8 Ball in the Cat's Pocket
Written by Nexas Dubhsithe
Hustled around through the nebulous travel in the dark reaches of space and time, the devilish figure sighed in frustration of the eternal cacophony that swam through his mind each and every time he traveled. Within the rainbow flashing sarcophagus, only one song played, one best kept in the strict company of poptart cat hybrids rushing through the stars. Holding tight the desire to smash his head into the side of his time and relative dimensions in space device, the green skinned abomination gritted his teeth in abject despair.
Were it not for a simple gypsy curse, he would've never had to cope with the ill song that threatened to gnash away at the very thin threads of sanity he possessed. Despite that repercussion, it still brought a small smile to his fanged smile as he recalled that time, his one large protruding fang nicking his chin with a small dribble of cherry-red blood to accent the sweet, violent memory. As with all the other monsters in the multiverse, he had wanted to be one of the cool kids when he was but a lad and had brutally tortured a young gypsy girl in ways that are best left unspoken. Rather than some lame curse of being given a soul or being made into a dormouse to laze about the days in a kettle of tea, the abominable monster was forced to listen to the hideous melody every time he called upon his most potent of magics.
It wasn't as though he didn't have a soul or any desires to lounge about in tea-fueled daydreams, quite the opposite, really. With a name such as Lord English, one can imagine that he had many aspirations to spend his days with delicious tea. As well anyone who knows anything can tell you, a proper Englishman, even a green-skinned towering abomination with cheery-red blood from another reality, does in fact have a soul, even if it's as dark as the finest blend of Earl Grey. Lord English's soul was quite dark indeed at that.
Having been called forth at the End of All Things, Lord English was a destroyer at heart. After all, what can one do when called forth for the Last Big One? Given his innate ability for time manipulation, Lord English had actually enjoyed being a major part of the destruction of everything quite a number of times. When he bored with that, he happened to spend some time in a very nice restaurant that happened to curtail expertly to those who wished to watch the universe unravel.
Despite the enjoyment of partaking in the observation of some of his finer work with exquisite cuisine, Lord English had eventually grown bored of that source of amusement. It hadn't helped that his sole companionship over dinner was a particularly paranoid android that complained of being quite bored and depressed, despite having a brain the size of a planet. Given his intense drive to destroy just about everything, Lord English hesitated at destroying the android as it was not just pointless to destroy that which had no life, but that it was even further pointless to obliterate that which had no life and had nothing going for it to speak of, save a personality drive that could send a particularly cheerful ball of sentient optimism to the bar to drink away the memories of the encounter.
Leaving the ruins of aforementioned restaurant, Lord English was departing for time and space unknown. He was intent on landing somewhere, sometime that would make a great deal more sense than manipulating all of reality against some silly trolls and children playing a rather sophomoric game. Upon hearing the infernal racket of his insipid curse come to a close, Lord English stepped out of his sarcophagus, which quickly regained form as his Cairo overcoat.
Glancing about, his ever-shifting pool ball eyes took in the dismal scene. Devoid of any obvious life, the charred rocks and ashen sky filled Lord English with a sigh of annoyance. More so, the annoyance was amplified by the slow fading din of the nightmarish song that haunted his time travel. Narrowing his eyes in concentration, the abomination fixed his gaze on a figure in the distance.
Snatching up his scepter, Lord English quickly converted it into his golden magical stave. Pushing aside wonderment of how an automatic rifle could be referred to as a magical stave, he braced himself to annihilate any creature that dared to make itself known to him. Observing it growing closer, Lord English released a hail of bullets to cut the offending figure to ribbons.
Lord English frowned in bitter disappointment. Upon closer examination, it appeared that it was redundant to kill his prey, for it was already dead. The blue hat wearing creature vaguely resembled a ghostly mix of a cat and troll, clad in a charming olive overcoat that Lord English couldn't help but feel was rather dapper. Checking his feelings, he shifted his stave back into a scepter, impatiently tapping his index finger upon the top of it while the ghost grew closer.
"I didn't know it was pawssible for a living purrson to come here," she said.
Settling his eyeballs to double 8 balls, Lord English's nonexistent eyebrow twitched. Much akin to the rest of her damnable species, this cat-like creature had an obnoxious manner of speech. Lord English debated risking the hellish song raging through his mind for the chance to kill her deeper in the time stream in some small attempt to circumvent this dreadful meeting of paths.
"Not that it matters," she sighed. Sitting down as best as a dead spirit could upon a particularly bench like slab of stone, she glanced up at him. "Purrchance you're not just another meowserable illusion, you won't stick around, just like all the rest."
Taken aback, Lord English gave the girl a cockeyed glance. Emblazoned upon her chest was the symbol of Leo, one that he searched his mind to deduce if he has killed her once or twice (or hopefully frequently) in the past. Given his instinctual obligation to snuff out all of existence without much question, it gave him quite the difficulty to remember any one specific person that he had killed.
