(Part two)
Well, you've probably guessed by now. Yes, it was me who killed the cat, me who left her violated body outside the gate, and me who left pawprints in her blood. (Though the last one was certainly unintentional ... I meant for brother dearest to find her much later today...) If you haven't guessed my true self by now, let me tell you that you must be the most foolish human to ever live, so I simply must tell you.

I am Macavity.

"But wait!" you say. "I thought this was Plato!" And you would be right. I am Plato as well. But I was Macavity first. First and foremost, I should say, though lately I have been wondering. In reality, Plato is simply a persona I created to allow me into the junkyard without raising alarms. It's all done with magic, quite simply, really.

You see, there really is a reason Demeter darling is so paranoid. She may not consciously know it, but I think there is something about a magical tom raping a queen that leaves her with a sense of when he is around; don't ask me to explain it, I've never encountered it with anyone else before. Maybe she is just very sensitive. But she can tell when I change back and forth between forms. Of course, she always cries out, which forces me to either change somewhere else (which I'd rather not do, so that Plato does not become known in the circle of theives I frequent), or to get out of the junkyard very quickly.

Though lately ... I have been wondering. Who am I, really? My most analytical and diabolical self would tell me what I should know to be true: I am Macavity. But then, I look at what I have, what I've found. Evilness ... isn't all it's cracked up to be. Sure, I have henchcats at my beck and call, I have hordes of catnip stored away, and all the cats whose wicked deeds are widely known are nothing more than my agents. But, there's something else in life. Something I miss as the Napoleon of Crime. It's here, in the junkyard. It's right here, and I've found it.

Still, there are aspects of my life of crime I can never give up. Thieving, raping, murdering without consequence ... it's all too irresistible! Why anyone would not want to give into anarchy is beyond me. Whyever worry about doing "the right thing" when you can do whatever you want and get away with it? There's so much out there, just waiting, wanting to be taken! With magic, it's even simpler! There is nothing to stop me, no one that can stop me! The Jellicles are the most foolish cats that ever lived! Taking in others into their tribe? Risking their lives for cats they have never even met! They are fools! They simply ask to be broken!

But you know that's not true, Plato whispers in my head. You know you love living in the junkyard. You enjoy having friends who would risk their lives for yours, just as you would for them. You care about these cats. Moreover, you care for Victoria. You would do anything to protect her.

Foolishness, Macavity yells back. Only a fool would risk his life for another cat! In this world, it's hunt or be hunted, eat or be eaten! You're only fooling yourself to think that you could really care for another cat! You know if you were in danger, you would protect yourself and spare no one!

What in the world have I done to myself?

I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy...


"Macavity?"

"What do you want?" I answer, startled and confused.

Alonzo gives me an odd look. "I was just saying, maybe it was Macavity who killed the queen out by the gate. I wan't talking to you." Then he sees that I'm trembling. "Are you all right, Plato?"

I stand up shakily and say, "I need to go." I ignore the protests of Alonzo that I don't look so good and of Munkustrap that I need to stay and listen to the new guard assignments. I just need time alone.

I can't keep this up, I think as I head back across the junkyard to my den. It has to end. Voices battle inside my head. It's crazy. I can't let it continue. I have to choose one life or another.

But by now, I've gotten myself so deeply rooted in both lives that it would be impossible to choose. On one paw, I could give up Macavity and live as Plato, just a normal, unassuming tom, living in a happy little junkyard, without a care in the world, surrounded by friends who love him. But if I did that, the entire hierarchy of the feline criminal world would break down. I'm the only thing that keeps most of those cats from warring and ruining the city top to bottom. They know if they invaded my territory, they would have me to deal with. If I were to suddenly disappear, cats from all over England would move in, and there would be terrible fights, threatening the safety of me and mine even if I gave up crime.

On the other paw, I could go back to how I was before. It would be easy. Simply disappear from the junkyard forever. But I couldn't do that. The fools would search for me, not knowing that the cat they know as Plato does not even exist. I could stage my death, but then what would happen to Victoria? She loves me too much. I couldn't do that to her.

