The night was dark and the Junkyard was filled with the chirping of crickets. This night was a particularly special night, although not for the reasons that one might think. For the Jellicle Moon would soon be on it's way, giving way to a Jellicle Ball. But alas, how could any cat dance at the Jellicle Ball without first engaging in a little practice?

A black-and-white tuxedo Tom stared up at the night's sky, his eyes twinkling. To him, it was the perfect night to practice the Jellicle dance.

The small cat leapt from his tunnel, soaring through the air in a fashion that only a magical cat could obtain. His face, paws, and tail shined in the moonlight, and his little black bowtie bounced along with him as he reached out to grab both feet, performing a perfect split. In an instant, he disappeared, smiling.

He was back in the tunnel now. He exploded out again, calling for all the Jellicle cats to come out and dance with him.

All was quiet.

Misto's ears twitched. He glanced towards the Nursery, where a ghost-white female had appeared, standing gracefully on her toes and reaching her hand out towards him. He smiled, and bounded towards her, his heart racing with excitement...until he realized, she wasn't looking at him. The white female was looking coyly behind him, at another figure. He turned, noting that Plato- a graceful, brown-and-white tabby Tom, was eyeing Victoria with curiousity. He dashed over to her, rubbing against her. She pulled back, seemingly frightened...but then, she was smiling. He came up to her again, purring, and they rubbed their faces against each other in the beginning of what was the pas de deux.

She pulled away from him again, teasing him, until the two laid on the floor of the Junkyard, curling themselves into a ball beside each other.

Misto blushed, moving out of the way of the two lovers, although his heart felt as though it was being torn out of his chest. For the young tuxedo Tom thought that this would be the year in which he would muster up the courage to speak to Victoria...to tell her how he felt about her, how it hurt to be around her, and how his magical tendencies flourished in her presence. How, it made him proud that she had grown to be as beautiful a Jellicle as all the rest. How he wanted to be with her for the rest of their lives.

She had done the mating dance with Plato on the last Jellicle Ball. When he saw it, he'd been too scared to tell her that he was starting to like her. Victoria was still a kitten yet, and although the mating dance had been a symbol of her growth, it was on this occasion that she had the freedom to leave the Nursery. The ghost-white female would be able to decide how she wanted to serve the Jellicles, whether it be on daily patrols, hunting, guarding, Nursery-duty, or...through bearing kittens.

Misto shook his head. They were still young yet. He still had time, didn't he?

He glanced towards the dancing couple. Victoria was laughing.

His ears laid back against his head. Perhaps not.

The black-and-white tuxedo Tom waited until the two were gone before he took to dancing again. His spirits brightened whilst standing in the moonlight. Maybe, he could call his good ole' friend, the Rum Tum Tugger, to come out and sing for him.

Oh, well, I never,

Was there ever,

A cat so clever as Magical Mr. Mistoffelees.

He waited for his leopard-spotted friend to spring out from behind a hanging sheet, yowling like old times.

A moment later, the Tugger came striding out, a smile on his face. The eager Misto followed his gaze, padding after the other Tom, until he noticed Bomba at the other end of the Junkyard.

The Tom crashed into her playfully, causing her to spook. She turned on him, hissing, yet in an instant her demeanor changed, and she was purring at him.

The Conjuring Cat frowned, realizing that his friend was ditching him for a Queen. How rude! Misto rolled his eyes. Practicing out here was just useless and depressing, what with all these lovebirds stalking out of their dens to greet their mates.

Before he left, though, he decided to take a good, long look at the moon. It was half-full; the sky was full of blazing stars. Misto watched as one falling star cascaded down from the beautiful sky, then jumped as a startling burst of yowls reached his hears.

He turned to the Nursery, his fur laying flat as he realized that it was only kitten-play. He sighed, glancing back at the moon one last time-

The Tom's eyes glazed over, turning a dark gray color. At first, he was frightened, thinking that he had suddenly gone blind. But how could that be? His magic was strong. If anything, he should've been able to make his vision stronger.

It was like being hit by lightning, this feeling that cascaded over him now. Every inch of his black-and-white fur stood out, his body splaying on the ground and jolting with a violent seizure. The Tom shut his eyes, trying to focus on the magic that was left within him. He felt like he was spinning to the point where his stomach lurched and he felt like he'd eaten a stone. Then, he opened his eyes.

He could see again, although it was with little clarity. It was like he was in a deep, dark hole. His spine tingled nervously as he realized how clastrophobic he was. So much for being a magical, flexible cat. The tuxedo Tom felt another in his presence and he turned, seeing a young black Tom tremble below him.

The cat's fur was long and stood out at awkward angles. His eyes were dull, yet filled with fear as he regarded Misto. The black-and-white Tom found this quite strange, seeing as though no cat had ever been intimidated by him. They all knew him to be their small, friendly, magical buddy who would barely hurt a fly- unless someone fooled around with one of his Jellicle pals. Then, Misto was bound to get his paws dirty.

"What's the matter?" he jumped, spooked by his own voice. He had heard that voice before, but...it couldn't be right. "What's happening?" he asked, his voice going from it's usual softness to a deep, commanding tone.