Pushing those thoughts aside, the green-skinned horror from beyond the stars gave a second thought to his current situation. Given that he didn't yet want to re-enter the living Hell of his sarcophagus, this opportunity gave him the unique chance to actually sit and converse with something that probably wouldn't immediately implode. As a businessman of sorts, if Universe Ending God of Destruction was a proper avenue for business, if not slightly self-defeating, Lord English settled himself on taking advantage of this moment to its fullest.
"HELLO."
Looking up, the cat troll girl creature startled. "Oh! You're talking to me!"
"YES. THAT WOULD BE AN ACCURATE STATEMENT OF SORTS."
"Purrfect!" Leaping up, as best as an incorporeal entity could, the girl extended a hand, er, paw, er, thing. "My name's Nepeta! I've been so lonely ever since I got here. I haven't s33n or heard from anyone since that... that... big meanie head hurt me and my Moirail!"
"...WHAT."
"That big impurrfect jerk face did something mewserable to me in the past," Nepeta sighed. "Since then, I've been impawssibly bored here."
Glancing at his magical stave, Lord English clicked his tongue in frustration. Despite the best of wants, it wouldn't do any good to fixate on the impossibility to deposite hot lead into an incorporeal creature. Putting those thoughts off to the side, Lord English began the methodical process of contemplating the best way to dispose of such a nuisance. He had once heard of a proton pack type device that could capture such a specimen, but it left something lacking in the back of his mind, given Lord English's fancy of obliterating all sorts of different aspects of creation.
As his mind filtered through a variety of options (the least impressive of which being a stray thought to simply crush the cat-girl ghost under a giant space poptart), Nepeta did something that Lord English had not given thought to happen. She started to cry.
Taking a step back, Lord English glanced from left to right to left again as though some unheard of minion might give him aid. In its place, there was nothing aside from the wails of a crying and still deceased cat-girl. Echoing about his mind, Lord English grabbed hard at his head, more desperate to rid himself of the infernal racket even more so than the vile song that vibrated through his magical coat in the depths of time and space. Then something truly miraculous occurred as his ever-changing pool balls eyes rolled up to double threes, pausing as though the entire universe had halted on its axis.
Some say that his heart grew three sizes that day. When the tightness in Lord English's chest gradually passed, he felt an odd sense of compassion to the girl before him. It filled the diabolic entity with sincere loathing that a severe heart attack or perhaps a stroke or even a fast acting cancer had done great damage to his neurological make-up. Despite those dreadful thoughts, Lord English could not help but be overcome with great passion and sympathy for the cat-like troll.
With the slightest bit of vibration of magical timey-wimey plot convenience, Lord English placed his green clawed hand upon the blue hat upon the head of Nepeta to see all the grief that had encountered the lass. Foreign memories filtered through his mind like sand through an hourglass. Nodding in grim determination, the time-traveling demon resolved him.
Taking a step back, Lord English shifted his Cairo overcoat into the sarcophagus to transport him to his first destination. He fought back a sigh of irritation as the infernal cacophony burst into existence once again. If he could kick a puppy for each time he heard that rattle, there would be an entire star cluster of kicked puppies by this point. Lord English briefly contemplated how the ASPCA would deal with such a sight, but then realized that they must have a separate department manned by one lowly bureaucrat that simply sighed every time the fiend committed an act against animal kind, much less the rest of creation. Bursting out of his sarcophagus as it reshaped into his coat, Lord English left those thoughts to the side as he sighted what he had traveled back in time to prevent.
Streaking across the night sky was a huge meteor with a crash course set for a very specific cave. Almost rolling his ever changing billard eyes, Lord English couldn't help but feel that this task was somehow beneath him. He aimed his magic stave at the streaking celestial body, releasing a hail of bullets to tear it asunder before it could cause the first of the three great calamities to befall the fair Nepeta.
Glancing curiously out of the cave's opening, a two-mouthed large, white cat lusus peered out to see what all the ruckus was about. Comments about curiosity and the sudden death of cats aside, Lord English nodded in satisfaction at locating his first prize. Then it dawned upon the somewhat less than diplomatic demon that he didn't quite figure out a way to convince the lusus to join him.
"POUNCE DE LEON?"
The cat simply stared at him.
"I HAVE COME FROM THE FUTURE TO TAKE YOU TO NEPETA."
The cat continued to stare, but tilted her head in mild curiosity.
"...THERE WILL BE KITTY TREATS."
The cat seemed indecisive.
"THE KITTY TREATS ARE DELICIOUS."
