A/N: It gets a little nasty in this chapter, but not too bad. As Chimalmaht knows, I am not holding my writing back because of "inappropriate language." There's nothing too bad here, but it's definitely not school appropriate (at least in Jr. High).
I heard a soft rustling behind me, breaking the spell the stars had over me. Checking behind me, I saw Munkustrap softly walking to the top of the junk pile I was sitting on. Laying down beside me, he stared at the full moon. After a few minutes, he turned and looked at me right in the eyes. His face expressed questioning, concern, and protectiveness.
"What did you mean, when you said you would take care of him?"
"I meant what I said. I can take care of this Macavity cat. No problem." I replied as calmly as I could. I went through this at every tribe I had ever visited. It's always easiest to go through this when your calm and collected.
"Apparently you don't know Macavity."
"Who, you mean the Napoleon of Crime, the Hidden Paw, the list goes on Munkustrap. I know what to expect. Trust me." I said, trying to make it seem like I did this sort of thing everyday. It was really about every month.
"How can I trust you? You just got here today! I've been dealing with Macavity my entire life, I know what he's like. You don't." Munkustrap said, with a hint of anger and frustration. I turned to him, and removed all expression of joking and playfulness, replacing it with seriousness somewhat reminiscent of Munkustrap's current expression.
"I do!" I snapped at him, catching him off guard. "I've been living my entire life on the streets, fighting cats like him. Being constantly chased by gangs of cats, it makes you tough. Unfortunately, my brother wasn't tough enough and was caught and killed by a crime lord aptly named Bloodlust. He was the big time- he killed around twenty cats every night, either by kitnapping, assassination, poison, or any other kind of death. I watched him actually drink the blood of my brother." I shivered at this memory. I had told very few cats about my brother's death, but this cat's character seemed to exude the knowledge of many a secret that he would rather die than give away. I continued in a much calmer voice. "After a few years of fighting for survival, I was finally able to take my revenge. The only way I'm alive today is by getting rid of cats like Bloodlust, and in return, I get to stay at whatever tribe I'm near. So you'll just have to trust me that I can take care of this Macavity cat." I returned my gaze to the stars, trying not to visualize Bloodlust killing my brother. Munkustrap sat silent for a few minutes.
"Why would you do this for us then? We offered you shelter and food for free, but you just said that you killed that kind of cat only for those things."
"I dunno, I guess I just like this place. It's the first place I've ever been where the cats are actually generous, and their kits trust anyone they meet." I thoughtfully replied. I didn't want to tell him that killing crime lords was a job I did with a feeling close to passion. Sometimes I would tell myself that it was for my brother, other times, like now, it felt almost like an addiction. I didn't like the thought of being addicted to murder; it made me as low as those I killed. Munkustrap wasn't done questioning me though, and continued his little interview.
"So who was your brother? Where were your parents?" I was getting really tired of these questions, but I knew that this tom wouldn't leave me alone until they were answered. Sighing, I responded.
"My brother, who's name was Mars, was a ginger-colored cat with a long black mane that stuck out everywhere. Never met my dad, but my mother's name was Griddlebone. She ran off with a bravo cat named Growltiger. I have no idea whether either of my parents are alive or not." I had never really given much thought to who my father was before, and kinda hoped that he was a decent cat.
"Your dad is definitely alive and well." Munkustrap told me with such hate and malice that I actually drew away from him. I tried to look him in the eyes, but his were focused solely on the junkyard. "He is none other than Macavity himself. You had better leave before the other Jellicles find out; they would go crazy if they found out that Macavity's own flesh and blood has been offered a place in the tribe." Once again, I lost all composure as an astounding revelation took hold of me. Macavity, a crime lord... my father? It just couldn't be possible. I turned my gaze to the stars and took several deep breaths to steady myself. How could Griddlebone, my mother whom I thought had come from a pretty respectable life, have given birth to his kittens. I felt dirty, knowing that I was the daughter of the kind of cat I've been trying to eradicate from the face of the Earth.
"Do they have to find out?" I asked in a small, quiet voice, a tone I hadn't used in Bast knows how long.
