AN: Rewritten chapter 1, which is hopefully a bit better. I wanted to better establish characters before proceeding onto chapter two. Anyhow, enjoy!
CHAPTER 1
The Hunt
There was a tantalizing aroma hanging in the night air, powerful enough to rid the gaseous stench of the air balloon she had previously occupied. It was warm too, juicy, a smell so delicious it made drool drip from her overhanging canine tooth. She was getting close then. Very close. Her quarry was just around the corner, at the Butcher's Palace, a two-story brick-worked piece of magnificent architecture filled with decadent meats of all sorts, both raw and cooked. It was sure to appease the varying tastes of the Family. She licked her lips expectantly.
So far, the hunt was going smoothly, as dinner patrols often did when the cops were too busy stuffing their faces with over-the-top meals to deal with the "petty O'Leary gang". It was a simple three-cat operation: one to lead the hunt, the getaway, and the assistant. As a sort of assessment, thirteen-year-old Scarlet was put in charge this time. She called the shots. If the patrol failed and the operation collapsed, she would be the one blamed. If Pops did not approve of the prey brought home, he'd blame Scarlet. And if she were blamed in either case, she would be brought back down to Runner, a slave to those older than her, which was - in fact - everyone.
She wasn't about to let that happen.
"Remember, Hybrid," Crow, the acting assistant and her assessor, stood close to her side, his breath trickling down the bare parts of her neck. "This patrol means everything. If ya do well enough, ya'll be saved. If ya fail, it'll break ya."
Scarlet nodded to the older cat, unable to make any other kind of response as their prey came into sight. Luckily, though predictably, there was no one in sight, many of the yellow-bellied dogs out eating at a fancy restaurant or dancing in some odd ball room. A few cops loomed farther down the street, but with their poor eyesight they were too far away to see the black-cloaked thieves. In front of them was the Butcher's Palace.
Scarlet pointed two fingers towards the ground floor, and flicked them upwards toward a second story window. Crow raised an eyebrow, though he didn't question the act of pillaging two floors verbally; he didn't have the right. She jabbed her thumb towards the right side of the complex. A nod, a silent agreement to the choice of the getaway meeting place. With a snap of her clawed fingers, the two cats moved on, fast as lightning, with Crow using his agility and strength to scale the wall towards the previously indicated second floor window and Scarlet using her lockpicks to enter through the front door. Silently, skillfully, she was inside within seconds.
The bottom floor contained most of the cooked meats, concealed in the room behind the main counter. It was where most of the warm scents she'd detected came from, and it appealed to both the cat side of her and the human side. Quickly, the hybrid leapt over the counter-top with ease and - cloth sack in hand - she opened the door to the back room and immediately started shoving delicious food into her pack
After a short time, her sack was filled with mouthwatering grub, so much so it threatened to unbalance her and send her crashing to the floor. Noise from upstairs caught her attention, and soon Crow came into sight, his strong arms carrying two sacks of raw meat. He flung both over one shoulder, nodding curtly to Scarlet. She lead the way to a locked window and - handing the sack to Crow - opened it with practiced ease. When they both crept through and reached the outside, the getaway - Scourge - was waiting, his fluffy white face visible from down the street. He had a large wooden wagon behind him and was tapping his foot impatiently against the stone-worked road, obviously upset to have been put on getaway duty.
Now out of the shop, both Crow and Scarlet bolted toward the wagon, throwing their prey into the wagon and covering it with a thick, tattered green blanket. Without blinking an eye, they pulled down their hoods and unmasked their faces. Now, they looked just like any other law-abiding cat citizen.
"Not bad, Scar," Scourge purred warmly, his long tail flicking her shoulder. "Only a few seconds off from ya set time." Scarlet smirked, punching him lightly on the arm in a playful gesture, pointed, fur-tufted human ears twitching and silver-colored eyes glimmering with suppressed laughter.
"Better than you on your first lead hunt!" The response she received came not from her friend, but from Crow, and his response was to cuff her over the head with a massive grey paw.
"Remember kittens," the grumpy cat snarled, "we don't talk 'bout hunting when on the streets. Some stray puppy might hear us, then we'll be sent to the Cage." He glared pointedly at Scourge. "You wouldn't want to be sent there again, now would you?"
