(Frank's POV)
It's been ten minutes since I found out that the Cat – the crime-fighter that MI9 have been trying to catch for years – is no other than my girlfriend, Jenny Brownstone. Rose and Carrie were just as shocked as I was when I told them, as well as Oscar who didn't believe it at first, until he saw the look on my face. Stark was shocked, but very peeved off when Rose told him that she got away. He was about to blow his top off when the team yelled at him to cut me some slack and not to blame me for letting the Cat – or Jenny – go. I mean it's not every day you find out that someone you cared about is someone who dons on a cat-themed costume to fight crime. So rather than yelling at me to oblivion, Stark casts a dirty scowl at me and gets on the phone to enlist every agent and SWAT officer available to do a wide-scale city search for the Cat, as well as having them at every bus terminal, train station and airport in the capital in case she tries to escape.
In that time, I've been staring into space in such a daze. I can't believe that the Cat was someone I cared about – someone I trusted. She was staring at me in the face this whole time. I think about all the excuses that Jenny came up with when she cancelled our dates and the lies she came up with as to why she sustained the injuries she got. They all lead to one answer – the Cat. This also explains why she dumped me and why she didn't fight back when I confronted her at the sewers.
I jump a mile when I see a hand waving in my face. It's Carrie.
"Oh, sorry, Carrie," I say. "Any news on Je… I mean, the Cat?"
She doesn't say anything. Instead, she gets her arms around me and hugs me.
"Carrie, wha…?" I start.
"I'd figured you could do with one of these right now," she says, hugging me tightly.
I hug her back. "Thanks."
"Who would've thought that the Cat was someone we knew? Someone who was our friend? Your girlfriend?"
"Yeah," I sigh.
Carrie pulls back. "I know what I'll be asking will be stupid but… how are you feeling right now?"
"I'm pretty much feeling the same way Jen felt when she found out I was a spy – upset, confused, surprised and shocked."
"You're not angry at her for lying to you?"
"If I was, I'd be the biggest hypocrite there is because I lied to her as well."
"Do you… do you still like her?"
I hesitate. "I-I don't know. Maybe. I mean despite the fact that she's supposed to be the… how I meant to describe her. Is she an ally or the enemy?"
"I'd say both – she's our frenemy. Someone who really is a friend but is also a rival. As Jenny, she's our friend, but when she's the Cat, she's our enemy."
"Huh. Well, given the circumstances of everything that's happened, I still… I still hold a torch for her. I still think Jen and I can be together, despite the fact that she's a… frenemy. Sounds stupid, doesn't it?"
Carrie shakes her head. "Not in the slightest."
I smile. "Thanks, Carrie."
I glance up to find Rose standing in the doorway.
"We have to go – now. Stark has got wind on Jenny," says Rose. "She's at London City Airport."
Carrie and I follow Rose out of the Bank of England and into the black car that's waiting for. After we get in, the driver pulls the car out of the kerb and takes to the airport.
xxoOoxx
We arrive at London City Airport nearly half an hour later. Stark gets the SWAT team to cover all exits around the airport, while the rest of us head for the airport lounge where Jen – or the Cat – is said to be at. When we get there, we find that no-one, other than the bartenders, are in the lounge.
"Dammit!" Stark mutters angrily. "Where could she have got to now?"
"Would passengers for flight NY100 please come to gate number three for boarding," announces the tannoy.
Suddenly, the red dot on everyone's Spy-Pod's starts to move. Jen/the Cat is heading for gate number three.
"Let's go!" says Stark.
We race through the lounge to gate three, where there is a crowd of passengers waiting to get on their plane. Stark gets two of the SWAT officers to block the gate as the rest of us work through the crowd to find Jen. After a few minutes, Stark comes across a middle-aged man, who is big and jolly with a red beard like a Viking. When the rest of us approach him, the red dot on our Spy-Pods blinks rapidly.
"Going somewhere?" says Stark.
"Oh aye," says the man in a broad Scottish accent. "I'm heading to New York."
"Wrong answer. You're heading to jail. Finally, after all these years, I can finally say 'You're under arrest, Cat'."
"Cat? Who is this Cat? My name's Mitchell MacNeal."
"And I'm Johnny Depp. Cut the crap, Cat. Your disguise is not fooling anyone – from that disgusting beard to that hideous Scottish accent."
"I beg your pardon?!"
"Um, sir…" says Rose.
"After all these years of getting ahead of us, solving our cases and sweeping in to grab the credit, I can finally rip off that stupid mask of yours and show the world who you really are!" says Stark as he tries to remove Mitchell's beard.
"Argggghhhhh! What are you doing?! Stop! Stop tugging my beard! You're gonna rip it off my face!" Mitchell screams in agony, but Stark keeps pulling the beard.
"Stark? Stark! I think you should stop," I say. "I think possibly – possibly – that might be a real beard."
Stark freezes. He looks to Mitchell, whose eyes begin to water, his face is flushed red and he's sweating in agony. Stark immediately lets go of Mitchell's beard.
"Ah, me poor beard," Mitchell gasps. He glares in at Stark, an ugly, menacing scowl on his face. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, ya fuckin' lunatic?!" he yells.
"S-s-s-sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry about that, sir," Stark stammers, hiding behind me. "I-I-I… I thought you were the Cat."
"Oh, he's the Cat all right," says Rose. She holds up a cat head-shaped device. "This was planted in Mr. MacNeal's hand luggage."
I examine the device. "It looks like a small electronic tracer – designed to allow the Cat to track objects or individuals," I say. "She must have planted this tracker on MacNeal to make us think that she was here."
"Wow. Even as a fugitive, she still knows how to make MI9 look like idiots," says Oscar.
