DISCLAIMER: Lady and the Tramp, 101 Dalmatians, and their universes belong to Disney. Any character, setting, etc. belongs to Disney.

Chapter 4- She Strikes Again

She sat on an old stool in her grimy jail cell, moodily looking out as she stuck her bony face through the iron bars, staring at her other inmates in their cells. The thought of being stuck in jail electrified her with fury, which was the only emotion she was able to feel for months. After all, she was so much more than one of those rotten thugs who lived in the other jail cells, for she was a criminal mastermind who could come up with the most devious of plans.

She growled to herself, "Those cops think they've seen the last of me…"

But while she wished for those words to be true, she was still stuck in prison for eight long months. None of the cops paid any attention to her words, and when they actually acknowledged that they heard her, none of them took her seriously. After all, so many prisoners have threatened revenge, yet most of them wouldn't have dared to carry their threats out.

Every day to stir up her anger and to keep her active mind busy, she read the newspaper. Her favorite section of the newspaper was the crime section. These stories about the local crimes in town entertained her because of how stupid and unambitious these criminals were. They usually were involved in minor charges like shoplifting and vandalism. Even though occasionally there were cases of larger crimes like murder, these criminals, even the murderers, were usually caught in broad daylight and made several blunders in the conduct of their crimes. After she finished reading the newspapers, she crumpled and threw them into the back corner of her cell, which by now had a large pile of accumulated papers. But she kept two newspapers with her at all times, the two newspapers that defined her life and who she was. One paper was the one showcasing the headline of fifteen dalmatian puppies being declared missing, her greatest accomplishment, and the other was the one announcing that after her greatest criminal act of all, she was caught and arrested. One brought feelings of triumph, and the other brought feelings of outrage.

With nothing else to do, she turned once again to reading those newspapers with a feeling of nostalgia and anger in her boiling up with every word. She was so, so close. If her stupid minions actually did their jobs properly and killed those rotten puppies when they were supposed to, she would've wound up with some beautiful fur coats. Not only that, but she would have been able to continue making them, and each new coat would have been lovelier than the last. But this was not to be, due to the work of her stupid minions, she would never be able to get her dream coats, not to mention that her coat that she was wearing on the day of her arrest was taken by the police with a promise that they would raid her closet and remove all of her other fur coats too. And her ninety-nine puppies that she carefully collected, stopping from pet store to pet store to find, patiently and slowly scheming to obtain them all, all that effort, those weeks of preparation, was all lost when those parents of some of those puppies and a mangy tabby cat came in and helped them escape. Her minions, who were supposed to deal with the puppies, couldn't even stop a pair of mangy travel-worn dogs from escaping and leading her ninety-nine puppies away. "You idiots!" she thought, remembering her minions and their stupid, pathetic faces.

The two of them managed to get out of jail on a technicality. In a rare moment of inspiration, they cleverly told the judge that she was making them steal the puppies by threatening them with death. She only wished they were as clever when they were stealing the puppies as they were then when their own necks were on the line. She didn't know if the judges would see through such an obvious lie, but they acted like they didn't. The judge was soft enough to only give them a month's service in jail. But unlike them, she, the mastermind, was stuck in her cell for a lifetime of jail service, where even the other prisoners, recognizing her for being in that stupid song, made fun of her. For all she knew, she would never escape.

She sighed and drew out her long cigarette and smoked in the dingy jail. Nowadays, she smoked more than ever since she had nothing else to do in the cramped, cold, and thoroughly uncomfortable jail. Sitting on her stool, she thought of how much she would love to get back at those rotten puppies, or those policemen. "How much would I give to make another fur coat…and get my revenge once and for all," she thought miserably as she looked down at her measly little jail gown. The thought of revenge was all that empowered her as she hopelessly stared at her miserably bleak surroundings.

