AUTHOR'S NOTE: Here's the next chapter. I told you I wasn't going to take as long as before. :P This one is mostly exposition, exposition, Mungo and Teaser standing with their jaws agape, exposition. Hopefully some action peeks through in the next? Haha. Please, please enjoy.


The Pariah, Heroic

CHAPTER 3


"You sleep over there," Ventis motioned to a dim, plain corner in the henchcats' living quarters. "You have that sack as a cushion." He was about to walk away when he noticed the black-and-orange tom had not at all moved. "Well, stray? Expect me to sing you a lullaby?"

The teenaged kitten shook his head, still standing shakily where he was. "No, it's… eh, never mind." He realized that the gaunt, balding henchcat was eyeing him distrustfully. "I'm… I'm just glad it's better than where I came from." With nothing more than a noncommittal grunt, Ventis turned and trudged out of the den.

A ringing silence tickled at his wilting ears. With no idea of what was to come, Jerrie stretched a little and curled up on the meat cloth. It was cold, unadorned. He imagined it would look much better with colors.

Jerrie closed his eyes. What was he going to do now? Crying seemed unreasonable. He had lost nothing. On the contrary, he'd found somewhere to live, and other cats to talk to. The thought made him remember how exhausted he was – how bruised his paws were from endlessly walking through the city paths. Yowler had found him lying in an alley forcing out a newborn's cry to its mother. Jerrie closed his eyes.

Only a moment later, he felt the soft pads of a paw laid on his arm. Groggy, he kept his eyelids glued shut, too tired to acknowledge who it was. The claws attached to it combed lightly at his fur, curious.

"It's me, Teaser," a squeaky female voice informed him. "I'm ten moons old. Macavity says you're 'bout the same age. I like silver things. And brown mice. And Argentine joint. So if you want us to be friends, you have to remember that."

Jerrie curled up a little tighter in his bed. He didn't want to be rude and show how disinterested he was, but he really was too drained to listen. The paw stopped stroking, and laid itself firmly on his shoulder instead.

"T'morrow's free-roam," Rumpleteaser's voice continued. "If you want, you could run with me. I like to run, too."

"Sounds fun," was all Jerrie could muster, and his mind finally gave in to dreaming.


"Um. Hello, boss?"

The smattering of henchcats that were in the den had fallen silent in the presence of their leader. He motioned for them all to leave, which they unquestioningly did so.

"Good afternoon, kit," the hero said coolly, his paws behind his back. From Mungojerrie's view, the upside-down Macavity towered darkly over him, against the little brightness there was in the room. Each sharp tuft of fur was outlined with light, and his face was covered in shadows.

"Aft'noon, boss!" answered Rumpleteaser cheerily, putting on a flashy smile. She fluttered her eyelashes, hoping for a compliment.

Macavity returned the smile. "Good afternoon, darling," he returned, and patted the young queen's head affectionately. She received it with low, rolling purrs. Macavity looked again at Mungojerrie, who was still pinned to the floor by a distracted Rumpleteaser.

"Have you been enjoying your stay here, Jerrie?" to hear his name – well, at least his old name – being spoken by the hero, felt somewhat thrilling. Wordlessly, he nodded his head, like he had done as a young kit on his first day.

"His name is Mungojerrie now!" Rumpleteaser piped up, her ear still under Macavity's paw. "I made it for him."

The fat, gray-furred Yowler peeked out from behind Macavity, looking annoyed. "Not entirely. Macavity gave him the official name of Jerrie, and you simply attached our nickna-"

"If my dear believes he is better suited being named Mungojerrie, then Mungojerrie he will be," the ginger cat raised a paw to keep Yowler quiet, and grumpily he complied. "Now, kit, stand up so we can have a look at you."

Hastily the tom pulled himself out of Rumpleteaser's grips and stood at attention, obedient as a soldier. There was silence for a few seconds, and before a henchcat or Rumpleteaser could break it, the Hidden Paw spoke to him.

"Look at me."

He squirmed, becoming nervous.

"Mungojerrie, look at me."

