A/N: Hey, I finally got up to publishing a new chapter-story. I recently reread the Hunger Games and inspiration just struck, so I hope you enjoy! And just saying, this was INSPIRED by the Hunger Games, not exactly like it, or else everybody would know what would happen. But I hope it's exciting :D You also don't have to read the book to get what's going on.
A few notes before you start: You will find out that I absolutely CANNOT write in a Cockney accent...I'm so sorry if you can't understand what I wrote. Everytime you see something like "a'e" or "you'e", the apostrophe is where the silent "r" is supposed to be. Also, to make it more realistic, I added a couple Cockney Slang terms here and there. I'll explain what those mean in the end, because I'm talking way too much now :p Anyway, I hope you like it!
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Cats: the musical, and I don't own The Hunger Games.
"Attention: All Jellicles, report to the clearing immediately. To the clearing."
The murmurs of the cats from their dens buzzes across the junkyard: "What could he want?" "What is it now?" "Haven't we worked enough for one day?"
Before any cat can answer, the Mystery Cat's voice bellows over the speaker, "Now!"
You can practically hear every groan resonate through the tribe's yard as we reluctantly drag ourselves out from under out cotton blankets. My dear fourteen-year old younger sister, Jemima, is still curled up in a petite ball under her small blanket in order to have it cover her entire shivering body. I pad over to the sleeping queen and gently shake her awake.
"Oy, Jem," I say. "Toime to get up."
I can't help but smile when her wide, innocent eyes begin to flutter open. "Teazer?" Jemima rubs her eyes to get a clear image of me. "Good morning. Why are you up so early?"
"Mac's collin' us to the clearing," I explain. "Don' wanna maike 'im mad, do ya?" I tickle her stomach, making her giggle and push me away. "C'mon, now. Let's not keep 'im waiting." Taking Jemima's small paw in mine, I lead her out of our den into the blinding morning light. The paws of other Jellicles scuff against the dirt ground as we make our way to the clearing, where our new leader, Macavity, will most likely be giving us another unpleasant announcement. Last time we were called to the clearing, the Monster of Depravity commanded us to give away all our prized possessions to him, but if "the jewelry isn't lavish enough" or if the object "doesn't cause enough sentimental distress when given away", you were immediately shocked to death by lightning in front of the entire tribe, including the kittens.
Luckily none of us died that month.
Over the course of five months under Macavity's control, one Jellicle had been slaughtered. That poor tom was just a kitten—a new member of the tribe whom was found and raised by Munkustrap and Demeter. The tomkit, Achates, was only of ten years when Macavity had summoned us Jellicles to the clearing, only to be told that the youngest of the tribe would have to be sacrificed for Mac's own sadistic pleasure.
We still can't sleep at night.
Ever since Macavity had successfully overthrown Old Deuteronomy just six months after the most recent Jellicle Ball, we can barely keep our eyes shut throughout the night, afraid that Macavity will appear in our dreams or sneak ino our dens for a good scare. During the day, however, our eyelids are begging to close, but if they do—even for a split-second—Macavity will give us a severe whipping for sure. From dawn to dusk, six days a week, we go about our duties without any complaints. Every Jellicle has been assigned a job to serve the Jellicle tribe—or to serve Macavity, really. At the young age of sixteen, I am forced to hunt for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the Napoleon of Crime. Althougth the risk for getting him angry is extremely great with my task, I am aware that my assignment is not the worst. Most often the adults receive the toughest, most laborious jobs. As for my little sister, Jemima must sing for Macavity for hours on end, while her best friend Victoria is not allowed to stop dancing until she is told to. Poor Etcy and Electra must act as Macavity's servants for nearly the entire day, fetching for him all his wants until he is at least mildly content. To put it simply, life is hard for all of us Jellicles. But with the support of each other, somehow—somehow—we are able to scrape by.
"Teazer, look," Jemima says, pointing at the center of the clearing. There is the Hidden Paw himself, standing oh-so-regally with a ring of frail Jellicles surrounding him. His height and flaming ginger fur only adds to his superiority.
"'ey, waiy to ruin me Sundaiy, Mac," I call out. I'm really only cheeky for Jemima's sake. I don't want her to take life too seriously, even when Macavity is watching your every move. Just as I hoped, Jemima titters into her paw and ducks her head down to avoid making eye contact with the yellow-eyed beast.
