adhesive-covered panel leaning against the wall.

WHUMP.

Nyx tried to stand.

Her head stopped.

She reached behind her. Several huge sections of hair had spread across the sticky surface like black-and-platinum ribbons. She pulled gently. Nothing moved. Harder. Pain tugged across her scalp. Nyx twisted and looked behind herself. Nearly the entire lower half of her hair was glued flat to the panel.

“No,” she whispered.

For the first time all night, Lily became completely still.

Nyx tried water. She tried cloth. She pulled individual sections. The adhesive stretched but refused to release the hair. What had survived the skateboard, flour, water and chase had finally met something it could not escape. Nyx opened a nearby tool case. Her hand hovered over several instruments before stopping above a pair of scissors.

She stared at them.

Then at the wall.

Then at the long hair trapped there.

“I just spent four hours on this.”

Lily watched from the doorway, sensing that this was somehow worse for Nyx than every previous trap combined.

Nyx gathered one thick section as close to the adhesive as she could. The scissors opened around it. For a moment she could not close them. Her hair had taken years to grow. Only hours earlier a stylist had carefully arranged the platinum streaks through all that length. Now much of it was spread helplessly across a glue-covered board.

SNIP.

The severed section remained stuck to the wall.

The freed portion sprang upward, suddenly ending near Nyx’s shoulder.

Her expression hardened.

SNIP.

Another heavy length stayed behind.

SNIP.

More hair fell free.

Nyx worked rapidly now, because hesitation made it worse. Every cut left another long black-and-platinum lock hanging from the adhesive while the hair still attached to her head became shorter and more uneven. When she finally stepped away, the waist-length style was gone. The remnants formed a rough, jagged bob around her jaw and neck, with some pieces longer than others. She stared into a small mirror.

Lily peered around the doorway.

“She looks really mad,” Lily thought.

Nyx slowly turned toward her.

Lily disappeared.

The chase resumed.

This time Nyx’s shorter hair no longer caught against furniture, but she could feel every uneven end brushing her neck. Each movement reminded her what had happened. She wanted the jewel. She wanted the child out of her way. She wanted, with increasing intensity, to leave the house before anything else touched her head.

That was when Lily ran into the garage.

A huge covered machine stood in one corner. Lily knew exactly what it was: the Pet-Perfect 3000, an absurdly expensive automated pet-grooming system her family had acquired and rarely used. Nyx did not.

“No more running,” Nyx said, advancing.

“Okay,” Lily replied.

That answer immediately made Nyx suspicious.

She took one more step.

Her boot landed on the same pink skateboard.

The world tilted.

Nyx crashed backward into the padded grooming chair. Mechanical restraints snapped gently but firmly around her arms. A cape unfolded across her chest.

“What is this?”

A screen illuminated beside her.

CAT DETECTED.

Nyx stared at it.

“I am not a cat.”

The scanner moved over her freshly hacked hair.

COAT CONDITION: UNEVEN.

AUTOMATIC GROOMING RECOMMENDED.

“Absolutely not.”

Lily rushed forward and began pressing buttons, trying to stop the machine. Instead, the system analyzed Nyx again. The uneven bob and the strands stuck to her damp clothing apparently confused its recognition software.

BREED PROFILE UPDATED.

SHORT-HAIR CAT.

SUMMER GROOM.

Nyx’s eyes widened.

Then she heard the unmistakable sound.

BZZZZZZ.

Two mechanical clipper arms extended from behind the chair.

“Why are there clippers?”

Lily backed away.

The first clipper touched Nyx’s nape.

“STOP!”

It travelled upward.

A wide strip of black-and-platinum hair dropped onto the white cape.

Nyx froze in disbelief.

The second clipper moved along the opposite side. BZZZZZ. More hair fell. The jagged bob she had reluctantly created only minutes earlier began disappearing in thick sections. Clippers climbed around her ears, shearing the sides close. Dark clippings mixed with pale platinum strands across her shoulders and lap. Nyx twisted against the restraints, but the chair held her perfectly centered while the machine worked with cheerful efficiency.

BZZZZZ.

Another section vanished.

BZZZZZ.

The back became uniformly short.

Lily stared, horrified and fascinated. She had wanted to stop a burglar, not operate an automatic barbershop.

The machine changed tools. Small automated scissors descended toward the longer hair remaining on top.

SNIP-SNIP-SNIP-SNIP.

Short pieces showered across Nyx’s forehead and cape.

The display flashed STYLING.

Nyx closed her eyes.

Minutes earlier she had been mourning a rough bob. Now even that seemed luxurious.

When the chair finally released her, the screen announced PURR-FECT! GROOMING COMPLETE.

Nyx slowly raised a hand to her head.

Her fingers met short, bristly hair.

Nothing fell over her shoulders. Nothing touched her neck. There were no long platinum streaks to pull forward, no waves to gather, no ponytail to hold. Everything that had once reached her waist was now either glued to the craft-room wall, scattered through the mansion, or piled in black-and-platinum clippings across the grooming cape.

Lily tried to offer reassurance.

“The front part looks nice.”

Nyx looked at her.

“Lily.”

“Yes?”

Red and blue lights suddenly flashed through the garage windows.

Police vehicles filled the driveway.

For the first time that night, Lily smiled without planning another trap.

Nyx looked toward the doors, then down at the Crimson Cat still secured at her waist. She considered running for approximately one second.

The garage doors opened.

Nyx raised both hands.

Later, while Lily’s mother hugged her and her father tried to understand why flour, water, toys, glue and several pounds of hair seemed to be distributed throughout their home, Nyx sat in the back of a police vehicle with her wrists cuffed behind her. Her reflection stared back from the dark glass. She turned her head slightly. The cut was shockingly short. Neat, at least. The machine had succeeded at that. Nyx touched the back once before an officer told her to keep her hands still.

The following morning, Lily sat at the kitchen island while her mother studied her carefully.

“Lily.”

“Yes?”

“Did you cut your bangs?”

Lily looked down.

“That is not the haircut I have questions about,” her father muttered while watching the news.

On the television, Nyx’s mugshot appeared beside footage of the recovered Crimson Cat. Her once enormous black-and-platinum hairstyle had been reduced to a severe, close-cropped cut. The reporter explained that the stolen gemstone had been recovered without damage.

Lily’s mother looked from the screen to her daughter’s uneven bangs.

Lily hugged her stuffed rabbit.

“Sorry.”

Her father glanced toward the garage, then toward the news.

After a long silence, he said, “Next vacation, we are boarding the grooming machine.”

Lily smiled.

Somewhere across town, Nyx sat in a holding cell and ran one hand over the unfamiliar short bristles covering her head. She had entered the evening with a perfect plan, a perfect disguise and nearly waist-length hair freshly streaked platinum after four expensive hours in a salon. She had expected to leave the mansion with the Crimson Cat before anyone knew she had been there.

Instead, a little girl had taken one look at a burglar and weaponized an entire house.

The jewel was back where it belonged.

Lily finally had her bangs.

And Nyx would not be needing another four-hour salon appointment for a very, very long time.