Welcome back, little Gemskies! Beo's here with another chapter of the 100 One-Shot Challenge (almost said 100 Baby Challenge; I'm dying for The Sims 4)! The next little entry's theme will be….Father! I love this challenge a lot because I like seeing where my imagination will take me. So, this third one will be Father! After this one, only 97 to go! I'll be updating depending on my schedule for this story because I have forum stuff to do and updating LotRHS and all that and planning little stories such as Thundercrest Lane. Yep, got a lot to do when you're a FFA! BUT I STILL LOVE IT! Les go!

A response to your reviews:
Guest (Chapter 1): If you believe in Stormblood's words, yes, innocent blood is the true taste of victory. I find it very tasty. Like pizza.

Guest: (Chapter 2): Heh, I set it up so that he had no feelings and only follows Fate. He couldn't hate anyone. His mind is steel, not bringing anything in, not bringing anything out (not that there was anything in there in the first place). And hey, this is Rock we're talking about here! But yes, if I wasn't immobilized to feelings, yes, I would drop a tree branch on someone I hated for giggles and shiz. So, yes, Rock is an emotionless being that just pretends he believes in Jayfeather or cares for him. His brain is a lie! *le gasp*

Tigerstripe: BEO DOES NOT OWN WARRIORS. PERIOD. That's your disclaimer for the day. Hope you enjoy the one-shot!

Patchpaw looked up at the dark night sky teeming with stars. I wonder if my father's there, he wondered. He then shook his head. Probably not if Webshine said he's a rogue. He wouldn't believe in StarClan then. Sighing, he settled down on his stomach, wincing as his sloshing belly spread out from underneath him. The young tom had had quite a feast the evening before and now he was bulging with prey. Ugh, I ate too much….

He looked at his sister, Dawnpaw peacefully sleeping in her nest, comfortably full as she had chosen to be smart and not eat as much as Patchpaw. His stomach gurgled as if to remind him of that. But tonight, he couldn't sleep not from his digesting problems but from thinking about his father.

Maybe he was a good cat, Patchpaw thought. But why would he not believe in StarClan? His brow furrowed as he thought of the impossibilities. Sighing, he settled down and turned back to the apprentices' den.

"Wait!" A sudden, masculine voice called out, making Patchpaw turn around. Descending from the sky was a bushy-furred tom with stars in his fur and a pale light that shone around him. He could just make out his pelt color, black-and-white like him. "Hello?" Patchpaw asked cautiously, not sure he was ready to talk to a starry cat he barely knew.

The tom smiled, revealing pearly white teeth that flashed in the dark. "Hello, my son," he meowed warmly. "Son?" Patchpaw was confused. His father had been a rogue that didn't believe in StarClan.

"You're not my father," he retorted coldly, his fur bristling as he bared his fangs. The cat frowned and shook his head slowly. "No, Patchpaw," he began to say, but the small black-and-white apprentice backed away.

"I don't want to hear anything you have to say, you starry….freak!" Patchpaw spat, deep down afraid that he had actually met his father. He backed away, his tail brushing the entrance and he saw the tom take a step toward the forest. The sky was lightening as dawn approached and the stars seemed to glow less faintly in his fur.

The tom called out something incomprehensible as Patchpaw vanished into the apprentices' den and stayed there, watching with fearful eyes as the unknown cat that claimed to be his father flickered and burned out in the rising sun.

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Several seasons later, Patchpaw had grown into a fine, young tom, skilled enough to become a warrior. He received his warrior name, Patchstorm along with his sister who was given the name Dawnheart. He was blessed with amazing hunting skills, though he was a bit weak on fighting whilst Dawnheart seemed to become a different she-cat entirely.

Her calm beginning apprentice days had ended and she was now fiery, hot-headed, and surprisingly snappy toward her brother. Patchstorm hadn't changed much, only to become much more sensible and skilled. He was still a naïve young warrior, after all.

It was night now and the two were on their silent vigil, looking toward the stars and protecting the Clan from external dangers. Patchstorm glanced at Dawnheart, who was humbly bowing her head, quiet but alert.

The black-and-white warrior sighed and settled his chin on his forepaws, looking longingly at the sky. For the first time in moons since that strange dream he had had about meeting his father cloaked in stars, he began to think about his father. He wondered where he was right now, dead or alive. Was he enjoying the shining presence of StarClan or lurking in the deep depths of the Dark Forest?

