A/N: So I wrote a story.
Yaaaay.
Oh, and Jack kills people.
Nooooo.
Disclaimer: Well, aren't you lucky I don't own RotG. I might have ruined your childhoods, as well as the movie. (Also, cover image is in the public domain, as it is a drawing by Gustave Dore.)
"The Dog was wild, and the Horse was wild, and the Cow was wild, and the Sheep was wild, and the Pig was wild—as wild as wild could be—and they walked in the Wet Wild Woods by their wild lones. But the wildest of all the wild animals was the Cat. He walked by himself, and all places were alike to him."-Extract from "Just So Stories" by Rudyard Kipling
Demon
Cursed child
Changeling
Menace
...
Soul-stealer
He was not like the others.
The white-haired teen gazed at the Groundhog meditatively, not registering the harsh words tumbling from the rodent's mouth. He had eyes only for the glowing mist of blue-green phosphorescence surrounding the overgrown rat's chest, that swirled and pulsed in time with the rapid beating of the Groundhog's heart.
He had learned a long time ago, at the cost of much jeering at his expense, that he was the only one who could see this translucent fog. Others only saw the dull-looking person beneath the churning mass of colorful soul.
What boring lives they must lead, he thought.
Strange, that such a vague, ephemeral-looking thing should hold such an important role. It would be easy to take it. The frost child cocked his head to one side as he pondered this possibility. It would be horribly simple to separate the body and the soul, and to claim the latter for himself. His mouth watered at the thought.
Later, he decided. He was not hungry now. To steal the rodent's soul now would simply be a waste of time-
"Hey, kid, are you listening to me?"
He blinked and looked up from the whirling turquoise mass into the hard brown eyes of the Groundhog. He arched one black eyebrow. "Oh, pardon me, were you saying something important?"
The resulting punch to the face should have been expected, yet Jack couldn't help but feel mildly affronted. He gingerly touched the darkening area around his right eye, curious, before turning a bright, innocent gaze on the rodent. He bared his teeth in a feral smile, eyes sharp and dangerous.
"Rule number one, Tawney: never punch a cat sidhe."
The Groundhog stumbled back, eyes widened in horrified realization, but by that time it was too late. A sharp icy dagger buried itself in his furry throat, severing the jugular vein. He collapsed to the ground, spewing blood from his neck, his scream nothing more than a harsh gurgle.
Swiftly, efficiently, the cat sidhe placed his free hand over the dying spirit's chest as he began chanting deliriously in a high voice. The turquoise mist stuttered, faded, then drifted away entirely from its host, where the soul stealer caught it nimbly between his fingertips. He placed his soul-burdened hand on his heart, blue eyes flashing amber as the haze phased into his chest.
For the briefest of moments, he had a soul.
In the end, he decided not to bury the body.
A/N: Cat sidhes are creatures from Celtic mythology. They're basically black cats who steal the souls of corpses before said souls can go to the afterlife. Fear the cats, people, fear the cats.
Also, migod this is short. Although I guess that's good. The less we get to see of Jack killing people, the better, eh?
...Just you wait until the Guardians find out.
I'm done.
...Review?