Cat and Mouse

Cecelia and Mickey return to Wasteland to find it under siege yet again. Earthquakes threaten to tear the regions apart, creatures called Blotworx are attacking, and The Guardian Pools are drying up. The Mad Doctor has returned, claiming to want to fix what he tried to destroy. Oswald believes him. Cecelia refuses to. But she can't worry about him now. Not when Prescott keeps avoiding her.

xxx

Wasteland Beckons Again

Alright folks! Here it is! Sorry it took so long. Work was getting in the way.

Tell me what you think?

The summary is a work in progress.

xxx

A leather wrapped journal flutters open, Not so long ago, I was sucked into a world my grandfather, Master Yensid, created. A world made for the Toons long forgotten by the world.

Circling down a vortex of a drain, another world of happy, smiling people blossomed. Cartoon characters once on the drawing board now lost on distant memories. These forgotten beings were subjected to cruel experimentations conducted by a man known as The Mad Doctor. Thunder and lightning clashing - The Mad Doctor cackling malevolently. Allied to him was a THING beyond mortal comprehension. A being so devilish and cruel that calling him a monster wouldn't come close to justice. The Phantom Blot. The Blot whirled around with folded arms, towering behind the cackling Doctor like a shadow. Through the use of a device he named The Terror Box, The Mad Doctor swept a commanding finger forward, The Mad Doctor plunged into the darkest recesses of my most horrid of nightmares, The People of wasteland only ran so far. The Blot fingers changed to wires, connecting to the skulls of the fleeing people, and siphoned them energy for The Blot. The Blot's body and power grow. Together, these two villains decimated Wasteland. Absolute Terror was the weapon they used to cause their mass chaos.

Using the abject fears and nightmares of the people, The Mad Doctor imbued The Blot with new power, rejuvenating him to his former glory. The Blot starting out as nothing more than a stain on a table, evolving into a Nightmare King of epic proportions. The more this monster fed, the more powerful he grew. All but impervious to the effects of paint and thinner. Paint and thinner splashed to the monster, only to be wiped off and thrown back. The Blot became hungry for power. Craved nothing more than the terrors of the people. Green drips of terror liquified spilling down the gorging monster's jaw. But he wished for more than just terror. He wanted a power not even Wasteland's Guardians themselves could rival. A Power that would make him the most feared being in all of Wasteland. My power. Crimson red eyes shot open in a glare. Cecelia in her young cat form, wielding a ball of phenomenal energy in her palm. My magic. The Blot snatched Cecelia in his grasp, taking her magic and putting her under his control. With it, he sundered Wasteland and nearly destroyed it and everyone within in a matter of hours. He threw Cecelia aside, ensnaring all of Wasteland in thorns and flooding the terrains with Blotlings. Cecelia, in his thrall, brought on a hailstorm to those who opposed him. And he would have succeeded. Were it not for a Lucky Rabbit, Oswald zipping through the skies with his remote, striking the enemy down with high voltage, a Mischievous Mouse, Mickey emerging from the mirror, splashing thinner and paint left to right, a Grouchy Gremlin, Prescott turning his nose up haughtily, casting enemies away with his glove, and a gaggle of friends. Ortensia and Gus waved gleefully while standing their ground against the Blotlings.

When I first entered Wasteland, I wanted nothing more than to help destroy The Blot. The burns at her temples infuriated her. The thing that dragged me into that world and hurt my grandfather in the process. Cecelia clawing to escape the demonic hand dragging her in, swatting Yensid away as he tried to save her. But...as my magic started to grow, and more and more was revealed about me, my sole purpose became to return home. To return to my grandfather - the one person who accepted me for my 'condition.' Cecelia driven to madness, consuming The Doctor and Blot in flames. Prescott and the others saw what she is capable of, and so she ran.

What a fool I was to keep these kind hearted, compassionate people at arm's length. The smiling faces of Mickey, Oswald, Gus, Ortensia, and Prescott. Never did I come close to imagining I would be so lucky to meet people who aren't afraid of what I can do. Those smiling faces herding to her, wrapping her in warm hugs. Or find love in someone so...irritable, depressed, and every version of sarcastic. Cecelia and Prescott sitting on cliff while holding hands, twisted away from each other in stubbornness.