"Don't sass me," Macavity sneers back. I chuckle in return. Seeing Macavity all day nearly every day has given me the chance to see him as a real feline. That is my goal for the month: to find one nice thing about Macavity. The month's almost over and I've gotten nothing so far.
Macavity shoots a bolt of lightning up into the pale sky to gain everyone's attention. "Listen up, pollicles. I have exciting news for today."
Oh, please, I think. Excoitin' foh you, maiybe. Foh us probablaiy immediate death.
"Since life at the junkyard has been rather uninteresting recently—"
"What, all those sacrifices we have made for you aren't enough?" Tugger shouts from the crowd.
"Shut. Up." The ginger tom death-glares his brother, ultimately silencing the Maine Coon. "Thank you. As I was saying, I am pleased to announce the start of a new game right here in our very own tribe's home."
"Really?" Etcetera squeals, jumping up and down with Electra. "What game? What game? Is it fun?"
"Fun for me, perhaps," Macavity responds with a sinister smile playing on his lips. The two kittens immediately stop hopping happily and instead share a nervous look with each other.
Jemima looks up at me through her thick eyelashes and inquires, "What does he mean by that, Teaze?"
"It can't be anyfin' too bad," I try to assure her, but Jem isn't dumb. She knows the difference between a Porkie Pie and a truth.
"The Jellicle Games may last days, weeks, months even. It all depends on how easily you can betray each other."
This last sentence sparks an uproar among the Jellicles. Jemima hugs my arm tight, and I try to stay strong for her, but inside I'm trembling like mad.
"Quiet, quiet," Macavity settles us down. "Confused?" We all nod our heads like good little kittens. "I thought so. In the Jellicle Games, there is only one winner, and that shall be the one feline, tom or queen, who is able to stay alive through the brutal fighting."
"Who are we fighting?" Victoria pipes up with her head cocked to the side.
The carroty tom's cackle thunders through the entire city of London. A cat can't help but flinch at the sound. "Ah, my dear queen, each other is who. Or are you Jellicles even to weak to fight your own kind?" More booming laughter.
"Excuse mai," I interrupt his neverending snickers, "but exactly wot will dis accomplish? You'e 'avin' us woipe out ou' enti'e populaition? Wot good will dat do?"
All my fellow Jellicles around me holler words of agreement, arguing about how ridiculous his idea is. In just a few moments, our angry shouts turn into a collective growl directed at the Napoleon of Crime.
"The object of the game is simple," Macavity continues, completely ignoring our cross comments. "Your goal is to survive. To kill or be killed. You will have no choice but to fight your very own friends, for, if you don't, I will." His creepy grin completed the threat. "If I see that anyone is not participating, I will be sure to grant them a slow and painful death. It will be impossible to climb over the fence and escape; I have already set up a force field around the perimeter of the junkyard. No food will be provided; you must hunt for yourselves. You will be given a variety of weapons to choose from, though, but you will have to fight for them. We will have a few days of training, but that is all. And then this junkyard is your arena, every Jellicle your enemy and threat."
"'Ey, Mac!" Mungojerrie yelled. "Ya reallaiy expect us to kill ou' friends and familaiy? Whoiy would we evah do such a fing?"
"Because," the ginger cat hissed back, "the winner—the only Jellicle alive—is rewarded with a grand prize."
He pauses for dramatic effect. Oh, Evahlasting Cat. "Expaaaaaand…" I urge him to continue.
"The prize," Macavity says, "is enough food, money, and freedom to allow you to leave the boundaries of the junkyard and explore the world, find a mate, and live a joyful life. How does that sound?"
"Rumpleteazer, can you imagine that?" Jemima says with wide eyes. "We can live with a human who can take good care of us!"
"Oi fink you'e missin' the point 'ere, Jem," I reply. "Mac is wonting us to muhdah each uhvah in ohdah to get dis so-cohlled 'proize'."