"So, if Jenny's not here, where is she?" says Carrie.
The Cheeky Girls' Cheeky Song starts to play. Stark fishes out his phone.
"Stark," he answers. "What? When was this? Yes, of course, Ma'am." Stark presses the end button and pockets his phone.
"Sir? Is everything all right?" Oscar asks.
He clears his throat. "That was the Head of MI9," says Stark. "She just told me that the Cat… has handed herself in."
My eyes widen. "What? When?"
Stark looks at his watch. "About ten minutes ago."
"I… I don't get it," says Carrie. "She turned herself in? Why?"
"It's simple, really. She wanted to distract MI9 by letting us think that she was leaving the country," Rose explains. "When in reality, she handed herself in so she didn't want to face any of us, in particular, Frank."
"We need to head to HQ – now," I say.
The team and I, along with Stark and the SWAT team rush out of the airport and jump into the vans and cars parked outside. The vehicles back out from the kerb, taking a while to get out of the airport. Then we turn the car onto Hartmann Road, and head west towards Thames House.
xxoOoxx
Forty-five minutes later, we arrive outside MI9 headquarters. I leap out of the car before the driver can properly park the car and dash inside the building. I head straight for the elevator and continuously pressing the buttons for any of the elevator doors to open. I hear footsteps behind me. It's Rose, Carrie and Oscar, along with Stark. They arrive the same time one of the elevators open the doors. We all pile inside and I press the 'LG' button, as that's where the cells are.
The lift swoops down faster than my stomach can cope. That's why I suddenly feel so weird. I get this feeling that the walls of the lift are pressing in on me, squashing me up so small I can't breathe. But the moment is gone when I step out of the lift and run down the corridor and around the corner, where the Head of MI9 is standing outside one of the cell doors. I skid to a halt in front of her, gasping for breath.
"Are you all right, Frank?" the Head asks.
"I'm… fine," I gasp.
More footsteps sound behind me. The others have caught up.
"I take you're here to see the Cat," says the Head. "Or Jenny as you call her."
"Yes!" we all call out.
"Well, I'm afraid you can't."
My face immediately falls. "What? No. No, please, Ma'am. Please, you have to let me see her," I plead.
"I wasn't the one who decided this. It was Miss Brownstone. She requested that you five are forbidden to see or speak to her – specifically you, Frank."
"Bu-bu-but I have to see her. I have to talk to her. I'm her boyfriend!"
"I'm sorry, but it's not happening."
"But, Ma'am…"
"Frank, if you care about this girl, I suggest you respect her decision."
I open my mouth to speak, but I can see there's no point in arguing. And the Head is right, I do care about Jen – I have to respect her decision. With the bow of my head, I turn and trudge to the elevator without another word.
As I'm waiting for the lift, I take out my phone and open up the selfie photo I looked at a few hours ago. I think about all our times together, all the things we've whispered and promised to each other and all the kisses – and how special they were. I stare at my phone, thinking about those times. I don't know I'm crying until the tears start hitting the screen of my phone.
Back in July, Jen and I were in love. We were going to go out for ever and ever, maybe even to the point where I wanted to propose to her. I'll present to her a platinum and diamond engagement ring during a candle-lit dinner in Paris and I'm guaranteed that she'll say yes. We were gonna have a big, lavish white wedding, in St Paul's Cathedral, with white doves flying out of a three-tiered cake and the photographer telling us to say cheese and we'll honeymoon in the most exotic place – Mauritius, Barbados or the Seychelles. Then a year or two after we got married, we'll have kids – two or three, I haven't decided. We'll have a big beautiful house in the countryside, with a large garden for the kids to play in. And then when the kids have grown up and moved out to lead their own lives, Jen and I was gonna spend our golden years travelling. Australia, India, America – visit every country around the world as we drink champagne and cruise into the sunset…
But that's not gonna happen now, is it? Not when she's behind bars and she doesn't want to see me. Or talk to me.
Why didn't Jen want to see me? Is she scared that I'll hate her? Yell at her? Because I can't. I won't. Not when I'm still in love with her. I still see her as the girl who took my breath away when I saw her for the first time. She's still the girl I spent months pining over, who I had my first kiss with, who told me… she loved me.
When the elevator doors open, I drag myself and my heavy heart into the lift. As soon as the doors close, I have a long private weep.
The girl, Jenny Brownstone, a.k.a., the Cat, who I wanted to spend my future with, is now gone for good.
(Jenny's POV)
It's nearly an hour and a half when we arrive at the Bank of England.
"Here we are," Victor says.
I sit stiffly against the door, my stomach so knotted it hurts. Ahead of me lies the central bank of the UK that holds the custodian of gold reserves, as well as the person disguised as me who wants to steal the gold and of course, MI9 – the agents that consist of Frank, Rose, Carrie and Oscar who want to stop the impostor. I catch myself in the rear-view mirror, looking pale and nervous. This has never happened before. Maybe it's the thought of being in the same room with my ex and three of my students that's making me anxious.
OK, Jen, calm down – just take a deep breath, I tell myself. The sooner you stop this impostor and their bank heist without being caught yourself, the sooner you can turn in the gadgets and jump ship, and never look back.
"Jenny," Victor turns to me, "you OK?"
I nod. "Yeah. Yeah, just a tad nervous, but I'm good," I tell him. "So, er, how am I getting in? I can hardly go through the front door, can I?"
"Back when I was a cat burglar, there was a story that the Bank of England once had a sewer directly under its bullion vault. In 1836, a sewer worker discovered an opening into the vault, but stole nothing – and was rewarded for his honesty."
"You mean I have to go through the sewers to a supposedly long-lost tunnel that's under the bank vaults?"