So many challenges and choices. It became hard to discern if the challenges swayed our choices or if our choices created the challenges. Mickey and Oswald panicking to solve riddles set by The Blot. Cecelia trapped in the castle, debating on whether or not to use her magic. Prescott, Ortensia, and Gus struggling to hold their own in the face of great odds. The road to victory was fraught with obstacles. Personal and mission oriented. Prescott and Cecelia arguing like cats and dogs. Oswald and the others shaking their heads. The Blot and Doctor pushed us all to our physical, emotional, and mental limits. He turned us against one another, A Blot controlled Cecelia standing on an unconscious Mickey and Oswald, watched us to squirm as he toyed with us and our friends, Ortensia and Prescott helpless at Horace and Clarabelle being held captive, and drove us to our limits, Gus and Ortensia on their hands and knees, completely lost of breath, when he discovered the nightmares we try to mask. A fire, and ethereal needles controlled by Cecelia. Mickey spending every ounce of paint and thinner. Oswald coming close to breaking his ears and remote.

We weren't deterred. Even when we were kicked while down, we rose to new heights to combat our enemies. Thanks to my friends, I unleashed my magic with confidence and was able to defeat The Blot, and break a curse placed upon me years ago. Cecelia's young and youthful cat form evolved into a fully grown young adult. Fires she conjured rivaled those smoldering in Hell. Prescott, the grumpy old gremlin - I owe him my life. The battle of good and evil spent every last ounce of strength I had. Her heart rose to the clouds, bursting and covering Wasteland. Death had me in it's grips. Then Prescott...Prescott kissed Cecelia. Her heart emerged within him and was returned, bringing her back to life. I couldn't have beared through any of it without him. I cannot wait to see him again.

The Mad Doctor escaped during the madness. If I know him, he'll return with a new scheme. Let him. No matter what he tries, Mickey, Oswald, Prescott, Ortensia, Gus, and I will be there to stop him again. Until then, I have chores to finish.

xxx

Dear Cecelia,

I will be in the celestial gardens gathering herbs. Have the workshop cleaned by the time I return.

Remember: NO MAGIC! Either it is spotless, or suspend your magic broom privileges.

Sincerely,

Your Loving Grandfather.

"Loving grandfather, my ass!"

A thick bristled scrub brush was dunked inside soap water. Grim and filth clinging to the brush tainted the bubbles. The brush was ground in rapid circles to a stubborn stain on the stone floors of Yensid's workshop. Exposed legs in folding shorts were red raw from rubbing in the soapy moisture and rough stone. A loose white shirt was drenched. The folded cuffs the worst of the wear. Yellow gloves tearing. High top black and red shoes drenched. And the sweat clinging the white locks of tied back hair sticking to the forehead.

Three hours and counting. The thick scent of cleaning supplies was ripe in the air. Crimson eyes were watering under their mercy. But well worth it when the brush was able to be thrown into the bucket with a victorious splash.

"YEE-HAW! DONE!" The yellow gloves were thrown in a trash bin, and the flamboyant cheers of Cecelia shook the old walls. That dust better not ruin her floors. Yensid forbid her from using any magic - not even the brooms - to clean up the mess she made. What a chore!

"Phew…" Cecelia ran her arm across her sweaty brow. "Finally! Doubt Grandpa will find a cleaner home." She admired her shimmering work from the floor. She was too exhausted to stand quite yet. The mantel piece, the table, vases and pots, Yensid's work tools - nothing within that room wasn't dazzling. The workshop was the cleanest it had ever been in the last couple of years. The pile of dirt stained towels in a corner will testify to her diligence. "I sure hope that will be the case. I don't think I can take much more of this." The cause behind her diligent cleaning in the result of her being punished. Cecelia was playing with an advanced spell she stumbled upon while reading one of Yensid's books. Needless to say, it - literally - blew up in her face, into the ceiling, on the floors, and even in the sink. To say Yensid was furious would be similar to calling an erupting volcano a POP of an earthly zit. Chernabog himself would have run in terror.

It been a little over a year since Wasteland was saved. Readjusting to home-life was a bit on the arduous side for Cecelia. She did, after all, return a different person from when she left. Before her journey through Wasteland, she had kept herself in a dank isolation. Barriers she placed around her heart and body forbade anyone from coming closer than 100 yards. Possibly further. Betrayal and hurt were an unbreakable chain, leashing to the bottomless abyss of her of sorrows. She never left Yensid's Tower. Fully convinced she was as happy as can be locking herself within those walls. It was easier than approaching others, and being despised for what she was. How foolish she was.

Traveling with Mickey, Oswald, Gus, Ortensia, and Prescott was the best experience of her life. The laughs, the arguments, and the randomness that ensued whenever they were together. Even when she was a stranger, they welcomed her with open arms, allowing her help in ridding their land of The Blot. Well, not Prescott at first. Not that she was surprised. He is a right arrogant grouch on his good days. But later...Cecelia couldn't imagine the journey without him by her side. He and the others helped her to chisel away at her walls. To allow them closer to her. The ice around her heart gradually melted. Soon she created a bond she cherished more than all the magic in universe. She created a family amongst them. Something she hasn't had in quite some time. Save for her grandfather.