"Oh c'mon, Crow! Ya know there aren't any puppies 'round here this time of night. They're too busy stuffin' their maws!" The white tomcat waved his paw dismissively, a cheeky grin plastered on his face as he winked at Scarlet. While the younger she-cat was tempted to agree, she kept her jaws clamped shut. What Crow had said was true; if there were any puppies around and they heard them, the operation would most definitely be a failure, and that was a risk she couldn't take, not now.
The elder tom seemed to have the same thought as he didn't respond to Scourge, instead grabbing the handles of the wagon and beginning to steer it towards the O'Leary hideout, his gray face as glum and expressionless as ever. Scourge smirked and winked at Scarlet before wrapping an arm around her shoulders and following the elder tom.
"Scourge?" Scarlet asked quietly as she wrapped an arm around his waist. He looked down inquisitively at the younger girl.
"Yeah Scar?"
"What's the Cage like?" She had heard stories of prison of course, as every member of the O'Leary member has been there, either imitating as guests or serving their own time. They were never descriptive with their stories though, never imaginative. It might have been his youth, being the second youngest O'Leary at the age of sixteen, but Scourge's stories always had the ability to make even a single grain of sand look like the most interesting and beautiful thing in the world.
Scourge tapped a long claw against his chin in a nonchalant act of thought. "Well my dear Scarlet, it's just as the stories say it is. It's like a heap o' dung with a side of stale bread." He looked at Scarlet through sparkling amber eyes, all play and mischief as Scarlet narrowed her eyes, her lips pulled back in a playful snarl. She jabbed her elbow lightly into his rib-cage. Scourge purred before looking back at the street, particularly at Crow's decidedly too-broad back as it started to shrink in the distance.
"Well, dear, there's a lot o' metal, bars which barricade the way to freedom, with whatever light that is around interrupted. Never solid. All tiny lil' streams of sparkling yellow-white shine. There ain't no bed, just cold, flat steel, but we Family folk are used to that, now aren't we? And the food ain't that good, but that don't matter to us 'long as we get some meat. Them puppies know that. It's why we ain't there too long. The real menace o' the Cage though, the reason why big boys like Crow hate it so much…" He stared up at the sky, eyes reflecting the moon and stars, "is the barricade from freedom. Yes, Scar, it's them bars that make the cage a place ya don't want to be."
Scarlet stared intently at the ground as the two friends walked down the street, her mind already having imagined up the cage, what it was like to be holed up in a single place, a place where to do your own thing was a thing of memory. A shiver coursed through her body. Cats are meant ta be free…
"Kitties!" Crow's loud, booming voice shook both of them from their thoughts, Scarlet from her imagination and Scourge from his memories. "Get your lazy-hide tail-ends up here 'fore I stuff you in the wagon!" The two exchanged an amused glance, used to the old toms irritable ways, before running to catch up with their superior. At first Scarlet wondered why Crow had called to them with such urgency; he didn't ever feel particularly irritated by his kin lagging behind, not to the point of shouting at them, but as they neared the corner Crow was at she immediately understood. Two police dogs - one a tall, shaggy, skinny grey mutt and the other a fat Beagle - had approached Crow, no doubt interrogating the previously lone cat with a mysteriously covered wagon.
As the two came and stood at Crow's side, Crow turned back to the officers, smiling his signature half-smile, playing off his innocence as good as a newborn kitten. "See, officers? These two are my kittens. We were just returning from a business trip o' mine from Knight's Court. This here," he shoved Scourge up, "is my son, Samson. And this lovely lady," then it was Scarlet, "is me daughter, Emmaline. They were helpin' me load up some stuff."
The two officers exchanged a glance, as if not fully convinced. Finally, the Beagle turned toward Crow. "And just what is it that you have, cat?"
"Clothes, my dear sir." He patted the blanket covering the meat lightly, and to the untrained ear it certainly sounded like it was just a pile of cloth underneath it. Still, the two cops didn't look convinced. When Scarlet thought her chances of success would be shattered by them unveiling their stolen grub, Crow stood at his full length. Despite his old age, the tom was a massive cat, and when he stood with his back straight he was easily a full two heads taller than the skinny grey mutt at 6'11", not to mention far more massive in terms of muscular bulk. The officers instinctively took a step back, mud-brown eyes wide.