He hoped he was alive. Then he would one day be able to meet him. But that would never happen now. No warrior would trust him with the duty of finding a cat that had maybe not known them at all or had been long lost.

Then he saw a faint light on the horizon. He squinted and saw it flashing brightly, as if giving him a signal. Do you see that? He mouthed to Dawnheart. She shook her head, greenish amber eyes mildly curious. Patchstorm pointed his tail in the direction of the light growing stronger every second.

Over there? He crinkled his brow when Dawnheart shook her head, her eyes lighting up with amusement as she turned her head away to watch the nursery where the sounds of Ashwhisker's new kits rang out through the night air.

Patchstorm was still puzzled by the light, but as it came closer, he began to see the figure of a cat within it. He was confused. A cat inside light? What does this all mean? He eyed the light suspiciously until it became too bright for him to regard. Then, touching down into the camp, a black-and-white tom stood, his whiskers long and frayed and his muzzle greying.

Patchstorm looked toward Dawnheart, alarmed but she didn't look as if she had seen anything. He took in a deep breath and decided to take his risks by thinking this was a dream. "Hello?" he called quietly. Dawnheart didn't respond and neither did the rest of the camp.

The older cat stepped forward until Patchstorm could see his defining features, extremely large paws, a bushy tail, and almost serene narrowed green eyes. "You…look like me," he stumbled, troubled by this new tom.

"Yes, I do," the cat replied. "I am Darkspots, your father." Patchstorm's eyes widened. "I was thinking about you tonight," he burst out. "I thought you were a rogue! Mother always told us that!" Darkspots frowned. "Yes, your mother did tell you and Dawnheart that in your youth," he meowed wistfully. "But now is the time to tell you the truth. I was a proud BreezeClan warrior in my early days and I met your mother at a Gathering one night. It took me a while to realize I loved her and a few Gatherings afterwards, we met together and your mother, a young warrior gave birth to you and Dawnheart soon after. She was going to give them to StreamClan, but I died and she became too heartbroken to leave you and her behind."

Patchstorm was overwhelmed by the information. He could barely splutter out, "How did you die?" Darkspots' eyes became distant. "Your mother's sister attacked me as I intercepted a blow from another warrior and I was quickly overpowered." He bowed his head humbly. "I had been suffering from a cough earlier but refused to give up the chance to defend my Clan."

He was terrified. His own blood had killed his father. Then his deep anger dissipated replaced by another better feeling. "Who is this sister?" he said carefully, trying not to give away anything. Darkspots smiled grimly, as if understanding his need for revenge. "Lightstar." Patchstorm nodded slowly and they both shared smiles of pure evil.

Both stalking toward the den of Lightstar, they shared some times, Darkspots sharing his life with RiverClan, Patchstorm sharing his life without his father. It was a very good bonding but all the while, they were getting closer to their goal: vengeance.

Finally, they reached her. "Payback?" Darkspots glanced at his son to make sure he was following him. Patchstorm nodded darkly. "Payback," he growled viciously. As they entered the cave, Lightstar stirred, her long cream-colored pelt flowing in the slight breeze. Before Darkspots could give a signal or even react, Patchstorm flew in for the kill, his father watching calmly, smoothly in the background.

His son was just like him, a true murderer with the spirit of death alight in him. What Patchstorm didn't know was that they were going to have some father-son bonding.

Over Dawnheart's spilled blood.

This has nearly the same elements as the first one-shot. Not my very best work, nor is it my worst but I like the ending. The ending always has me wanting to love the one-shot. Just so y'all know, I'm going to be posting little mini reviews at the end of each chapter for each one-shot so this is not only the 100 One-Shot Challenge but also the 100 Review Challenge! Wooo! Not much comment on this one, though I do like Patchstorm's character, easygoing, sensible, a bit wiser in his older years….Of course, all that wisdom is going to be muddled by his stupid father's need for revenge. Hey, that's just my opinion. I don't like Darkspots even though I created him. I've ended up making only slightly evil endings and mysterious endings, so far so we will see what other fabulous one-shots and endings we will have. Brookie is out! Peace!