"Everyone here knows that Griddlebone used to be Macavity's whore. You look exactly like your mother, and right now the Jellicles are assuming that you are the daughter of Growltiger. They will rip you to shreds if they find out otherwise." Munkustrap replied in a cold voice. I assumed that it was the fact that I actually told him that I had no idea who my father was that kept him from trying to kill me. Nonetheless, his voice was hard with restrained anger.
"How do you know that Macavity's my father?" I asked, praying that it could only be a mistake.
"Because Macavity's a ginger cat, with a wild black mane. Just like your brother. I'll see what I can do about keeping this a secret, but someone's always listening around here." He chuckled to himself at this comment. I didn't see what was so funny. "I'd give it about a week before the entire tribe knows." He added as an afterthought, but implied that I may stay until then. That was fine by me, I wasn't planning on actually staying here too long anyway. Sometimes I preferred the cold, harsh, and brutal reality of the streets to places like this. Too happy and peppy; it made me sick after a while, knowing what truly went on beyond these walls. Like they say: 'ignorance is bliss.' Knowing what I knew, I would never experience the blissful innocence that these Jellicles enjoyed. I nodded my head in thanks, both for his warning and for the hospitality, despite my bloodlines.
I don't know when Munkustrap left, but I soon found myself alone on top of the pile of junk. I began to wonder if it was my connection with Macavity that influenced my seeming addiction to killing those who I was after. For the first time in my life, I wondered if my reasons for killing was actually justified. A life is a life, no matter how undeserving the holder of the life was. Yet, if they took another's life, does that mean that they forfeit their own? I had always known that killing was wrong, but I seemed to do it all the time. Upon reflection, I discovered that I myself had killed over twenty cats in the past year alone. Did that make me the same as those whom I killed? I killed them because they had killed lots of others. But killing is killing, no matter what the reasons are. Or is it the way that you kill, as long as it's for the good of all, that justifies the means? But then, which is more cruel: a rather slow and painful death through fighting, where the target may still come out alive, or a quick death through assassination, in which the target has no chance to defend themselves? And what would justify killing through fighting? Or Assassination? All these questions just confused me, because I was used to doing what I had to do for survival. Sighing, I turned my mind to another topic, although it only raised more questions.
If there was any belief that I had devoted my life to, it was that killing your own family was the worst crime that could be committed. But, I had promised Old Deuteronomy that I would kill Macavity. Would I, or even, could I go against the one belief that had held all of my morals together, and kill my own father? Could I even call him my father, since I had never actually met or seen him? But he is still my family, and for all I know, the only living member apart from myself. I had made a promise, and to me, breaking a promise is also one of the worst things ever to be done. Although it may not cause physical harm, it does ample emotional harm. And it leads a cat to never trust you again. Which brought me back to the question: Should I kill my own father? Either way I went, I would be breaking a strong value of mine.
And what would I do about the Jellicles? I may have been thrown out of a lot of tribes, but none were like this one. Once I got too old to be a street cat, I could see my self settling down in a tribe like this. Maybe even get myself an owner, and live out the rest of my years in safety and comfort. That last part repulsed me; I had always been a wanderer. Partly because I did love to experience danger. But, I had also lived my life trying to pursue that safe place to spend my days.
I shook my head, hard. I never had thought this much about something in my life. Living in the streets taught me to worry about what I'll be eating at my next meal, not to dive into the philosophical world. That was for old wise cats, like Deuteronomy. Still, I had some shred of decency in the morals that I supported. Now they were being challenged, and either way I went, I would be shattering my own morals. Deciding not to worry about it until later (quite honestly, my brain was starting to hurt from all the thinking I was doing), I figured that it would be easier to sort out after a good night's sleep.
A/N: Hoped you liked it! And, as always, please review. Now that I think about it, the word 'whore' was the only thing making this inappropriate, at my school at least. I don't know about high-school writing (although in only a few months, I'll be going to one), but I would be sent to the counselors for that word alone. Oh well, that's why I'm publishing this on the internet, not school.