A Cat's Tale

By: Catty Engles Reporter for the Daily Gazette

Edition Sixth: The Device

I wake to the equivalent of the Macy's Thanksgiving's Day Parade marching through my head. I groan and roll over onto my back. Alive? Check. Breathing? Check. Broken? I tenderly finger a bloody knot of hair at the base of my skull and the Marching Bands squall extra loud. Broken? I ask myself again. Minorly. The next endeavor, opening my eyes. I peek cautiously out, but the dim glow of computer monitors proves too much for my eyes. It's so cold, close to freezing I'm sure.

I decide to lie on the frosty metal floor and collect my wits for a second when I feel the vibrations of footsteps and hear the dulled clacking of boots. Some instinct tells me to feign sleep. I immediately slow my breathing drastically and relax all my muscles, trying not to shiver.

"This is the girl?" It's a slow and monotone voice that had been crackly with static the last time I heard it, Slade.

"Yes, that's the Cat." I almost forget that I'm supposed to be asleep- That's Slick Boulderdash! Head of the Daily Gazette! His heavy breathing and oily way of talking are unmistakable to me now. "Pity, she had potential." Why that two-faced son-of-a-

"She has the device?" Slade interjects on my thoughts. Device? What?

"Yes, I gave it to her and explicitly told her to catch every conversation that went on inside the building. But really, why do you want-" Slick is cut short as his air pipe is cut off, or so I'm assuming from the wet gags he utters.

"Don't question me. You will get your money and be happy with it. If any funny questions are asked, I'll know who to kill."

Slick wheezes as the pressure on his air pipe is released, "Yes, boss, no questions."

"I am done with you." Slade dismisses him like the piece of dirt he is.

I concentrate fully on keeping my breathing steady and slow to take my mind off of Slick's betrayal. I'm entirely convinced that this Slade character is BAD news, and Slick sold me out to him! And then gloved fingers are probing me. I have to muster all my will-power not to tense up or throw of his hands. They start on my belly, gently patting me down, moving steadily upwards until they reach my neck. Slade opens my vest and finds what he has been looking for on the underside of my collar- the mini-recorder.

I had almost forgotten about it. Slade takes it carefully in his fingers and pulls it away from my collar. He must be fiddling with it above me for I haven't heard any footsteps move away from me. Suddenly an ear-splitting squeal issues from the thing. I can't help myself, I sit bolt upright- suddenly confronted by Slade's knee only inches from my face.

He doesn't seem to notice, but I know he did, "Hmm, too close to the human spectrum to be effective, but it does work." He turns his back to me and walks towards a huge monitor displaying a room with shattered glass littered across the sitting nook, couch, TV, Game station – I gasp. It's the room I had been in with the Titans just moments ago. Or was it hours. I check my watch. 1:12 AM. So, yes, about one hour ago.

Slade's voice interrupts my thinking, "I wanted to thank you." He says.

I give him my most disgusted look that is lost on his back, "For what?"

The piercing squeal rockets around the room a second time. I cover my ears and grit my teeth, but the metal monster doesn't seem to even flinch. "That." He says.

"What, I don't understand?" Act the blonde. Act the blonde. Act the blonde. He might buy it, you never know.

He turns and gives me a calculating look before seeming to come to an internal decision. "When you tried to interview the Titans in their home, this mini-recorder emitted a supersonic sound wave that jammed every electronical item in the T-Tower, including Cyborg. But before it jammed everything it took the digital fingerprint to each device. Now, I have no use for their microwave's fingerprint, but I can hack the other tip-of-the- knife technology the Titans have at their fingertips and turn their entire residence against them. Ingenious, eh?" He tucks the mini-recorder into his belt-pouch, looking very satisfied with himself.

He at least looks genuine. Maybe he's telling the truth. Would it even work? I don't know. The plan seems smart, and come to think of it, didn't Cyborg blow a gasket right after I turned the mini-recorder on? Then it hits me.

I might have single-handedly brought down the Teen Titans. And they will never know why. None of them even know or probably even have guessed the origin of the disturbance. I didn't, and the device was placed on my person, with my knowing. They will be forced out of their own home. Without their tower, their domicile, their base, Slade or any other villain with enough ambition can pick them off easy. I've killed the Titans, or at least made them simple prey.

Slade watches the change of emotions plain on my face with growing delight. When I've reached my most horrified and enraged expression, he snaps his fingers and two robot guards take both of my elbows. Crazy thoughts begin to chase themselves around my head. I could jump Slade, I could take him. No- I couldn't, I'm 90 pounds and with the muscle tone of a four-year-old. I can see his biceps bulging even under all that uniform.

Whoosh. Bang. And I'm surrounded by the metal bars of a cage.

Loyal reviewers, I thank thou profusely. Without thee, thy story would be naught but dust 'twixt thy keyboard.