The black cat fidgeted nervously and lifted up one of his forepaws. Half his whiskers were singed off, and a snaggle-tooth poked from his upper lip.

"You said you were going to punish me, Sir."

Misto cocked his head. "Punish you? I'm not gonna-" all the air in his lungs disappeared as he caught a glimpse of his paws.

His paws were dark and long-furred, and out of them spurred long, twisted, barbary-looking claws. He jerked away from himself. Impossible.

"Oh please, Sire, do get it over wif. I really just want to go rest, you see. Not that this isn't important, it's just- oh please, Sire."

"Enough," Misto commanded. His voice was deep and booming, and carried past the cave with a deafening creak. The one that called him "Sire" a moment ago was now shaking violently. "Go on to your nest. We shall continue this later."

The young Tom fell at his claws, lapping them gratefully. "Oh, thank you Sir." Misto pulled away from him, yet the black Tom didn't seem to notice as he fled the cave, his tail between his legs.

Oh no. Misto brought his paws over his ears. Oh Heavyside, no.

"Ahem."

Misto blinked. Someone was standing close to the trench, asking to come in.

He cleared his little kitty throat, "Come in," he said.

A fiery Tom walked in, his amber eyes blazing with anger. "You didn't punish either of them?"

Misto flicked his ears, regarding the new cat's haughtiness. "I will punish who I see fit."

Suddenly, it felt like someone had zapped Misto's head. His ears rang, and his vision swirled in front of him. He no longer saw the fiery-orange Tom, or felt the strange clastrophobia of the hole, yet instead seemed to be looking upon the scene as an unknown spectator or a spy.

He gasped.

The Hidden Paw. The Nepolean of Crime. Captor of three Jellicle members- murderer of many. Macavity was sitting below him, regarding the fiery Tom from before with great interest. What's going on here?

"What's going on here, Sheni? What are you trying to do?"

"I only want to understand what you're thinking, Father. It only seems right that if I am the one leading these patrols that I should understand what's going on here." The fiery-orange cat was obviously irritated; his voice was laced with jelousy and perhaps, a bit of anger.

"I'll tell you what's going on here! You got the wrong kitten!" Macavity burst out, swiping at his son angrily. The younger male ducked, missing his father's claws, yet he seemed oddly unfased- as if his father had done this before.

"Father, I can assure you that it will not happen again..."

"It doesn't matter. No matter what we do, those bumbling Jellicles keep coming in here and stealing away what is rightfully mine! I won't take it anymore, Sheni. I can't take it anymore." The orange-and-black monster lowered his head, craning to be eye-to-eye with his son. "Sheni, I will be old soon, but you are my fountain of youth. One day, I must use my magic to make myself stronger...and to make you King of all that the Jellicles are against. But before this happens- I must get that kitten back, and keep her this time, even if it means putting an end to all of the Jellicles and their hopeless little Junkyard."

Misto placed a paw over his mouth.

His body jerked wildly. The black-and-white cat endured turmoil as his being was ripped from the scene and placed back into his body in the Jellicle Junkyard.

He panted furiously. His mouth was so dry that he felt like he was eating sandpaper. He pulled at his bowtie, feeling itchy and uncomfortable.

"Misto, are you alright?" he heard a soft, worried voice ask.

His vision flooded back to him, and he saw her standing before him in all her angelic glory- the young Victoria was staring down at him, concern glistening in her fantastic brown eyes. "Uh..." he coughed. "I'm fine, Vic, I just- really need to speak with Munkustrap, immediately!" he leapt past Victoria (and a very confused Plato) completely and utterly devoting himself to the task of finding Munkustrap. The black-and-white cat, who was usually resting on the old automobile, had apparently left to go on a patrol of sorts.

Mistoffelees burst out of the Junkyard, finding a quick route to the forest. He bounded past Tugger and Bombalurina, who were continuing their pleasantly slow walk in the crisp morning air. "Hey, Misto, is something wrong?" Tugger asked.

"I need to know if you've seen Munkustrap!" the black-and-white cat said, placing his paws on Tugger's shoudlers.

"He came right by here a little bit ago. If you hurry, you should be able to catch him."

"Do you want us to come with you?"

"No thanks!"

Bomba glanced at the Tugger, clearly puzzled. "How strange."

Tugger shrugged. "That's Misto for you."

Misto busted through the forest, catching all sorts of leaves, twigs, and sticks in his fur as he went. He paused, catching Munkustrap's scent just before he crashed into the unknowing Second-In-Command of the Jellicle Junkyard.

"Misto, what's the matter?"

The young Tom was panting now. "It's- Macavity...I saw him..."

The fur on the Second-In-Command's ruff stood up. "He's in the Junkyard!?"

"No. I saw him in a vision. I'm not even entirely sure how it happened, but one moment, I was staring at the moon, and the next- I was Macavity. Then...I listened to him talk to a cat- his son...and tell him that he needed to get Jemima. That, he needed to capture and keep her at any cost."

Munkustrap's ears twitched. "We have to get back to the Junkyard and tell the others what has happened. We have to keep them safe...can you do it again?" the black-and-white Tom asked.

"Do what?"

"See Macavity...again..."

Misto shrugged. "I don't know. I guess, if it means protecting my family, it's worth a try."