Come on, why not, Macavity asks. She means nothing. Simply one more queen. You've taken so many before. She is no different.

But you love her, Plato says calmly. She is different. You know she means something to you. She's no whore, or prostitute to be taken. She's so innocent!

Innocence is asking to be shattered. There's a real world out here.

But she's not in that world. She lives in a sheltered junkyard.

So what? All the more reason to crack her shell.

"Plato?"

"WHAT?" I cry, startled.

Victoria looks at me with confusion and concern in her eyes. "Is something wrong?"

I moan and put my paws to my temples, trying to soothe a raging headache. I'm so wrapped up in my own mental torture that I don't notice I've arrived inside the den. "Nothing's wrong, Victoria. I –" but I stop. Squinting, I look at her more closely. There's something wrong with her, but I can't quite tell what it is. "Are you all right?" I ask abrubtly.

Her eyes narrow in concern. "No, I'm quite fine. Are you sure you're – " but I cut her off with a wave of my paw. There is definitely something wrong with her, maybe something she doesn't know about...

Utilizing years of practice, I draw on my power to change only Plato's eyes into those of Macavity. His magical vision is so much better than Plato's, and Victoria won't notice something so simple as a change in my eye color. I blink as the tiny bit of magic in all things comes into focus. Then I turn to gaze at Victoria.

I draw my next breath sharply. Her aura, normally a swirly magenta to my magical vision, is interrupted by two new ginger-colored swirls, focused around her midsection.

She's carrying my kittens.


It can't go on! It can't go on, I mentally scream at myself as I almost fly out the entrance to the den, ignoring Victoria's protests. It's gone on far too long! Now look what you've done! She's going to have your kittens, and you can't even stay in the junkyard half the time to raise them. They'll find out! Kittens make you keep long hours. And you won't be able to stay in the junkyard all the time! She'll find out! Your kittens will find out! You can't let them know! You're not good enough for them! You can't give them everything they need! You have a whole other life to live!

Who cares what kittens need? Since when have you cared for anyone but yourself!

What about what Victoria needs? Does she need kittens? Moreover, does she need kittens who would take after you! They'll torture her to no end when you're gone.

Good! It'll wake her up to the real world. She'll need a little wake-up call once you're gone!

I trip running, started by the realization of what both my inner mental torturers have agreed upon. I have to leave. I can't stay in the junkyard. There's no way I can keep up the facade here and still keep relative peace in the criminal world. And I can't keep leaving in the middle of the night for much longer; she'll find out once she starts waking up in the middle of the night to tend to kittens! My enemies would love to know I have kittens. They'd use them to try to get to me!

How could your enemies possibly find out you have kittens!

They will! They already suspect you do something suspicious during the day! You know that's why that queen followed you to the junkyard gate! You had to kill her because she would have brought back information to her master about where you were. They already know something is up! It's only a matter of time before they discover your kittens! You have to go! What's more, if you stay in the junkyard, the empire will crumble, and London will be reduced to rubble. Then what will happen to Victoria then? You can't let that happen to her! Not when she has so much to live for.

But there's still something that screams at me for deciding this way. Who cares about Victoria? Macavity screams at me. You need to leave the junkyard for yourself. Victoria is worthless. You should have never taken her as a mate. You should have simply taken her!

I writhe on the ground as voices argue in my head. I don't know who I am anymore! There are two completely different cats inside me, each arguing for his own way. What have I done to myself?

I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy...

Then again ... there is always compromise.


One month later

"Victoria?" I whisper as I slowly open the door to her cell.

She moans as she lies on the ground on the other side of the room, her belly swollen with my kittens. She opens her eyes slowly and sees me. "Plato? Is that you?" she croaks.

I scamper to her side and nuzzle her cheek. "Don't worry, everything's going to be all right," I whisper.

She nuzzles back, though weakened by her stay in my headquarters. "Plato! It's been so long since I've seen you! Are you going to be able to get me out of here?" she asks.

I shake my head. "The other Jellicles gave up long ago. They were sure you'd been killed. They wouldn't even let me out to try to find you. And Macavity won't let you go now. He has you."

Well, it is true.

end