"I'm afraid it's the only way."
I sigh. "OK, fine. So, how are we doing th–?"
A hole in the floor of the car opens to reveal a circular manhole hatch on the road.
"While you were daydreaming, Zeke sent me a map of the nearest sewers that run under the Bank of England – and the nearest one is Walbrook," says Victor. "It'll take you three minutes from here to the Bank if you walk or in your case less than a minute because of your Jetpack Backpack."
"Cool. Let's do this." I slip my communicator onto my wrist and change into my catsuit, along with mask and cat ears. "Thanks for dropping me off, Vic," I say, packing away the Super Sticky Bubble Gum and putting on my Backpack.
"No problem." Victor gives me a thumbs-up. "Good luck."
I smile in response and open up the cover of the manhole. Taking a deep breath, I dive in. And like a cat, I land on my feet, not even tottering in spite of my high heels – though I am knocked for six when the familiar sweet fetid fragrance of a thousand toilets, washing machines, bath tubs and kitchen sinks fill my nostrils.
"Oh God, this is disgusting!" I groan, covering my nose.
I set off down the pavement of the tunnel. As I walk through the twists and turns of the brick tunnel, I discover that underground springs apparently flow in the area, and feed into the Walbrook despite the tunnel that now surrounded it. Streams of water come through the brick walls. Some trickle down the sides and others have been forced to spew out between bricks like fountains. There is no way to stay dry as I pass through the tunnel, but I do my best to dodge the water that drips from the ceiling, spurts from the walls, and splashes up from the sewage.
And speaking of sewage water, I look to the bilious green-brown sewer and see something recognizable: tampons, condoms, maxi-pads (sanitary towels), streamers of half-disintegrated toilet paper, and the occasional turd bobbing in the water. Along the edge of the flow, small families of swollen sanitary mice gathering around hulking lumps of fissured faecal debris, their blood stained bodies bathing in vile yellow-brown run-off while their twisted cotton tails flails in the water which threatens to pluck them off the sidelines.
"God, I hope this mission is worth it," I say to myself.
After what feels like an eternity walking through the tunnel, I come across something a short distance away from me – a footbridge! I squint to see people coming out of another tunnel on the opposite side of the river, carrying large brown sacks. They step down the footbridge, laying the sacks by the foot of the stairs. Then they go back up the footbridge and into the tunnel they came out from. Looks like I've found the long-forgotten tunnel to the bank vault.
"Activate cloaking device," I say to the communicator. My body becomes invisible and I carry on down the tunnel.
When I reach the footbridge, I bring out the Super Sticky Bubble Gum and unwrapping the packet, I pop the Gum in my mouth and start chewing.
"God, these gold bars are heavy!" I hear someone complain. "I'm gonna put my back out any minute. How much do these bars weigh?"
"Agent Esmé says that each bar weighs around thirteen kilograms or two stone," says another voice.
Agent Esmé? Who's she?
My question is answered when the two people I heard talking come out from the tunnel carrying the sacks containing the gold bars. One has brown hair, the other with copper-coloured hair. The two men are wearing black uniform with a white skull as their crest. Of course – SKUL. Why doesn't that surprise me? So, the Grandmaster gets one of his lackeys to dress up as the Cat, rob the Bank of England, everyone will point the finger of blame at me and run me out of town with flaming torches and pitchforks.
"I don't even know why we're here," says the brunette. "Agent Esmé has that holographic belt thing – she can use the holograms to move the gold."
I knew it! Holograms.
"We're here because she told us to keep an eye out for the real Cat, just in case she intervenes," says another SKUL henchman with raven black hair, coming out from the tunnel and joining the others at the steps of the footbridge. "Not that the Cat will even set foot in this filthy, slimy sewage. She'll probably be crying all the way home if she saw a rat…"
"Or if she got splashed with the sewer water spurting from the wall," says another lackey with copper-coloured hair.
"Or if she stepped in a pile of shit!" says the brunette man.
The underlings start laughing their heads off.
"Trust me, fellas," says the black-haired henchman calming down from laughing, "we've got nothing to worry about."
That's what they think!
As the minions continue to laugh their heads off, I begin blowing a bubble. I blow and blow and blow until it's the biggest one I've ever blown.
"All right, guys, laughing time is over. We better get back to…" the copper-haired henchman stops when he sees the visible pink bubble. "What the hell is that?!"
The other henchmen stare in shock. But before they can do anything, the bubble bursts, covering the men in sticky pink goo.
"Ah, what is this gunk?!" cries the black-haired man. "Get this thing off me!"
"I-I can't – I'm stuck!" exclaims the copper man.
"Me too!" says the brunette. "Who the hell did this?!"
I have to bite my lip to stop myself from laughing out loud. I use my communicator to take a picture of those idiot henchmen and climb up the steps of the footbridge and cross it. I look at the trapped SKUL minions one more time and enter the tunnel that they came through.
It turns out that this place isn't another tunnel, but a chamber or a cellar of some sort. The room is small, cold and quite dark, but not pitch black. It's old and crumbling, and covered in dust and cobwebs.
Suddenly, something hits the floor with a hard thud.
I gasp. "What was that?"
I look to the back of the cellar to see a large sack in the corner of the room, with a circle of light surrounding it. I slowly walk up to the sack and open it. The sack contains the gold bullion. I notice the ladder by the gold and bottom of the ladder I look up: a large circle view of a white ceiling – only to be blocked by a woman wearing a black mask and cat ears. She holds a sack over the hole and lets go of it. I jump back as the sack hits the other sack with a thud.
"That was close," I whisper.