With all his willpower gathered, Mungojerrie wrenched his eyes from the dark, dusty ground to meet with the most piercing pair he had ever seen. They were black, yet bright, and in his pupils was a sharp glint of orange – Mungojerrie's reflection. The gaze was fixed that way for what felt like a solid minute, and if there was any other noise going on in the living quarters it had been all but blocked out.

"Have you trained at all in the time you were here?" inquired Macavity.

Mungojerrie, timidly, shook his head.

"We run the streets together on good days," Rumpleteaser offered. "And he goes off alone every once-and-then."

Mungojerrie gulped; he hoped he wouldn't be mad.

Macavity nodded. "A tiny bit of bravery within you. Good to begin with." He looked him up and down, inspecting his arms, his face. He took Mungojerrie's jaw between his thumb and forefinger, to study his fangs. "You've grown well," he observed, calmly. "A far cry from that mute reject-kit Yowler found."

He let go of his jaw. Mungojerrie took this moment to rub at his cheeks, still feeling the dents where the hero's claws had rested. Hopefully it didn't seem disrespectful – he had no idea what Macavity truly thought of his behavior.

"How would you like your first assignment, kit?"

Mungojerrie's paw dropped from his face. His stare was no longer uneasy, but now bewildered. Macavity's remained the same – expressionless, intellectual. In the split second he had to think, Mungojerrie wondered if the hero ever felt anything besides pride, and deep thought. Partly he could see beside himself Rumpleteaser's own shocked face - he wasn't being assigned before she was, was he?

"A-assignment, boss?" he managed to stammer out. "But I haven't even…"

"Yes, you haven't trained to match my other cats," Macavity waved a paw and cut him off. "But this specific job does not require brute strength. Not even fighting skills. It calls for you… and Rumpleteaser."

Rumpleteaser perked up at the mention of her name, her blue eyes wide. "Me?"

"For Bast's sake, Macavity," Yowler butted in, sounding more frustrated than he usually did. "They're kittens. Well, young adults if you discard exaggeration, but how could these two even handle a detailed set of instructions?"

"Calm, Yowler," replied Macavity, nonchalantly. "The instruction is simple. The rest will come naturally. This mission calls for Rumpleteaser's cunning, and Mungojerrie's… bravery."

The two orange cats exchanged looks, beaming from the praise that had drowned out Yowler's complaints. What was this assignment so special that it called specifically for them, the Notorious Couple of Cats? (Rumpleteaser had made up their team name. Mungojerrie had expressed dislike for it but it wasn't like she was going to listen anyway.)

Macavity cleared his throat to regain everyone's attention. "A summary," he said with his head unmoving but his dark eyes scanning the room. "A summary of the tribes near our home."

Yowler hurriedly scuttled from behind the leader to beside him. He began counting with his fingers. "Well, eh… the Quelles, Thorons, the Meladous, the… Rets, and, well… the Jellicles."

"Excellent," the leader nodded. He began to pace in front of the teenaged kittens, who were still standing at attention, listening to every word. "Here now is a lesson on all the other inhabitants of London, younglings. The Quelle Cat tribe stays to the west at Abbots, in a human's closed up park. They specialize in plant life, and herbs, but in fighting they pose no threat. The Thoron Cats reside in a warehouse in Pennack, wherein they have learned to create machines to assist them in their lives. I have come to them often for weapons, and they do not disappoint. We do not treat them as enemy.

"The Meladou tribe… a useless bunch. The elitists in feline society, I might say. All have owners, and they have no official tribe residence. They simply meet at their humans' clubs and parties in St James Street. My men could easily take them down in one planned attack, but what use are pampered cats to my empire – or to anyone, for that matter? The Ret Cats are the largest tribe in London. Of course, number somewhat sacrifices intelligence so they are all quite clueless. It would be effortless to convince them into becoming an army for us, but as of now I do not need them. And now we come to the final tribe."

"The Jellicles," Rumpleteaser finished, now completely focused. She bit her lip. Mungojerrie could see she was practically jumping out of her fur to hear more.