After her reunion with her father, a weight that trapped her in a constricting vice was shed. For the first time in years, closure was hers and the wounds in her heart started to heal themselves. Granted, seeing her father after so long opened new ones. However, releasing him from the mental oblivion barring him from remembering Cecelia or Myra cleansed her of the rancor she harbored. Doing this allowed her to truly move on with her life and begin anew with Yensid.

Too bad Prescott doesn't have a heart. In the physical sense. Emotionally...well...his heart belongs to her. And vice versa. She knows he'd love it in her world. Maybe. He is stingy, and sets ridiculous standards. But she thinks she might be able to get him to like it. Who knows? Maybe she'll find a spell that can help him leave Wasteland. If not for a day or two. Then they both can live in each other's worlds happily.

"Prescott..." She blushed, stroking the communicator pin he let her keep, "I wonder how you're doing."

She and Prescott have conversed through the magic mirrors, idly chatting about daily life, and the progress they've made in science and magic. Their conversations would last four hours, well into the next day. Gus and Yensid have thoroughly scolded them both. They never learned. They'd do it again the next day. Their own private rendezvous. Prescott often asked for Cecelia to return to Wasteland so they can spend time with one another. And she has a few times. Prescott's taken her to different locations for their dates. Tortooga, Tomorrow City, Ventureland - everywhere they've been before, he discovered a new spot for them to be alone, adn admire the world they helped save. In those moments, when Prescott has her in his arms, Cecelia's heart feels like it would burst from the insurmountable joy making it flutter. Just thinking about him tied her stomach in knots. Made her knees go weak.

"Maybe...maybe I'll go see him today." It's been quite a while since her last visit. She hopes he isn't too cross with her.

Cecelia gathered the brush, bucket, and towels, taking them to the wash room to be properly cleaned. The final duty of her cleaning list to fulfill. The last stretch of her race. She can't falter now. As she crossed the threshold, a fervent clattering caught her ear. She thought it might be the wind shaking the tower rafters again. The rafters aren't known for their sturdiness in the face of a breeze. Listening more closely, Cecelia was baffled that the usual creak with the rafters wasn't heard. The clattering was growing more rampant. She sent the dirty cloths and bucket down, returning to the workshop. There wasn't any wind outside to cause it. The windows were closed as well. Nothing was loose from place. It's not an earthquake, and the tower isn't moving. Where was the clattering coming from.

"Huh?" The brown cloth on the work table was rippling. What was draped beneath it was the source of the strange noise. "That's…" Wasteland was underneath there. She covered it so nothing would accidentally spill into it like with Mickey. Or...jump out and grab her.

Wasteland shook in spasms under the cloth, jerking a centimeter off the table every so often. A lump formed in Cecelia's throat. She hesitated to touch the cloth, afraid of what might emerge. Last time, the hand of the Blot snatched her up, and a nightmare began to unfold with each step she took. Swallowing the lump and steeling her nerves, Cecelia closed her eyes and ripped the cloth off. She gasped in abject horror, dropping the cloth. She went pale as a sheet. She staggered back, close to falling over.

"By the spirits!" She cried, holding her hands to her mouth. Cracks running across the display split the regions of Wasteland apart. The buildings were either tipping or crumbled apart. Wasteland started to tremble again. A gaping crack formed in Meanstreet. Cecelia planted her hands. Her mind and heart denied what her eyes absorbed. The world she and Mickey helped to save from destruction was tearing itself apart. "What's happening?" She quaked.

A year has passed since Cecelia set foot in Wasteland. Part of her was still very much afraid to enter. The Blot may be gone, but what he put her through will forever linger. Nevertheless, she can't sit idly by while the home of her closest friends tears itself asunder. She needed to put her personal fears aside and race to their aid. Just like they did for her so many times. Lucky for her, she left her spell book with Prescott. Hopefully he hasn't lost it in that mess he calls a workshop.

Cecelia nodded firmly. She was going to go back. She grabbed the closest pen on hand and went to look for paper. No sense just leaving without Yensid knowing where she's gone. As she touched the pen down, a bright glow came from Dark Beauty Castle's highest tower. Cecelia's legs urged her to run. The last time a glow came from there, a hand soon followed and pulled her in. However, the glow seemed different. Cecelia approached it. Her feline curiosity overwhelmed her judgement. She wondered if that glow has to do with the cracks, or if someone was sending a signal. The Mad Doctor maybe? He did miraculously disappear. This might be his doing. All the more reason for her to hurry. Grandpa will understand more and worry less since I'll be returning of my own accord.