I head to the ladder again, looking at the sack that just came from the hole above. Several gold bars spill out from the bag. I gaze back up at the large, circular glow. I've found the secret entrance leading to the Bank of England gold vaults.
I grasp the rusty ladder and start up. When I scramble into the vault, I shake my hair back. My eyes are slowly adjusting to the brighter light.
I freeze. My mouth drops open.
In the large marble room of the vault sits the world's most exclusive cash machine. Though it looks like a regular ATM, it is not for public use. It's the £156 billion worth of gold bars that Zeke told me about. They are stacked on blue shelves parallel to each other in a stack of thirty-six – well, on one of the shelves that is. All the other bars are being dumped in the bag by the holograms. There are about fifty to sixty of them in the room. I walk through the room, watching the holograms obediently take the gold bars and place them in the sack. Once they're done, they drop it down the hole – supposedly for the SKUL henchmen to pick up and take them to the sewer.
I wonder where the person controlling these things is.
"Thanks babe!" I hear someone call. I look around the room and see a hologram coming into the room. I run over to the door where the hologram came out and I peer into the next room.
It's the person masquerading as me – SKUL Agent Esmé. I can see why MI9 thought that was me doing the robberies. She looks like me – with the exception of the wild, frizzy brown hair, the green eyes and the fact that she has the SKUL crest as a belt buckle. She's even about the same height as me. Maybe a few centimetres taller. In her hand, she's holding a large red stereo that rappers used to have in the 1990s.
With her in the room on either side is Frank, Rose, Oscar, Carrie, Stark and MI9's SWAT team – all tied up!
My stomach jumps at the sight of them. Calm down, Jen, I tell myself. Take it easy. Remember the plan – stop the bad guy… or girl from crippling the economy without being caught yourself. I can only pray that no-one finds out about me – especially Frank.
"…Well, see you soon, GM. Ciao!" Esmé hangs up her mobile phone and sighs. "Well, I better dispose you guys."
"What?!" we say.
Er, what's that?
"Sorry, gang – Grandmaster's orders. What he says goes. But don't worry; I've got the perfect painless weapon for this." She draws out a pistol-like weapon from the holster that's strapped to her thigh. "Say hello to my little friend – the directed-energy weapon or raygun as many people call it. This gun, when activated, can emit a powerful beam that can melt or evaporate hard materials, say like… a bank vault door."
Everyone turns to the door that's I'm standing at, but instead of a door, there's a large hole. That explains how she managed to break in the vault at all the other banks
"Let's show you folks a prime example of what this baby can do," says Esmé. "But what should I test it on? Oh, I know! Let's try the tranquilizer rifles that I – I say I, I mean the holograms – confiscated off the SWAT officers. I'll just let my assistant get them." My eyes widen as Esmé presses the button of her belt buckle and another hologram appears. So, that's how she does it. The buckle on her belt creates holograms. Very clever. "Holographic Esmé, please be a darling and fetch those rifles on the far end of the room."
I watch as the hologram collects the rifles from the back of the room and places them by the foot of the real Esmé.
"Cheers, me dears," says Esmé. "Now go into the vault and help the others, there's a love."
I stand away from the door as the hologram enters the vault and joins the others.
"Now, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, be amazed and feast your eyes on this!" Esmé takes a few steps back, and pointing the raygun at the rifles, she pulls the trigger. I shield my eyes from the bright beam of light that's emitting from the raygun. The beam hits the rifles and evaporates them, leaving no trace of it. Whoa! After she melts the rifles, Esmé twirls the gun around her trigger finger like some cowboy in an old Hollywood western film and blows the smoke away that's coming out from the barrel. "Awesome weapon, isn't it?"
"Jesus Christ, we're going to die," Stark snivels. "My God, we're gonna die!" He starts wailing, the tears inside him gushing like the waters in Titanic.
Jeez Louise, what a fucking crybaby!
"Chief Stark, get ahold of yourself!" Frank tells Stark. Oh, my God, that's what Frank actually sounds like? He sounds so… middle-class!
"Crikey, this guy is annoying, isn't he?" says Esmé. "Well, I know who's going first!"
She points her raygun at Stark, but he doesn't seem to care. The tears continue to stream down his cheeks and his nose goes runny – gross. Looks like it's time for me to act now and save everyone.
"Time to say goodni-ight," Esmé sings.
Unsheathing the metal claws that Zeke installed from my catsuit gloves, I swiftly brush past Esmé.
"What the hell was that?" says Esmé. I look behind me to see the raygun slicing apart exposing the wires inside. The same goes with the stereo she's holding. "Hey, what the hell?!" she exclaims, dropping her gadget and weapon.
Time to release the prisoners. With high-speed movement, I cut the ropes of everyone that's tied up without cutting their clothes or their skin. The rope quickly falls apart, freeing everyone.
"Hey, I'm free," says Frank as he stands up – and so does the others.
"What the flippin' heck?!" says Esmé, clearly pissed off. "Who's doing this? Show yourself!"
"I'll be glad to!" I say. "Deactivate cloaking device!"
The look of surprise is on everyone's faces as my body becomes visible.
"Yo," I say, letting the claws suck back in to the gloves.
"The Cat!" Esmé exclaims. "What are you doing here? How the hell did you get here?!"
"I don't suppose you've heard the story about the man who got into the gold vaults by way of the sewers in 1836, have you?"
"But there are SKUL agents crawling under the sewers! How did you get past them?"
"By using the Super Sticky Bubble Gum." I take out the packet of the Gum and wave it around. "Those SKUL agents are now living, breathing strawberry-flavoured bubble gum statues."
