Chapter One
Malfunctions
Rain poured heavily over the junkyard. It made a smacking sound against the ground and created a chill in the air. In an old shed, known as the 'kitten's den', several Jellicle kittens layed about. They were used to playing around all day and night, but the dark rain clouds crawling across the sky prevented them from doing so. So now the kittens swished their tails in boredom, yowling all the while.
At this time, a sleek, black tuxedo cat was slinking through the junkyard by means of the few tunnels that the Jellicles had formed. He enjoyed strolling about the yard, and personally didn't mind the rain. It was also now that this cat heard the yowling of kittens.
Mr. Mistoffelees came upon the kittens, and pretended to put on a face of shock. "Do you young ones still not know how to entertain yourselves?"
The kittens sat up, turning their gazes to Mistoffelees. "But there's nothing to do!" they whined piteously.
The tuxedo cat just shook his head. "And don't tell me this is just because of the rain!"
The young kittens nodded guiltily, which made Mistoffelees chuckle a bit.
"But the rain gives us such wonderful things," he told them, scooping up a bit of mud from outside the shed. He waved his paw over the mud. "It makes the flowers we enjoy sniffing in the spring rise from the ground." As the said this, a beautiful flower began to rise from the splotch of mud. The kits gasped in awe and wonder. Mistoffelees laughed and handed the flower to one of the female kittens.
"And my most favorite thing that the rain gives us," he whispered. "is a world of color." He swiped a few fat drops of rain into his paw, and blew across the water, which sent a stream-like ribbon of rainbow out of his paws.
The kittens clapped in delight, and their eyes shone with happines. Mistoffelees grinned and directed the stream with his paws. He made it slither between the kittens, who in turn started to chase it. But then something peculiar began to happen. Mistoffelees began to notice that the edges of the stream of color were fading to a muddy brown. The magician frowned and tried to get it to turn brighter, but instead the stream flashed and turned even muddier. The kittens noticed this, and soon became still and silent.
Mistoffelees, feeling embarrassed, sent the stream back outside where it now ceased to rain. He looked at the confused faces of the kittens and shrugged, for he was as confused as they were.
"Well, I think I should get going..." he began to say, when he heard someone cry out his name. "I really should get going. Have a lovely afternoon," he told the kittens as he leapt out into the yard.
The yelling became more persistant, and Mistoffelees was about to turn the opposite direction when he saw that the cat that was calling him was Rum Tum Tugger. The troublesome cat was lying on his back, looking rather uncomfortable. He had a frown set on his furry features and he was gazing lazily at Mistoffelees.
"It took you long enough to get here," the cat complained loudly. "I must have been here for minutes!"
"What a poor cat," Mistoffelees retorted. "Such a whiny Jellicle," he added under his breath.
"Are you going to help me or not?" Tugger snapped. "Or are you going to keep mumbling to yourself?"
Mistoffelees rolled his eyes and padded over to him. "What's the problem?"
"Well, I was resting, you know, getting some beauty sleep-"
"In the rain?" Mistoffelees exclaimed.
Tugger shot daggers at him. After a few moments, he continued. "I was relaxing, when a cinderblock fell off the top of this pile and landed on my tale." He showed off a small gash on his tail.
"It looks like it can just heal perfectly well on its own," Mistoffelees commented.
Tugger snorted. "Why do that when there's Mr. Mistoffelees around?" Tugger laughed. Mistoffelees did not share his amusement. Instead he just groaned.
"Fine I'll heal it. Even though it's merely a scratch," Mistoffelees agreed. He held his paws over the wound, and gold flecks danced between his fingers. He ran them up and down the wound, concentrating very hard. He didn't want to make a mistake with a wound, since he had somehow failed a simple magic trick earlier.
The wound began to close up quite well, and Mistoffelees became hopeful. Maybe there wasn't any problem after all, he thought to himself. Then a yowl came from Tugger and Mistoffelees saw that the flecks had become sparks that were spontaneously bouncing around and that the wound was opening again.