The cat pondered for a moment as to how delicious a kitty treat from a sinister man in an overly large green felt jacket could be. Pounce de Lion debated what Nepeta would perhaps wish for him to do. It wasn't as though the mysterious man had a white van with candy written on it, so it stood to reason that his claim was legitimate.
"WILL YOU COME WITH ME?"
The cat nodded before quickly leaping into the cave. Blinking in slight confusion, Lord English followed the lusus into the cavern. The surprisingly cozy cave caught the demon by surprise almost as much as the shipping wall.
Drawn upon the surface of the wall was several images of a variety of trolls with playing card symbols between them. Debating upon the meaning of such a sight, Lord English's gaze darted to Pounce de Leon as the lusus was packing a small bag and putting on a brimmed hat and tie. It appeared he had a small deal of time to scrutinize the wall while the less than dexterous lusus struggled with packing. The pain of not having thumbs was one that Lord English stored in the back recesses of his mind for later analysis.
Coming upon one pairing on the shipping wall sent a thin thread of rage through all of Lord English's being. Drawn crudely above the statement, "oh yessssss" was Nepeta on her hands and knees for some other troll. Given that there was only one sensible response to such an image, Lord English promptly put his fist through the effigy.
Pausing in between packing, Pounce de Leon tilted her head in curiousity as Lord English discovered some paint and promptly drew his own picture upon the shipping wall. It wasn't her place to question the mysterious demon, so with a shrug, Pounce de Leon went back to packing. Given to her feline fancy, Pounce de Leon spent a good deal wondering if it would be better to pack a yarn ball or a rubber mouse for the journey. Both had their appeal, but given what she had already packed, there was clearly only room for one more object. Purring in deep thought, it dawned upon her that there was another option. The ball of yarn promptly went under the hat Pounce de Leon had placed upon her head while the mouse found its way comfortably into the bag.
Nodding in satisfaction at his work, Lord English couldn't help but feel a weird curiosity about what had possessed him to draw his own portrait hugging Nepeta with a heat above it. His lips pressed in a grim, thoughtful stare, he added two last bits of perfection to his masterpiece. The first was to circle the entire drawing in blue. The second was to write, "A CURIOUS DESTINY" below it.
Tapping the green demon's cue stick of a leg, Pounce de Leon silently announced that she was ready. Lord English gave a thought as to how traveling with a companion might function, as he had never given much thought to attempting it before. Fishing a snorkel and scuba mask out of his coat, he handed the two items to the lusus, which promptly put the device in her mouth and the mask over her eyes. Realizing how absolutely ridiculous this was, the demon from the end of the universe fished out a second snorkel to hand to Pounce de Leon. After all, one snorkel could only do so much for a creature with two mouths.
Setting off, Lord English brought Pounce de Leon into his time traveling sarcophagus. To his pleasant surprise, they both fit in quite comfortably. To his utmost displeasure, the lusus could hear the infernal cacophony that accompanied his travels through space and time. It took every bit of concentration to not simply strangle the beast as it sung along to the nyan-nyan-nyans that haunted the very core of his being.
With great relief, Lord English exited his torturous coffin into the deep reaches of space. Glancing at Pounce de Leon, he was filled with an odd sense of relief to see that the two snorkels seemed to work quite fine. To his great confusion, however, the lusus had somehow acquired pop tarts that she had set herself upon devouring. Shaking off the start to a very large migraine, Lord English set off to his second task.
The Land of Little Cubes and Tea was set for destruction very soon, marking the second great tragedy of Nepeta. Fortunately, Lord English was a skilled connoisseur of destruction and noted the one way to prevent the planet from seeing its final hour. Simply put, if it was shot to some far off quadrant, the creature that rampaged through the other troll's worlds wouldn't be able to locate the Land of Little Cubes and Tea to destroy. This suited Lord English just fine as his better British sensibilities told him that such a lovely world should be enjoyed slowly and with great reference promptly at four in the afternoon each day, preferably served with a planet of delicious tea cakes, if such a realm existed.
Taking out his scepter, Lord English set to a task that went against the very core of his being. Rather than his normal destructive demeanor, the demon extended the scepter to form a galactic-sized cue stick. Taking great care to aim, Lord English shot the planet far, far away to a place so deep in the universe that it might take even the omniscient time traveling demon some time to locate it again.
Nodding in satisfaction, Lord English took the purring Pounce de Leon, who had happily filled herself with baked pop tart treats that she had quickly heated on a nearby sun, and set off to the final stage. Glancing his head off the interior of the sarcophagus, Lord English hopped to dim out the increasingly aggravating tune of the song that hummed through his mind that the lusus took great delight in meowing along to. It still hadn't dawned upon the eternal threat to the universe's mind why he was going through such great trouble to placate some dead cat-girl, but he found himself the unwilling victim of fate as he rushed to prevent her death.