"Grrr…!" Esmé growls, but then a smile spreads across her face. "You may have taken out the SKUL agents and my weapons, but let's see how you'll cope with my holograms." She goes to her belt buckle and continuously presses the red button on the buckle, producing forty holographic versions of herself. "Holographic Esmés, hear my command. Take out your enemies – MI9 and the Cat." The holograms start to walk slowly towards us. "And with the other Holographic Esmés in the vault, you don't stand a chance!" Esmé puts two fingers in her mouth and lets out a piercing whistle. "Holographic Esmés in the vault, hear my command! Stop what you're doing and join your fellow sisters to take down MI9 and the Cat!"
The holograms in the vault drop everything and start slowly walking towards us.
"Well, I love to stay and fight along with my sisters, but I've got gold to deliver," says Esmé, heading for the vault. "See ya, wouldn't wanna be ya!"
Esmé pushes past me and takes off. Entering the vault to the secret place that goes into the sewers, while the rest of us to huddle back-to-back in a tight circle.
"Come on, guys, these are holograms," I say. "They can't touch us because our bodies will pass right through them."
"Actually, they can touch us," Rose tells me. "The scientists and technicians down at SKUL created the Holographic Belt Buckle to give the holograms a hologramatic equivalent of a physical body and the ability to interact directly with the world."
"Meaning they can touch anything without disrupting their holographic projection," Frank puts in.
"Meaning they're gonna tear us limb from limb!" Stark whines. "We're surrounded – there's no way out. We're completely trapped! What are we going to do? What are we going to do?"
I roll my eyes. So help me God, I'm about to smack this bitch up.
Fine. Time to come up with a plan. Come on, Jenny! Think! And that's when it hits me.
"OK, I've got something!" I say. "We'll use the Super Sticky Bubble Gum on the holograms, but the Gum is only enough for five people, meaning everyone else will have to fight off the holograms."
"The SWAT team can fight off the holograms as they're the strongest," says Frank. "My team and I will take the gum."
"Er, hello! What about me?" Stark cries out.
Frank lets out a sigh. "Fine – Stark, too."
"You sure about that? What if he starts PMSing again?" I quip.
"Oh, will you just give me the damn Gum?!" Stark snarls.
"All right! Don't get your knickers in a twist!"
I can hear Frank stifling a laugh. I hold out five sticks of the Bubble Gum for the agents to take.
"Go one at a time with the Bubble Gum," I tell them. "If you all go at the same time, you'll be stuck together alongside the holograms and I'm not gonna be here to pull you off them."
"Where are you off to?" Oscar asks me.
"Doing what I always do best – catching the bad guy and saving the day… and my rep. OK, here I go!"
I make a break for it. I move quickly, cartwheeling past the holograms and somersaulting over their heads, avoiding their grabby hands until I enter the vault. I run to the opening and climb down the ladder to the cellar. I charge out of the door, and past the SKUL henchmen that are still stuck together with the Super Sticky Bubble Gum. I run down the dimly-lit tunnel, trying to catch up with Esmé and her holographic cronies. I keep on running, my heart pounding, until I see three dark figures several yards up the tunnel. Esmé, along with her holograms carrying two sacks filled with gold bars.
"Stop right there, Esmé!" I call as I nearly approach her.
"Dammit, Cat, why can't you just by a good little girl and die?" she says. She presses the button her belt buckle and creates ten holographic versions of her. "Now, my holographic sisters, take the Cat down!"
The holograms – including the ones that are carrying the sacks of gold – pounce at me, however, I lavish them with every kick and punch with all my strength. But they're like zombies – there's no end to them.
"Time to get the claws out!" I unsheathe the sharp claws from my gloves and start repeatedly scratching, raking and slashing the holograms, fighting my way through them. When I do come out on the other side, I turn to find the holograms climbing on their feet again, even though I went Freddy Krueger on them. "Man, these things don't quit, do they? I gotta get that buckle off Esmé before she overruns London with these holograms!"
The claws go back in the gloves and I launch myself on the railing that is mounted on the edge of the pavement and run along it to catch up with (the real) Esmé. After a minute or so, I spot her a few feet away from me. I pick my legs up a little more to catch up to Esmé, using my body to maintain balance. She looks behind her shoulder and sees me. She goes to her belt buckle to create more holograms, but I move quickly. Too quickly. As if I'm floating towards her, as if I'm propelled. Before I know it, I'm launching myself at her, tackling her to the ground.
So, here we are the SKUL agent and I rolling and wrestling around in a dirty sewer, over and over. Grunting and crying. I'm on top of Esmé, banging her head against the ground while fumbling to get the belt off her, while she's gasping, kicking out from under me and using her hands to pull really hard at my hair.
"You cow! Get the hell off me!" Esmé shrieks. She grabs my shoulders and placing her foot on my stomach, she flips me over her head.
"Argh!" I cry as I land on my back. "Fuck, does that hurt!" I gingerly climb onto my feet – as does Esmé.
"I'll teach you to tackle me and make me roll around in dirt!" she goes to her belt buckle – only to find it gone. "Hey! My Holographic Belt Buckle! Where is it?!"
"You mean this tacky thing?" I say. Esmé's jaw drops when she sees me holding the belt with the buckle.
"My belt buckle! Give that back to me, you thieving skank!"
Esmé makes a lunge for me, but I stick my head out and ram straight forward at hers, headbutting her. She falls to the floor, clutching her forehead and crying in pain. Then she watches in horror as I bring out claws from one of my gloves and holding the belt over the disgusting sewerage river, I slice the buckle apart.
"Nooo!" Esmé cries as three sections of the now sliced belt buckle falls into the gross, green river. The sections short circuit before finally sinking to the bottom of the water.