"Stop it!" Tugger cried out.
Mistoffelees stepped back, and Tugger looked at him with a strange look.
"If you really wanted me to just let it heal on its own, then you should have said so!" he stated. "You didn't have to try to kill me," he added dramatically.
Mistoffelees was silent, and just shook his head. "I'm sorry Tugger," he said almost inaudibly. Without waiting for a response, Mistoffelees ran off. Something was terribly wrong with his magic, and he needed to adress it.
Bustopher Jones sat in his den, pampering himself. He groomed his coat very carefully and slowly. He had to look good for everyone, and he was a gentleman. He only looked up from his work when he heard Mistoffelees enter.
"Hello," he greeted him, pausing in his work. "Why are you hear so early? You're usually strolling around the junkyard. Is everything alright?"
Mistoffelees kneeled at the large cat's feet and sighed. "Father, I have discovered something frightening." He closed his eyes and whispered, "My powers are failing."
Bustopher gave him a look of surprise. "That certainly is frightening." He cleared his throat, and added, "I believe that a meeting with Deuteronomy is in order."
Mistoffelees nodded, and stood to help Bustopher out of the den. His mind couldn't help but wander as they traveled to the den of Old Deuteronomy. What if his powers vanished completely? What if he would never be able to perform magic again?
Old Deuteronomy was look up at the sky when the father and son arrived. He seemed to be studying it with a pleasant curiosity. Bustopher stated his prescence with a loud cough. The gentle, old cat smiled upon them and beckoned for them to enter.
"Greetings, Bustopher, and hello to you to, Mistoffelees. How fare both of you today?"
"That is why we are here, actually," Bustopher replied. "You see, something is happening to Mistoffelees."
"And what could that be?" Deuteronomy questioned with concerned.
"Sir, my...my magic is fading away."
Deuteronomy was silent. A calm, serious look was spread across his wrinkled face. "Is it guidance you seek?" he asked the young tom.
Mistoffelees nodded, and Deutoeronomy frowned.
"Quaxo, I cannot help you," the cat said simply.
Bustopher and Mistoffelees stared at him with disbelief. "But you're the wisest cat around!" Bustopher boomed. "Can you not do anything?"
The old cat shook his head. "I am not an expert in the arts of illusion and mystery. I'm very sorry."
Mistoffelees was about to say something, but Deuteronomy turned to Bustopher and said to him, "It's time you tell your...son the truth."
"But we've kept it for this long!" Bustopher complained.
Deuteronomy gave him a stern expression. "The truth may be the only thing that can help him."
Mistoffelees, now confused, turned to look at his father. "What is it that you need to tell me?"
"I'll leave you two to talk," Deuteronomy said, padding away.
Bustopher and Mistoffelees stood their in silence. Finally, the large cat said, "You've always known me as your father, correct?"
Mistoffelees nodded. "Of course. You're my father: you always were and you always will be."
Bustopher shook his head sadly. "Mistoffelees, I've raised you as my own. I taught you the ways of being a gentleman, and to be a proper Jellicle cat. But I've been keeping something from you for a very long time."
Mistoffelees looked at him expectantly, waiting for the point.
"Mistoffelees, I'm not your real father as I've lead to you believe." The tom reached out to put his arm around his 'son', but Mistoffelees shrunk away. He tried to say something, but the words couldn't come out. Instead he turned away from Bustopher.
"Mistoffelees, I know this is hard, but-"
"Who's my real father?"
"Pardon me?"
Mistoffelees turned back towards him. "Who is my father?" he interrogated, a firm look upon his face, masking the confusion and hurt that he was feeling.
"You're not going to like this," Bustopher told him, trying to put the question aside, but this did not work.
"I deserve to know who my father is, since you've lied to me since I was a kitten," Mistoffelees pressed.
Bustopher looked deep into Mistoffelees' eyes, "Your father is Macavity."