And once again, as he did day after day, the supervisor came in to the jail to deliver the food and newspapers to all the inmates. The supervisor soon opened her door for her portion. Stepping on a few papers that she read a few days ago, she collected her rations of moldy bread and rainwater and picked up her newspaper. She quickly ate the measly portions of bread and drank the rainwater. After all, she might as well enjoy the taste while it lasted. Then she looked down at the paper and gasped when she saw the cover page. She knew at once that this paper was not one for her to throw aside after a few minutes like all of its predecessors. Instead, she carefully looked at the front page, her eyes bulging with fury as she took in every word.

Reading in outrage, she noticed the cover read, "Local Dalmatian Plantation Puppies On Show!" She noticed a large picture on the front, where her old school friend Anita happily hugged her dog as his husband hugged his. Roger and Anita were the owners who took all of her puppies away from her! And sure enough, standing in front of them were five young Dalmatians, all playing happily together in front of their parents, and all adorning five familiar red and blue collars.

Her hands shook and she grabbed the paper in outrage and continued to read.

"In London, popular musician Roger Radcliff, composer of the hit song "Cruella de Vil", has decided to embark in another adventure in his distinguished career: this time to compete in a dog show in the United States! The owners of the Dalmatian plantation will be leaving with their famous parent dogs Pongo and Perdita, and of course their dog show contestants, Pongo and Perdita's puppies, Lucky, Penny, Rolly, Cadpig, and Patch to the show. There they will be judged on posture, beauty, and breed standards. The show will take place in a week starting at 8 am in Connecticut, which means the show will be live on television at 1 pm in London."

She reread the paper, taking in the key aspects of the story. She learned that her hated Roger and Anita were going to the United States where they were planning to show their puppies, and found out that the show would only be in a week's time. She paused with the thought. A liberating feeling flowed through her mind. How perfect would it be to start her fur coat collection all over again by stealing the puppies that locked her in jail in the first place!

She sat on her stool and thought for a moment, tapping her cigarette on her chin on how exactly she would set her plan in motion. Smiling wickedly, and plotting hurriedly, she decided. It had to be tonight. The sooner she got started, the better. She knew that not many prisoners break out of jail. But she knew that she, unlike the other thugs in her dingy prison, was clever enough to find a way out of there.

Pausing, she watched the jail supervisor take care of the other inmates, who were reaching for their daily rations of food and newspapers. Then she noticed the pile of crumpled newspapers in her jail cell. And then, she came up with an idea, as she always did. She smiled to herself confidently. Then, she quietly reached out, grabbed a newspaper and lit in on fire with her cigarette lighter.

She cackled quietly to herself, and then hurriedly threw the newspaper onto the pile of papers. At once the papers caught fire, and the fire began to spread quickly through the cell. The smoke was beginning to leave the jail cell, and at last, the police guard noticed it. It was all too easy!

"Fire!" she screamed, pretending to sound anguished and horrified, jumping up and down and rattling the bars in a frenzy. "There's a fire!" she wailed even louder.

The fire continued to grow, and an orange glow soon illuminated the jail from her cell. Hurriedly, the supervisor realized what was happening. He rushed to her jail cell. Then he unlocked her cell, and she was pulled out. She smirked in triumph when she took her first steps out of that jail cell in months! After putting the fire out, the jail cell was blackened and heavily damaged.

"That was a close one, miss," the supervisor sighed. "Now we don't know where to put you…"

But she smiled straight at the jailer. "I don't think you need to put me anywhere."

"What do you mean?" the jailer asked, confused, but by then, it was too late. In a flash, she got out her cigarette lighter, and lit the paper that featured her jailing on fire. She lobbed it hurriedly at the jailer, and he gasped and toppled over. He was knocked out. Then, smirking, she ran out of the jail's still open front door while the other criminals gasped with amazement.

Running at breakneck speed, she grinned to herself with delight as she ran through the streets and the jail cell grew further and further out of sight. Cackling in triumph, a feeling of elation had finally crept over her, which she never felt in her eight months of miserable confinement. At last, she was free, and there was nothing that the police could do about it!