The SKUL agent and I look up to see the holograms freezing where they are, with a hissing sound coming out from them. Then without warning, the holograms start to jerk and twitch, much like if they received an electric shock. Then, the holograms lose balance and fall over – only to vanish before they can hit the floor.
"No, no, no! My holograms! My beautiful holographic sisters!" Esmé cries. She turns to me, her eyes dark with fury. It's like her body is radiating a red, fiery glow. "You vindictive little tramp! You're gonna wish you hadn't messed with me!" She launches into a sudden dash, aiming a blow for me, but I just manage to evade it. Esmé's fist crashes into the ground and leaves a hole in the concrete.
"Whoa," I murmur, staring into the ground in amazement. Wow, kooky as this girl is, she's tough.
Esmé and I engage in battle and it seems that I hold the upper hand but Esmé quickly takes control and trips me over. She jumps high up into the air for altitude and launches into attack, only for me to move out of the way just in time. I quickly kick low at Esmé's feet, tripping her. We both climb to our feet, retreating several steps back into our fighting stances. I make the first move and rush towards Esmé, raising my fist, ready to deliver a powerful strike when she grabs my wrist and spins around in a circle. After a bit, she lets go and sends me flying and crashing into the rough wall on the other side of the river.
"Ooowww!" I moan as I crash to the ground. I pant hard and glance up at Esmé. She's taking some steps back. Probably to jump to the other side and finish me off. Unbeknown to her, I still have one more trick up my sleeve. Reaching for my utility belt, I take out a stick of the Bubble Gum. I unwarp the gum from its packet and I pop it in my mouth and chew. While I chew, I slowly climb to my feet and dust myself down.
"So, you're still standing, huh?" says Esmé. "Well, you won't be standing for long when I'm finished with you!" She runs towards the railings and uses the handrail to launch herself in the air, heading for me.
I immediately start blowing a bubble. I keep blowing until it's the biggest bubble possible until it bursts, the sticky gooey substance attacking Esmé and sticking her to the ceiling of the tunnel. She stares in horror at the Gum that's stuck to her clothes and hair.
"WAAAA! WAAAH!" Esmé cries, reverting back to her normal, childish self. "WAAA! What is this gunk you attacked me with!? Ew, it's disgusting and gross! Waah, it's in my hair and clothes! Waaa, you're such a meanie, Cat! I hate you, Cat! You hear me – I hate yo-o-ou! WAAAAA…!"
I place my hands on my hips, grinning like an idiot. The most eccentric person I've ever met, yet the most challenging. The smile soon disappears from my face when I hear footsteps. I look to my left to find MI9 appearing at the scene. To be more specific, Oscar and Frank! Upon seeing them, I take off.
I run at full speed. I don't glance back. But I can hear someone running at my heels. I run and run and run. My back's sore when Esmé threw me against the wall. My knees ache, my chest hurts, I'm gasping for breath and I've got such a stitch I feel I've got giant staples in my sides, but I don't slow down. I keep going until the awkwardly located ladder rungs come in to view.
I leap onto the ladder and start climbing, even though my legs are still wobbling from all the running, when I hear someone say, "Hold it… hold it right there, Cat."
I freeze. Of all the people in MI9 to stop me, it has to be Frank London. I climb down the ladder and face him. He staggers towards me. And like me, he's got such a stitch he's fighting not to double up.
"If you know what's good for you, you'll let me go," I tell him.
"I'm afraid I can't do that," says Frank. "As much as we appreciate you saving us and stopping the SKUL agent, you're still a criminal. Taking law enforcement into your own hands is illegal, and for that I'll have to take you in. We can either do this the easy way… or the hard way."
"I don't want to fight you."
"So you're gonna surrender?"
I don't say anything.
"Right, you asked for it," says Frank, getting into a defensive stance. "I'm gonna have to take you by force."
Great!
Frank rushes towards me only for me to sidestep out of the way. He tries to throw his lead fist straight ahead at me but I block the punch and push his hand away. He tries to throw a right hook but I knock his hand to the left. The same with the left hook – I knock his hand to the right. Frank tries to jab me again, only for me to block the punch again and throw him over my shoulder.
"Give it up," I say. "There's no way you could beat me, so it'll be better if you let me go."
"Never," says Frank as he gets up and dusts himself off. "I have orders to take you in and that's exactly what I'm gonna do."
He launches a flurry of kicks and punches, switching his attacks as much as possible, but I block them all. As much as I hate Frank right now, I really don't want to hurt him. I manage to avoid his low sweep kick, when I hear voice I instantly recognize the voice that's echoing through the tunnel.
"Frank!"
It's Rose.
"Hold on, Frank – we're coming!"
And Carrie.
I turn to the tunnel. Oh God, I hope they don't join in on the fight. I really don't want to take on my students. I turn back to Frank, only for him to swing his leg and kick me across the face, knocking my mask off my face.
An intense feeling of shock appears on my face as I stare at my mask that's fallen to the ground.
Oh no…
I turn to Frank, whose eyes are filled with surprise and disbelief. I stand still. He stays still too, frozen.
"Jenny?" says Frank.
My worst nightmare has come true.
Frank now knows who I am.
I stare at him, my eyes filled with deep anxiety and dread. I feel the tears stinging my eyes when I move towards Frank, my eyes burning into his.
When I stop in front of him, I'm welling up. "I'm so sorry, Frank," I say. Then I punch him on the jaw with such force that I knock him out.
Frank. I bend down him and brush his hair back with my shaky hand.
"I'm so very sorry." A tear rolls down my cheek.
"Frank!"
It's Carrie and Rose. I've got to move quickly.