"You shall train on your own time. I have left suitable weapons for each of you in your dens. They will be taken away from you in just a matter of days, so I expect you all to begin training now." Macavity glares at the kittens around him. His eyes fall on me as well, and I can't help but shudder a bit when his piercing yellow eyes bore into my skin. "I will announce the day of the Games once it arrives. Until then, think about the reward one—and only one—Jellicle will have the chance to receive. Don't you all want freedom? Riches? Everything you could ever want and more? Think about it." And with that, he snaps his fingers and vanishes.
From the crowd of grumbling and sobbing Jellicles, I hear Tugger say to another tom, "Looks like Macavity's won again. He always gets his way." Yeah, but onlaiy 'cause you let 'im.
I can't see the Jellicles as anything else but defeatists. Once our beloved leader, Old Deuteronomy, was captured and killed by our new dictator, we immediately gave up on hope. We're nothing but quitters. Our entire tribe has collapsed and is now something I can't even recognize anymore. The "Jellicle Junkyard" still looks pretty much the same, but the number of cloudy and rainy days seems to have doubled. The air constantly smells like puke from the Jellicles who have overworked and vomited, poor things. And the Wallace and Grommit causing us to lurch our bodies around like we are some sort of drunk is basically just the regurgitation of our day's lunch. Needless to say, food is scarce. Even the mice these days are as weak as us, offering no sort of nutrition for our frail bodies. And of course Macavity doesn't care. All he does throughout the day is think up of ways to expand his empire and how to make our lives more miserable than they already are.
So when Tugger says this, I pull a confused Jemima away from the crowd and back to our safe den. I ignore the longbow and long, wooden tube resting against the wall of our den, and instead I lead Jemima to her favorite cushion and subconsciously tuck her in under her blanket.
Aw, no, not Jem, not me dea' li'le sistah, I think. She's too fragile, too delicate. She won' su'voive a daiy in dese gaimes. 'Ow am Oi supposed to break it to 'er?
"Rumpleteazer, what are you doing?" Jemima asks. "It's not bedtime yet; we just woke up!"
"Huh?" I say, blinking myself out of my inner world.
"Do you mind if you stop pacing for a second?"
I freeze in my spot. I didn't even realize that I am rapidly speeding back and forth across the room.
"Rumpleteazer, I don't get this. How is the Jellicle Games even a game?" Jemima asks innocently.
"You'e not the onlaiy one 'o's confused, Jem," I point out. "Oll the Jellicles a'e quite baffled, actuallaiy."
"Well, can you explain it for me, please?" my sister says, looking up at me through thick eyelashes.
I sigh. "Olroight. But Oi don' wont to see anaiy tea's, 'kaiy? Macavity doesn' appreciate croiyn' queens."
Jemima bites her bottom lip and then hesitantly replies, "Okay."
"Okaiy, listen up." I take her shaking paws in mine and squeeze them hard, because I'm half-expecting her to sprint from the den, sobbing uncontrollably. "We oll know Macavity's a sick tom, roight?" She nods and urges for me to go on. "Well, 'e's ti'ed of the Jellicles."
"He was always tired with us."
"Yes, but now 'e's even mo'e fed-up," I clarify. "'e 'as no use foh us. 'e wants to get rid of the Jellicles completelaiy."
"How?" Jemima meows quietly.
"By 'ostin' the Jellicle Gaimes. 'e lets us train foh a whoile, then confiscaites ouh weapons. On the daiy of the Gaimes, we oll come out to the clearing and search foh weapons, Oi guess." Macavity really wasn't very clear with the instructions. Maybe this amuses him even more…
"But why do we need weapons? When would we use them?" Jemima inquires, still rather puzzled.
"Macavity's troing to tu'n oll the Jellicles against each ovah. 'e wonts us to kill one anovah, to foight foh the prize in the end."
"Freedom and riches?"
"Fraidom and riches—and gloraiy. But onlaiy one Jellicle can be the winnah."
"Wait," Jemima interjects, finally grasping the true concept of these Games. "After these Games, only one Jellicle will be living? Out of all of us, only one?"
"Dat is 'is intention, Oi suppose." I heave another sigh and sweep off a single tear running down my sister's sweet face. "Oi'm sorraiy, Jem, but we can't disobey Macavity, or it'll be off wif oll of ouh 'eads."
"Wouldn't that be better than having our own friends slay us?" Jemima cries, her voice cracking. "What could be worse than the Jellicles being forced to murder one another?"
