A/N I changed the crappy title. I like this one XD! I also changed Macavity's name. Jeez that was dumb...anyway, chapter two is now up

Even being the shy, somewhat cowardly cat he was, Misto couldn't very well sit back and watch while the love of his life getting dragged away. Not hardly thinking, he climbed down the junk pile, carefully navigating the familiar path. By the time he'd made his cautious way down, Macavity had already escaped.

Serves me right for being so slow!

Upon reaching the ground, Mistoffelees sprinted along the main junkyard lane and out through the entrance without so much as a backward glance. Instantly, he was frightened. A monster twenty times as big as himself came out of nowhere and flew past with a loud, growling noise. Many more of these frightening monsters followed. They all seemed to be running along a black track. He thought he'd seen them before - a long time ago - but couldn't fully recall any encounters...Instead of standing around waiting to be run over, Misto sped down the sidewalk. He ran for almost two blocks before coming to a halt, relizing he had no idea where to start. Macavity's lair could be anywhere in London - maybe (but most likely not) anywhere in the world!

These were another kind of thought that our tuxedoed friend hated thinking. He tried to always think optimistically, but as of late, that had proved more difficult than usual. So instead he came up with a plan.

Misto decided to search all the nearby alleys - circling wider and wider around the junkyard until he could go no further (he reached water or some other barrier). At least it was a start. From there, he could plan out the rest of his search. This is when all the other Cats started pouring into the streets, a frenzy of meowing and running paws.

Caught up in the confusion, Misto was battered from all sides. As the Cats thinned out, each searching for themselves to find their missing friends, The Conjuring Cat shook his head to clear it, walked around a bit until he was no longer dizzy from all the flashing colors of pelts, and began his search.

He searched all day and long into the night, finding little more than garbage and empty crates. He caught rats and mice to satiate his hunger and drank from puddles to quench his thirst. After hours of fruitless looking for his beloved, Misto finally culred up in an unfamiliar back alley and nodded off.

Upon waking, the Conjuring Cat looked around, taking a moment to remember where he was. Then he recalled Victoria and sighed deeply, letting a single tear travel down his face. He decided he'd better keep looking. So he made his lethargic way to his feet and looked around, trying to remeber which way he'd come. Both ends of the alleys looked the same. He sped to the left, coming out in broad daylight amongst some carts selling fruit and pastries.

Time to have a little fun. Then, Victoria, I'll come for you!

Padding slowly up to a cart with doughnuts, frosted in each and every imaginable color, he snapped his fingers. A doughnut rose into the air. People nearby gasped. The cart owner looked dumbfounded. No one noticed Mistoffelees, so small and huddled in close to the cart. He clapped his paws and the doughnut moved to hover over his head, still high enough so that no one noticed him.

A crowd was gathering now. He clapped his paws again and the doughnut vanished! Many of the onlookers gasped again, mouths resembling tiny "o"s. The pastry reappeared around Misto's foreleg and he darted back into the shelter of the backalley to feast on his cleverly-won prize.

There was a commotion around the corner of the alley. The pedestrians were angry because they thought the doughnut-cart owner was cheating them. The owner was angry because he thought that someone had stolen one of his doughnuts and wanted them to pay up. He was correct on one front: someone had stolen his doughnut, but it wasn't one of the innocent bystanders and Misto had no intention of paying up, on accout of the fact that he possessed no money.

So our clever little michevious theif of a cat enjoyed his treat, but after his moment of fun was over, he remembered the sweet, angelic face of his true love.

I've got to find her now.

So he set off, dashing through alleys, narrowly avoiding dogs, and swiping food from carts by way of his little dissapearing act. However, he didn't want word to spread that a magician was stealing food all over London, so he simply made the food vanish and appear in his hands. Most of the time, no one noticed, and when they did, they thought little of it and assumed it was just their eyes playing tricks on them.

Little did they know about the black and white tuxedo cat who was enjoying many stolen meals. Mistoffelees, being the kind and loving cat he was, used this arguement to calm his conscience whenever he remembered that what he was doing was against the law - He figured that if he had any money, he'd pay, but seeing as he didn't, there was no alternative other than catching vermin and hoping he didn't get a disease. Here was the most important part: He couldn't get a disease because then he wouldn't be able to save Victoria and he'd never win her love and she'd most likely be killed.

This little explaination always reminded him of his task. He must save her before it was too late. How late was too late? He didn't know. It could already be too late, but he tried not to think pessimistically. Of course it wasn't too late. Why would Macavity steal cats just to kill them. Wouldn't he just kill all and take no prisoners? Obviously! So, again, our Misto calmed his racing thoughts with reason.

He had, of late, taken to arguing with himself. Not out loud, but in his head. It wasn't crazy because he had no company (one of his arguements). If he had someone to talk to, he'd talk to them, but, seeing as he didn't, he chose to talk to himself. Of course, he had run into several of the other Jellicle cats the first few days, but most had given up. They didn't want to loose their junkyard to another tribe of cats or those Pollicle dogs! So they headed home, mourning, but none the less returning to their normal everyday activities.

It was a warm, fuzzy, end-of-summer day when Misto had just finished his dinner of a chicken leg, nicked from a fast food resturaunt. He was eating in the alley to one side of the diner when a familiar face nearly made him choke on the last bite of chicken.

"Jemima!" He called. He knew he'd seen her. It could have been a mirage but he was positive she had been there.

A long pause followed where he began to gnawon the chicken bone, trying to suck out all the flavor before he set out again to search more alleys.

After this pause came a quiet response: "Who's there?"

"It's Misto! Jemima where are you? Are you okay?"

The young multicolored kit stepped around the corner of the resturaunt.

"I'm fine. What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm...I'm looking for Vicky." Jemima looked at her paws.

"Me too." Misoffelees replied sadly. "How long have you been searching?"

"I don't know. Months? Years? Ever since she went missing. The tribe thinks I got run over by a car."

"Oh those monsters. Wait, they're like the cars in our junkyard? No way! They're WAY scarrier."

"Of course! You didn't know that?"

"Oh, I thought I'd seen them before. Now I get it." Misto replied. Little did he know, that was only one of his memories of these monsters, more commonly known as "cars".

"Well, I've been looking for Victoria too. Has Plato given up his search?"

"Long ago. He was downright depressed when I last saw him. It was when he finally gave up the search." Jemima looked sad for the broader, bolder tom.

"Oh. Too bad for him." Misto tried to sound comforting and sad but his voice warped the words into more cheery and almost thankful sounding.

"You're happy about that aren't you." Jemima sounded neither angry nor okay with the fact, just knowing.

"Yes...I kind of wanted to find her myself. I..."

"You wanted to prove that you love her more by rescuing her. You wanted to be the hero and rescue your damsel in distress. It's fine by me. I know Vicky would think that was cute. I was never sure if she loved you or not. I know she did before the Ball. She was head over heels...but then Plato asked her and she couldn't refuse. She was extremely sorry she kicked you to the curb like that though."

The Conjuring Cat could no longer hold back the flood of tears. She didn't like him?

"No, don't cry! I'm sure she still loves you. I'm her best friend. I would know, even if she didn't tell me. We ought to start looking again. Come on Misto, cheer up. Let's find her! You can prove your love! Come on Magical Cat let's go rescue your damsel in distress!

Here's chapter two for anyone who wanted it. Thank you for my two reviews. I love reviews. Especially the happy kind where people like my stories. I like the helpful, constructive critizism kinds too. Keyword: CONSTRUCTIVE. No flames please. and correct me if I used Pollicle dogs in the correct sense...Even I'm not sure...

madicullen