I grab my mask and put it on my face. I jump on the rungs and get up the ladder. When I reach the manhole cover, it proves to be a little stubborn to open, but I manage to shift it. When I remove the cover and emerge to the surface, there's a small crowd of surprised-looking people around me, however they step back and cover their noses when the sewer vapour hangs heavy in the air. But I don't care about how I smell. I activate my Jetpack Backpack and leaping into the air, I take off.
I don't know where I'm going. I have no idea at all. All I know is that I need to be as far away from Frank and MI9 as possible.
I head for the Shard, the tallest building in the UK, located in Southwark. I land at the very top of the building. Upon landing, I burst into tears, my hands over my face. I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe Frank found out who I am. I'm shrieking inside with the shock of it. I can't keep it all inside. I open my mouth and let out a hideous roar of anger.
"EYAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
I get down on all fours and use my fists to beat the ground.
"No, no, no, no, no, no, no! This wasn't supposed to happen! This wasn't supposed to happen!"
I stop punching the ground and continue to sob. This wasn't supposed to happen. Frank wasn't supposed to find out about me. If only he let me go like I told him to, I could've retired from crime-fighting right now. I could've flown back to Zeke's, told him about my successful mission and told him that I was going to stop being the Cat and get on with my normal life. But now that my identity has been revealed, I may have to leave London altogether. But I can't, can I? Frank would've told Stark who I am and he would get every agent, SWAT team, office worker, scientist and technician, and custodian maintenance in MI9 to chase after me. I can't leave the city invisible or in disguise in case MI9 have some fancy gadget to detect me in. There's no way I can go to my parent's home or Aunt Hermione's, in case there are cars waiting outside. I can't even crash at a friend's place in case the agents do go to my parent's house and ask for their names and addresses. All in all, I'm screwed.
My communicator beeps. Oh God, it's Zeke. I can't let him see me like this. I wipe away my tears, and try and compose myself. I open the communicator.
"Hey Jen!" says Zeke. "How's it going?"
"Great," I say as I try to sound my normal self. "It went great; the mission was a complete success."
"There wasn't any trouble at all?"
"No, no. No trouble whatsoever."
"Not even from a certain ex-boyfriend who works for a certain government organization?"
I shake my head. "No."
"Are you sure? Because judging by your red, swollen eyes and runny nose, I'd say that something went wrong. Did something go wrong?"
"No! Zeke, it's nothing. Really. I think I-I may be coming down with a cold."
He doesn't seem convinced. He opens his mouth to speak, but changes his mind. "Well… OK. Make sure you get plenty of rest and drink lots of water."
"I will." Just when he's about to hang up, I say, "Hey Zeke?"
"Yeah?"
I wanted to tell him how I was caught out by Frank and I needed a place to crash until he can get me safely out of the country, but decided against it. So I end up saying, "Thanks."
He smiles. "You're welcome." Then he hangs up.
"Thanks for everything," I say to the blank communicator screen. I know what I have to do. "Activate cloaking device."
My body becomes invisible. I stand up and activate the Jetpack. I launch myself in the air and head for the airport.
xxoOoxx
I reach London City Airport in less than ten minutes. I look down at the small but busy airport.
"OK, let's do this," I say to myself. I go to cylinder of my utility belt and bring out the Cat-Tracer. "Now, who should I put this on?"
As I say it, a large man, around about in his mid- to late fifties, with a glorious red beard and moustache and thinning red hair on the top of his head comes out of a taxi. I whizz down to him, but not too close to him. As he and the taxi driver take out the suitcases from the truck, I creep over to the man's hand luggage and opening the front pocket of the bag, I place the Cat-Tracer in the bag. Then I fly away.
"OK," I say, "judging by how traffic is at the moment, it'll take MI9 about thirty minutes to get here. It gives me some time to visit a some people."
xxoOoxx
It takes me ten minutes to arrive at my house in Victoria Park, East London. It's a quaint little house called Cadogan Terrace – it's a pleasant residential area close to the shops, bars and restaurants of Victoria Park Village. It's a stylish three-bedroomed home with a stunning rear garden and additional terrace. God, it's being forever since I been here. The last time I came here was back in May when it was half term. I stare at my house, taking in every detail. Then, my heart skips a beat when my parents and Livi come out of the front door. Today is the last day of the summer holidays before Livi goes back to university, so they must be taking her out for the afternoon.
"Such a beautiful day, isn't it?" says Dad. People say that I look like him, though his skin is darker than mine. But we do have the same personality – we're both active and assertive, but impatient and aggressive. "A beautiful day for a walk around the park. And then afterwards, we can have lunch."
"If only Jenny was here with us," says Mum. She's pretty much the opposite of Dad – she's gentle, thoughtful and caring. And she's the most beautiful woman in the whole world. She's got such a gorgeous figure – she's curvy in all the right places, with short dark curly afro. Big dark eyes, a heart-shaped face, soft cheeks, soft caramel arms and soft cushiony breasts. Livi definitely gets all that from Mum.
"She's probably spending time with her fancy caretaker boyfriend," says Livi. No, I'm not. "I think they may have kissed and made up by now." No, I haven't. "But don't worry, Mum. Jen will see us at Christmas." No, I won't. "And all four of us will be round the table, eating turkey, with chipolata sausage, roast potatoes, a dollop of mash and garden peas, and then mincemeat tart with a blob of cream. She won't be able to resist your home-baked Christmas cake. No-one can."
I watch as they wander down the road, side by side with their arms linked around each other's, talking and laughing. I can feel tears prickling in my eyes again when I watch them disappear around the corner. I'm gonna miss them – so very much. Staring at my house one final time, I wipe away my tears and activate the Jetpack. Then I leap into the air and fly off.
xxoOoxx
So this is it. The final frontier.