"No, no, Jemmy, don't worraiy," I tell the weeping queen, holding her close. "The Jellicles will nevah agree to it anywaiy. If Macavity wonts a show, 'e ain't gonna get one. No Jellicle will evah 'arm anovah, Oi promise."
She holds out her tiny pinky finger. "Pinky promise?"
A small smile plays on my lips as a clasp my little finger around hers. "Pinkaiy promise. Tell ya wot: let's blow off dis training and go catch some lunch instead, yea?"
"Okay!" Jemima agrees. "Let me just put on my collar first."
"Olroight, Oi'll meet ya outsoide the den." I turn to leave as Jemima rummages through drawers and items to find her spiky collar. Once Macavity became dictator, he required all Jellicles to have a tracking device either secured into their collar or inside their bodies. As for me, a small tracker has been inserted into one of my many Woolworth pearls. Now stepping a foot outside the boundaries of the junkyard has its consequences.
Parting the curtain that marks the entrance of our den, I can no longer hear screams and sobbing coming from the tribe. Nearby, two cats are murmuring to each other, both of them toms.
"You know," a voice I recognize as Alonzo's says, "this whole Jellicle Games idea…may not be all that bad."
I raise an eyebrow to myself. Surely he must be joking!
"What makes you say that?" Admetus responds to his friend.
"Admit it: life is downright rotten with Macavity as our tribe's leader. Won't you do just about anything to gain your freedom again?"
"I…guess…so," Admetus hesitantly replies. "But it all seems a bit severe, don't you think?"
"However it will turn out, it can't be any worse than living in this sorry state." Admetus nods in agreement, and they separate from each other. I'm quite shocked by their conversation and Alonzo's desperate words, but I try not to overanalyze it. After all, we Jellicles have not been completely rational recently. Macavity's insanity is rubbing off on us…
"Okay, Teazer, I'm ready." Jemima bounds out of our den and takes my paw. "Where should we dine?"
"The choice is you's, Jem."
"How about behind the TSE-1?"
"Wonde'ful. Dat area's been teeming wif pigeons, laitely." We walk together to the junkyard's most famous car, also Jemima's favorite place to have a mini-picnic. I start off with a brisk jog to the car, but I'm gradually slowing down as I catch bits and pieces from the Jellicles' conversations.
"How much food do you think we'll receive?"
"What would life be like without Macavity, do you think?" "I guess the only way to find out is if we participate in this Jellicle Games."
"Once I win, I think the first place I'll go is—" "Hey, who said you are going to win?"
"Did you see the weapons in your den today?"
"How long do you think the Games will last?"
"Who do you think will win?"
"…I bet she'll be the first to fall…"
"Rumpleteazer?"
Jemima tugs on my arm, her face full of concern. "Rumpleteazer, are you okay? Your face is turning pale."
"O-Oi'm foine, Jemmy." I point to a bird that swoops down from above and hides just behind the TSE-1, its head bopping around as it walks. "Let's go catch dat pigeon, shall we?" I keep my eye on the tasty bird fluffing its wings as I drag Jemima up and over the TSE-1.
"Dude, I totally ROCK these throwing knives. How did Macavity know?"
I grit my teeth and make an attempt at blocking out all background noise. Jemima scrambles up the hood and roof and slides down to the boot of the car. I follow her at a snail's pace, too distracted to keep my mind focused on anything else but eavesdropping.
"What about the kittens?" "What about them?" "They won't last a day in this jungle by themselves." "Well, less competition, right?"
A low growl escapes my lips, but I quickly cut it off and replace it with a quiet titter when Jemima hears me. I give her a miniscule smile to assure her nothing is wrong and resume to overhearing the Jellicles' conversations.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Electra pouting up at Alonzo, who is avoiding eye contact with her. "Lonzy, isn't this awful?" she says.
Alonzo doesn't respond. He merely pivots around and marches off, leaving Electra helplessly sobbing on the ground. Oh, no. Dis is not tuhning out the waiy it's supposed to.
"Jemima!" I call, catching up to the red and black queen, who is happily munching away on a pigeon's wing.
