New story to get me back into writing fics again. Since its been so long. I do promise that I'll write/update some of my other stories soon. I hope.

So, I haven't wrote from the perspective of Victoria for a while, so this is going to be about her. The little white kitty.

Disclaimer: I don't own CATS. Nor will I ever do. All characters, aside OC's, are owned by Andrew Lloyd Webber and RUG.


A cat as white as snow. She caught the attention of the elders from a young age, when she was abandoned on the rail side. To be found by the ginger tabby known as Skimbleshanks. From an early age she showed signs of being a gifted young kitten in dance. So much so, that she was chosen on those nights that the junkyard had parties. She was chosen to dance elegantly with another kitten.

But many just took the whiteness of her fur to be a sign of pureness. The everlasting cat himself made her as pure as the white snow that came every winter. There minds easily found no harm in her.

The young white cat simply laid upon the roof of the old car, her eyes fixated on the bright half moon up in the sky. Time was running out. It had flown by. And yet, the date was clear. Soon she would have to disappoint. Wait, worse than that. A soft sighed parted her lips as she nestled her head done into her arms. Her blue eyes still gazing up.

Without much, the white kitten had fallen into her deep slumber. A soft pillow of whiteness shining through the midnight air. But as peaceful as it was, a feeling of dread hung through the atmosphere. Something wasn't right. Not this night. A blink of yellow eyes sneaked through the bits of junk, a thin reddened image sliding his way in and out of cracks towards the white kitten. The whole junkyard was asleep, and he wasn't gong to wake them. There was no need.

The red, uncombed cat hung over Victoria. His eyes filled with soft glare, as though he cared but not enough. He leaned down, a sharp claw lightly tracing her perfect white cheek.

"Soon you will come home a success." He voice rasped gently into her ear before a cloud of smoke appeared around him, taking him away in the night. Of course, Victoria didn't so much of shuddered. As though her body was used to the magic being performed around her. Her mind kept repeating what he said. A dream forming in her sleeping mind.

A misty, blurred silhouette of a cat appeared. A black and white tux. In her mind, the tuxedo played around with a ball of yarn they shared. A smile on his petite face as he played with her. She could hear herself laughing, but yet her laugh continued when the tux's face frowned. The sky around them turning dark.

"Victoria.." He spoke with a quiet voice, holding his arm out for her. But she didn't come. Frozen in fear. Her body unable to move, her eyes unable to close. The darkened sky turned a dark shade of red as the Napoleon of Crime stalked towards her brother. Her eyes watered as the brutal attack was set in stage. She was the audience, and they were the actors. Finally, her eyes closed. Small breathing coming from her brother forced her to open them. She had to make sure he was alright.. Her blue eyes stared at him, the Napoleon still standing over him. Her dream became blurry once more as the last sight she had was her brother's bloodied white fur and scarred black fur.


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