"Yes, Teaser darling. The Jellicle tribe. Now, the Quelles specialize in farming, the Thorons in mechanics, the Meladous in being arrogant fussers, and the Rets in combat, but the Jellicles… their skill might be considered the most powerful."

"Magic," said Yowler. "They specialize in magic."

Mungojerrie's ears flicked back and forth in increased curiosity. Up to now he had never heard this detail about the Jellicles.

"The number of magical cats they have is greater than any other tribe's," Macavity continued, his pacing leaving a noticeable trail of dust on the ground. "Foolish, though, they are. They use their powers for nothing more than shows and tricks. Imagine what we could do with them."

"What… what could we do with them, Boss?" Mungojerrie asked.

The Hidden Paw stopped pacing, turning his head towards him. He looked him, wordlessly, in a way that made Mungojerrie squirm once again. Rumpleteaser froze where she was, suddenly just as tense.

Without warning, Macavity spun around to face the other side of the den, and lifted his claws to a corner of the ceiling. Lightning – pure, hot, blinding lightning – zapped out from his paw and ended in a burst of fire in the cement it had been aimed at. A gaping hole now poured new light into the living quarters, still crackling faintly with electricity.

Macavity turned back to face the utterly stunned kittens, as calm as before. In the sudden movement Yowler had ended up crouched on the ground, shielding his head with his arms. He peeked out from under as the last of the lightning fizzled out in popping noises.

"Forgive my rudeness, Macavity, but did that really have to happen… in our living den?"

"I am descended from a particularly magical cat," Macavity resumed his narrative, completely ignoring his assistant. "He is the leader of the Jellicles – Old Deuteronomy." He took note of Mungojerrie's astonished expression. "I will not hide from either of you my past. Yes, once in my youth I was with the Jellicles, with my brother, Munkustrap. As of now the Jellicle tribe is in a mostly vulnerable state. They are currently in mourning for the passing of my mother, Noily Prat."

The hero's indifference towards his mother's death did not surprise Mungojerrie. Then again, he had never met his own mother, so who was he to judge?

"My magic is limited to the battle, levitation and teleportation kinds. The Jellicles, however, keep to themselves a special sort. They alone hold the power to open up the Heaviside Layer. It is where the wisest of Jellicles are once a year chosen to go to experience true enlightenment, to be reborn. And, if you realize… the Jellicle cats are nothing without it." A sly, proud grin crept to Macavity's lips. "All destruction begins from within."

Mungojerrie blinked after what felt like a straight hour of intently listening. His ears twitched. He couldn't tell if Macavity's last sentence was meant to be cryptic, because it had not at all helped in figuring out what the mission was about.

"So, boss," Rumpleteaser finally piped up, beginning to sound excited again. "What're we going to do?"

"Yes, what are they going to do?" asked Yowler, his interest evident as well.

"And here is where your mission features," Macavity gave his Rumpleteaser an unusually friendly smile. "You shall join the tribe as young strays, looking for shelter. While their security is high their silly softness for the homeless always shows through. From there you shall relay messages to me on their inner workings – on how exactly they open their Layer, on how their magic functions… and hopefully, how to destroy their powers."

"No magic means no Jellicles," Mungojerrie realized aloud. He felt thrilled to have so much now in his paws.

Macavity smiled at him the same way he had smiled at Rumpleteaser, making him feel much more at ease. "That is correct, Mungojerrie. Once we take over the magic they possess, the Jellicles are nothing – thus removing them as obstacles in the progress of my business." He leaned over closer, until he was eye-to-eye with the faces of the black-and-orange cats. "Are you willing?"

"Yes!" Rumpleteaser exclaimed joyfully, with no hesitation whatsoever. "Yes, boss!"

Macavity's eyes shifted to the tom, awaiting an answer. "And you, Mungojerrie?"

Imagine the pride the hero would feel, how much he would praise him upon completion of the mission. Smiling, Mungojerrie nodded. "Yes, boss."

And that, he supposed, was the official beginning of the Notorious Couple of Cats.