"Just hold on, guys. I'm coming." She swore. She wished she had a way to reach Mickey. The mirror wasn't being cooperative this time around. Maybe she can summon him again like last time. Hopefully these cracks won't be necessary for them both to be involved. Because that would mean Wasteland was on the verge of being destroyed again.

Suddenly, just as she was about to write her letter, Cecelia was yelped as Wasteland started to quake out of control. The display bounced wildly on the table, skipping about like a square full of jumping beans. Cecelia dove and caught it just as it fell off. The display was heavier than it looked. The shaking wasn't making it any easier to hold. She lugged it back and slammed it to the middle of the table, putting books and cups around it so it wouldn't fall again. Forget the letter. Wasteland was in trouble. Cecelia braced herself, backing all the way to the wall for a running start. Leaving was easy enough. If what Gus said is true, entering should be a cinch as well. Cecelia never got to take a step.

The glow amassing from Dark Beauty Castle flared out of control. Bursts of fuzzy sparks hailed in a dome that rained down on the streets. Cecelia was so surprised that by the time she collected herself to charge her feet wouldn't move. She looked down to curse her own apprehension. A mist filled glow glued her feet to the floor. She pulled and tugged, roaring at the top of her lungs. The mist wouldn't relent. She want to pry her feet free. Her hands were ensnared by the same glow, frozen outward as if trapped in invisible shackles.

"What the-? HEY! LET GO!" She struggled. She twisted and thrashed viciously. The misty binds were strong. Too powerful for her to fight. "FINE!" Her eyes began to glow bright red. Her hair wafted in the energy pouring from her being. "Dimittere...et ignoscat...metum-"The same mist gripped her hands and feet clamp to her throat, choking the spell back. Pressure shot to Cecelia's skull. She desperately searched for a means to escape. The world was going blurry. The mist binds resonated with the power still emitting from her. A stream, similar to an aroma, fed to the glow surrounding Wasteland. Cecelia's eyes widened fearfully. Ethereal talons rose from the glow, feeding from the streams being drained from her. NO! Not again! She cried. This is like what happened last time. She fought in hysteria, ignoring the oxygen starved from her lungs. Through sheer force of will she managed to budge the shackles an inch, making them falter. She tried to utter a spell, only to drive the clamp to squeeze tighter. The streams became thicker, and the talons grew bigger. A small breath filled her and she screamed, "GRANDPA…!"

The talons shot forth. One clamped her arms to her sides, lifting her several feet off the ground. The shackle at her neck snaked to her mouth, forcing it to stay open. Her protest were incoherent mutters, but useless all the same. The second talon taunted and teased her, brushing the backs of its fingers to her cheek. Oddly, making her sick to her stomach, an enamoring warmth tingled her chest. Something's wrong! This is nothing like The Blot. This feels...familiar? The second talon drew back and plunged down her throat. Cecelia gagged as the huge arm wiggled in her windpipe. She hand clawing beyond where her internal organs would reside, digging further than the mortal coil of her person. Her insides were being shredded to ribbons. Tears welled to the corners of her her blurring eyes. The world was spinning like a top. Her screams were choked by the ravaging claw.

HELP ME, HELP ME, she cried in her mind. Yensid, Mickey, Prescott - anyone! SOMEBODY, PLEASE! The talons grasped something within her. A pressure like a vice jolted the core of her soul. Her eyes closed. MAKE - IT- STOP! A pulse fired from her, jolting the arms and shackles holding her. The talon in her stomach slowly slithered out. Her chest tensed and caved, her stomach pumping for his to leave. The talon removed itself with one sharp PULL. Saliva exploded from her mouth. She choked on the sweet air filling her lungs. The lingering hand threw Cecelia to the wall. She fell to her side. Awards on the shelf above toppled onto her. Darkness was gradually engulfing her. Her eyes were heavy as lead. In her stubbornness to retaliate, she forced her eyes to remain open long enough to meet the enemy which violated her face to face. She wanted to see what it those malicious hands stole from her.

For a breif moment her vision was clear. Confusion rippled her eyes. The shrinking talons were cupping to a swirling sun gold orb. "N...o…" She tried to reach for them. Her limbs were anchored to the floor. As the darkness started to engulf her, the talons sank beneath the dome of Wasteland, taking the orb somewhere she wouldn't reach. And then...black.

To be continued.

What do you think?