"Now officers," Crow purred almost threateningly. "I really must get going. The kitties need to eat. Or would you rather take this up to my superior? I'm sure he'll greatly appreciate the trouble ye'll cause 'em."
Fortunately, the mutt dog dipped his head. "Of course, sir. Sorry for troubling you. Have a good night." With that, the two dogs made their way down the road. Scarlet caught them on more than one occasion glancing back at them, or rather her, as if questioning why they didn't bother to question Crow why she was more human than what Scourge was. Scarlet forced herself not to look back at them, instead grabbing onto Crow's meaty arm and walking alongside him down the adjacent road.
Once out of sight of the officers, Crow batted her harshly on the back of the head for the second time that day. Smokey, heather-blue eyes met silver ones. "You're lucky I bailed you out of that one, kitten."
"C'mon Crow, give her a break," Scourge came around and patted Crow's back. "It's her first lead mission. What would she be able ta do wit' them cops?"
"Pull off a pouty face." Despite his anger, he ruffled Scarlet's hair affectionately before proceeding down the street.
Pops O'Leary sat on top of a crate, going through the pillaged sacks of meat and examining each piece with careful, pale yellow eyes, looking for any flaw, any blemish, anything that might hinder Scarlet's chances of getting promoted as to prevent her from leading more hunts. Sweat visibly glistened on the areas where her pale skin was visible, a sheen which reflected the yellow lamplight around her. Scourge and Crow stood at her sides, with the latter resting a comforting hand on her shoulder. Crow, after some amount of time passed, even patted her back a few times, an odd gesture of comfort from him.
Finally, Pops looked up. "This won't do."
Scarlet's jaw dropped open. "What?"
"You heard me, hybrid."
"But...but why?" He hadn't even asked Crow how she did on the hunt! Pops jumped down from the crate he sat on, striding over and glaring down at her.
"You're too young to be ranked up, girl." Too young… the words hardly seemed to process in her mind. Too young...Too young!
"So why'd'ya send me anyways if I'm too damn young?" Her vision blurred with her rage, and she grew deaf to any response she might have received as her blood roared in her ears. She swung a fisted hand at Pop's muzzle, her claws partially digging into her own flesh, blood pooling at the small puncture marks. She was oblivious to the pain, only aware of the fury that clung to her pelt like moss to rock, a fury in which she often confided in when things that were so perfect - oh so perfect - were denied her. Before her fist could meet its target, however, two strong arms wrapped around her stomach and waist, easily lifting her off the ground. She kicked wildly, her feet connecting with walls and crates as she was carried out of Pop's "office".
Crow dumped the struggling body outside, glaring down at her with sharp eyes alight with warning before he proceeded back into warehouse. A moment later, Scourge came out, leaning up against a crate with his arms crossed. He waited a few moments, amber eyes watching as Scarlet gradually, ever so gradually, began to calm down, though a flare of hatred remained in those silver-gray eyes of hers.
"Don't think that helped ya, doll." He said after a few moments. Scarlet glared at him, getting to her feet, but said nothing in reply as she jumped up onto a large crate to stare out at the cityscape below. Scourge, after a moment of hesitance, leapt up to join her. The lights were dazzling arrays of yellows and oranges, reflecting off puddles from the rainfall that occurred the previous night.
"Damn Pops is a fool." Scarlet snarled, eyes narrowed into a glare. Scourge wrapped an arm around her shoulders for a brief moment, claws running through patchy black fur before he removed his paw.
"I know, Scar, but not much ya can do 'bout it, n' I'm sure your outburst didn't help at all." Upon her crestfallen look Scourge added, "I'm sure Crow will vouch for ya and get things straight. He always does."
"With everythin' but Pops."
"C'mon Scar…" Scourge moved in once again to comfort his friend, but she shifted away from his arm before standing up onto the rooftop edge. She glared back at him.
"Face it, Scourge, the hunt was a fail." With that, she leaped off from the rooftop onto another, and Scourge watched with sad amber eyes as she jumped one way and another until her feet connected to the soaked street below.