"I saved you the legs, Rumpleteazer. I know that's your favorite bit." Jemima grins up at me, her eyes dry but her face still mildly tearstained. She hands me the tender fowl, and I ravenously sink my sharp teeth into the meat, savoring every succulent bite. I chew slowly, making sure every last bit of flavor dissolves on my tongue, because there's no knowing whether that will be my first and only meal of the day or not. In fact, just spotting the pigeon was luck enough. Too bad there wasn't a flock to tag along.
"'ere, you can 'ave 'alf of moine." I toss one leg to her, and she nearly squeals for joy. I sit down and lean my back against the TSE-1, keeping my ears perked up.
"What do you think about this, Jenny?" I hear Skimbleshanks say.
"Skimble," Jennyanydots replies, "desperate times call for desperate measures."
Jenny too! 'ow can oll the adults be folling foh dis? A'e we reallaiy dat afraid of Macavity?
"Teazer, I'm done!" Jemima exclaims, rushing over to me. "Since it's our day off, we can spend the day together!"
"It's awful that we have to think that way, but I think you may be right, Jenny," Skimbleshanks says.
"Teazer?"
"I wish we didn't have to come to this…risking the lives of our own kittens…"
"We can't all live here like this, Jenny. It's torture. And if one of the kittens wins, then good for that kit."
"Teazer? You seem distracted."
"I guess the Heaviside Layer would be much better than the life we are all living now, correct?"
"Correct. The Jellicles will be on cloud nine…literally."
"Rumpleteazer, are you sleeping with your eyes open or something?"
In utter infuriation, I unintentionally rip out strands of my headfur and scream, "Dis is absuhd!" Jemima jolts backwards in surprise, yet I continue to rant, "It's absolutelaiy, positivelaiy ridiculous! Wot is wrong wif dis troibe?"
"Sorry, Teaze. I didn't mean to make you mad," Jemima apologizes, ducking her head down.
Aw, now look wot you've done, Teazah. "Oi'm sorraiy, Jemima. It's not your fault. Oi'm just a bit…peeved. And new chainge of plans: we a'e gaoin' to train—oll daiy if we 'ave to."
"But…why?" Jemima inquires, obviously disappointed.
"Because it's no longah a mattah of winning and losing, Jem." I lean in close and murmur in a low voice, "Twenty-fouh cats a'e gonna be foightin' foh theih loives, and onlaiy one is gonna come out aloive. Don't you wont dat cat to be you?"
"But I thought you said the Jellicles aren't going to do it! I thought we are going to revolt!" Jemima cries, her eyes glossing over with more tears.
"Dat's wot Oi thought, but dat's not wot is gaoin' to 'appen. The other Jellicles seem to be looking fohwahd to the grand proize in the end." I reach for Jemima's paw, but she jerks it away. "Come on, now. If you wanna win, you'll 'ave to train mo'e than the ovahs."
She shakes her head. "No!"
"Come on, Jem, don't be a whoiny kittaiy."
She merely shakes her head again. "No!"
I seize her arm and drag her back to the clearing. "No!" she screeches, drawing the attention of others. "No, I won't train! I won't! I don't want to do this!"
"Oi don't wanna train eithah, but Oi'm troiyin' to 'elp you out! If you wanna live to see the next month, you'e gonna 'ave to wohk foh it!"
"Please, Rumpleteazer, I won't! Just the thought of my motive for doing it…it's awful!" Jemima sobs, digging her claws into the ground. "I c-can't believe w-we're going through with this," she blubbers. "W-What happened to b-being good and c-compassionate?"
Seeing my sister in tears makes me want to cry too, but I stay strong for her. I can't be a weak target for the Games. I pick my sister up and cradle her as I stroll back to our den, ignoring the looks of others as I walk by. I drop Jemima onto a blanket and some cushions so that she can have a nice catnap. I say that once she is fully-rested, we can begin training as to not be intimidated by the well-trained Jellicles out there. Jemima still refuses. And it's not because she's lazy or lacklusterful. It is not because she isn't athletic or skillful.
It is simply because Jemima won't dare to touch anything that would harm her own kind.
How was it? If you have any questions, comments, and/or critique, please review!
Cockney Slang in this chapter: Wallace and Grommit=vomit. Porkie Pie=lie. I think that's it!
Thanks so much for reading! Please review! (And I would also love some tips on writing in Cockney accents, thanks!)