Coming out into a dark laboratory, Lord English saw the final tragedy before his eyes. Not even his powers had made it possible to arrive to prevent the death of the troll with the Sagittarius marking, which surprised him as he had thought his powers to be near limitless. Quickly taking stock of the situation, he noted Nepeta to be carelessly tossed to the ground with a troll bearing the mark of capricorn slowly making his way towards her, holding two clubs, honking annoying as he made his way with murderous intent, perhaps instigated by the three long, bleeding claw marks upon his face.
Swiftly stepping up to the side of the villain, Lord English leveled the business end of his magical stave at Gamzee's temple. Clicking to two eight balls, Lord English's eyes held calm determination to send the troll to a much less than happy place. Not that the demon believed in Hell per say, but the desire to leave a very mutilated and bullet filled corpse left a somewhat less than poetic vision that needed to be built upon with inspiration of eternal damnation for the intended murderer of his odd paramour.
"WhAt ThE mOtHeRfUcKiNg HeLl's WrOnG wItH yOu?!"
"BULLETRIDDENCORPSESAYSWHAT?" Lord English rattled off with phrase with a fangy grin.
"WhAt? …oH sHi-"
Pulling the trigger had never been more satisfying as the purple blood exploded in torrents from Gamzee's face. Seeing the corpse fly away and twitch upon the ground, Lord English released one last clip into his target, satisfied when it twitched no longer. With an odd sense of satisfaction, the accomplished demon turned to the very confused Nepeta who stared open mouthed from Gamzee to Lord English to Pounce de Leon and around again.
Then she fainted.
With but a quick time skip ahead to a convenient time that Lord English took his two prizes across the stars, the demon set to work making a fainting couch out of the only materials that he could muster up in the Land of Little Cubes and Tea. One might imagine the sheer impossibility of making furniture out of sugar, but Lord English made due. Perhaps it was due to his sheer amount of magical power or perhaps his dedication towards the young cat troll, but it was surprisingly possible to build both the fainting couch and a rather unremarkable throne to perch himself upon as he waited.
Given that Pounce de Leon was not inclined to play catch with little cubes of sugar, Lord English was left to sigh in slight boredom. His mind idly went back to that one robot he met in that restaurant so long ago in the distant future, when the stars died one by one (or billions by billions if Lord English was running late that day). That very same robot would've said something rather dark and depressing in this given situation that would've made the ancient demon want to drown it in the nearest boiling river of green tea that the planet seemed to be infested with. Rolling his ever changing billard eyes, Lord English tapped his claws rhythmically against the armrest of his sugary throne, small bits flaking off as he passed the time.
Eons seemed to pass until Nepeta slowly roused herself. Glancing around, she blinked in confusion of her surroundings. Jumping up with a start, she started pointing wildly around as though she might be having some sort of seizure. This initially concerned Lord English, but her rapid banter quickly put the thoughts of need for immediate medical attention out of mind.
"This is so impawssible! Pounce de Leon vanished meowraculously a long time ago! And so did the Land of Little Cubes and Tea! And... and... I've s33n you before on my shipping wall! The purrfectly weird drawing shipping me with someone I've never seen before!"
Standing up from the throne, clutching his scepter in hand, Lord English bowed formally towards the rapidly talking cat troll. Raising his billard eyes up to her, he noticed a faint blush upon her cheeks. Whether from embarrassment or surprise, the demon could not quite determine.
"MY NAME IS LORD ENGLISH, A DENIZEN FROM A TIME FAR BEYOND YOUR LIFE'S END. I'VE SOUGHT TO RESTORE THINGS TO YOU THAT WOULD HAVE OTHERWISE BEEN LOST."
"What about my moirall?" Nepeta's eyes were filled with tears.
Shifting numbers back and forth as his gaze swept the landscape, Lord English was without proper response.
"IT WAS HIM OR THE LUSUS, I SUPPOSE."
"Oh," Nepeta answered, kicking a rock-sized cube of sugar as she slowly composed herself.
Meowing, Pounce de Leon hopped over to Nepeta and started rubbing against her, purring loudly. Nepeta slowly wiped away a stray tear as she hugged her lusus tightly. Despite the recent tragedy, there was an odd warmth in Nepeta's heart. After all, this strange man had apparently done quite a bit, and he was even on her shipping wall. That alone meant that he must be destined for her.
Smiling as friendly as the eldritch evil could, Lord English started to let his own dark heart warm more freely towards the girl he had uncharacteristically saved from a dismal fate. Reaching to take her hand into his own, he bent on his good knee to breathe a kiss formally upon the back of her palm. Nepeta seemed taken aback as this simple gesture appeared to usher in a new age for her as the sun began to set behind the giant sugary mountains. She was complete at last with the best shipping her wall could offer her.