Power in a Name?

A glob of foul-smelling garbage whizzed through the air and smacked into the far wall with a sickening splat. The unfortunate cat cowering against said wall was now attempting not to wince at the unknown substances oozing down on his head.

"Say that again." The voice was deep and gravelly, as if a permanent growl was stuck in the speaker's throat.

"Th-they weren't there, sir," the cringing cat whispered, praying that he wouldn't get something sharp thrown at him this time.

The cat at the other end of the dingy room stood to his full impressive height and took carefully measured steps across the filthy floor. He was silent except for a low rumbling that was softer than a growl but more sinister than a purr. When he reached the frightened brown tom he bent so that his face was just inches away from the other's, and when he spoke it was barely above a murmur.

"Someone informed them." The brown tom managed a slight nod. Long claws dug into his shoulders and he himself was flung across the room. "Someone talked! Who?" the evil cat snarled, but his only response was a tense silence. He gave a frustrated yowl and swiped at the wall, which only served to further inflame his temper. The other cat took this opportunity to scramble away, for when Macavity was angry, he usually found someone to inflict pain upon.

Now that the ginger crime lord was alone (he was fully aware of his informant's escape, he would deal with that later) he began to pace back and forth, long tail lashing in his fury. He became more vocal, muttering obscenities at the latest failure.

"That's the third time this month my victims have gotten away before I could apprehend them!" he ranted, hoisting a rotting wooden crate over his head and hurling it against a wall where it smashed into satisfying splinters. "There's only one explanation. One of my cats is betraying me. One of my own tribe..." The ginger tom's language lapsed into nearly incoherent muttering with barely recognizable phrases like, "...have no control..." "I don't even know that cat's name..." Suddenly he stopped mid-stride. "Didn't know his name..." "...his name..." he mouthed the words. Sinking down into a more comfortable position, one he always used while deep in thought, he pondered what he had just said, and an idea began to form in his twisted mind.

"Of course there's that worthless everyday name, only housecats" he spat the word, "use that. And the second name, why, it's only for distinguishing one henchcat from another." He paused, relishing the inevitable next thought. "But the third name...deep, singular, inscrutable, whatever. I wonder...what would happen if a cat did confess his ineffable name? Is it possible?" Macavity mused. As for the Hidden Paw himself, he didn't even know his third name anymore, not understanding the point of wasting your time pondering a name no one knew anyway. But what if there was power in the ineffable name? Macavity's devious imagination could only guess what that could be, and a malicious grin threatened to appear on his face. "Only one way to find out..."


This is just an idea I had, and I haven't really seen much written about the mysteries of the three names. I'm not sure if I shall continue the story, so any feedback would be very helpful. RS