So much for the hope that the kick would drive the cat off without him having to fight it. Though Wally had to admit, if it had been that easy, chances were that the guy wouldn't have needed a rescue in the first place.

Still, he'd been kinda counting on the kick doing a bit more damage, but it seemed like all it had done was get some gunk on his foot (which was pretty disgusting), and make the thing mad. What with the cat leaping for his face and all.

"Whoa! Down kitty! What am I, a zombie chew toy?" Wally yelped, swinging wildly with the only thing he had at hand right then: his flashlight. "Go find some meow mix or something!"