I stand outside the headquarters of MI9 in Millbank. I've been spending nearly four years as the Cat trying to avoid being capture by these guys. But now that I've being unmasked, it's only a matter of time before I do get captured by MI9. So I decided to do the job for them one last time – I've decided to hand myself in. I'd rather do that than have Frank, along with Carrie, Rose and Oscar arrest me.
I go up the steps and huddle to the corner by the doors. I use my communicator to see if anyone is walking nearby or if any cars are coming this way. I've only got about 5.8 seconds before any cars comes.
"Deactivate cloaking device," I say to the communicator. While by body becomes visible, I press the blue button above the keypad to change back into my civilian clothes.
I look over my shoulder to see cars and buses rolling by without slowing down. Looks like I got away with that one – for the last time. Looking at the outside world one more time, I take a deep breath, push the door open and enter MI9 HQ.
I feel like I've being transported into another dimension as I stand in the lobby – it's modern, yet sophisticated, like it's the year 3000. Suddenly, I feel like a fish out of water, especially when there's a sharp-dressed and professional-looking woman at the reception desk and I look at my black sleeveless tee, leather jacket and jeans in disdain. It doesn't matter, though. I'll soon be wearing a tacky orange jumpsuit – and that's what I'll be wearing for a very long time.
Before I know it, I make my way over to the sleek, mahogany desk.
"Can I help you?" the young red-haired woman asks.
"M-my name is Jenny Brownstone," I stammer. "I'm also known as the crime-fighter, the Cat. And I would like to turn myself in."
Within minutes, security guards swoop down on me and take me to the cell blocks located under MI9 HQ. Once there, my watch communicator and Backpack are confiscated and my civilian clothes are replaced by an incredibly horrible grey jogging suit. My makeup has been wiped off my face and my hair is pulled back into a ponytail. I am now a shell of the person I was a few hours ago. After my makeunder, I get shoved into a prison cell.
The cell is medium-sized with brick walls and a single solid door with a single barred window – the one that I just went through. And speaking of windows, there is a single barred window opposite the door – not that there's much of a view to look out of. Furnishings and fixtures inside the cell like the bed and desk are anchored to the walls or floor. A stainless steel lavatory is also anchored to the floor. It's also a combined sink and water fountain in the cistern. There's no way on earth I'm washing my hands in that thing… or drink from it. I go to my new bed and lie on the very lump mattress. This is my new home now…
I hear someone unlocking the door to my cell nearly half an hour later. The door opens and I sit up. A woman enters the room. She's tall, slim, and lithe, in her late forties with ochre-coloured skin and short tight black curls that frame her face. She's wearing a tailored grey suit featuring a cinch-waist jacket and pencil skirt. A crisp black shirt collar and bow accentuate the neckline. And on her feet, she's wearing black high-heeled slingbacks.
"Are you the Cat?" the woman asks.
I nod. "Yes. My name is Jenny Brownstone," I tell her.
The woman nods. "My name is Francine Fairchild – I'm the head of MI9. I just came back from a meeting with the Prime Minister when I received word that you, Miss Brownstone, turned yourself in."
"Sorry if I wasted everyone's time in making them think I was trying to escape the country," I say, trying to sound cocky when I actually sound like a dork. "I take it that they'll be coming back here after their wild goose chase?"
"Yes."
"And they'll be heading here to see me like I'm some circus freak?"
The Head nods.
Oh, God. There's no way I want Frank to see me in here. Or the others.
"Listen, I don't suppose you could do me a favour," I say.
"And why should I do that?" the Head asks, crossing her arms.
"Because I pretty much gave up what's left of my ordinary little life in rotting behind these bars for a long time. I didn't need to, but I did. Now, I've already thought about ten different ways in escaping this place without the need for gadgets, so unless you want that to happen, I suggest you listen to what I have to say."
I don't actually have ten different plans. I just wanted to sound confident, even though I'm scared, sad and lonely inside. But I don't let the Head see that. I stare into her eyes to let her know that I'm serious. Finally, she gives in.
"What is your request?"
"The following agents are not, I repeat, not allowed to see me: Chief Agent Horatio Stark, Agents Rose Gupta, Carrie Stewart and Oscar Cole, and Agent Frank London," I say.
"And may I ask why?"
I shrug. "No reason. I just don't want them to see me. And I don't want to see them – or speak to them. Most definitely Agent London. So if they come here – and I know they will – could you tell them that?"
The Head narrows her dark brown eyes at me. "What do I get out of this?"
"Information about how I became the Cat and why I did what I did."
After about a minute or so, the Head sighs and nods, agreeing to tell the others what I told her. Then she leaves the cell, while I lie back on the bed.
Another fifteen minutes rolls by when I hear rushing footsteps coming from outside the cell. I leave my bed and go to the barred window on the door. I back away when I see Frank in a fit of collapse outside the cell block with the Head.
"Are you all right, Frank?" she asks.
"I'm… fine," he pants.
I hear more footsteps. That must be Rose, Carrie and Oscar – as well as Stark.
"I take you're here to see the Cat," says the Head. "Or Jenny as you call her."
"Yes!" they cry out.
"Well, I'm afraid you can't."
"What? No. No, please, Ma'am. Please, you have to let me see her," Frank begs.
"I wasn't the one who decided this. It was Miss Brownstone. She requested that you five are forbidden to see or speak to her – specifically you, Frank."
"Bu-bu-but I have to see her. I have to talk to her. I'm her boyfriend!"
"I'm sorry, but it's not happening."
"But, Ma'am…"
"Frank, if you care about this girl, I suggest you respect her decision."
No-one says anything for a moment. I peer out of the barred window to see Frank lower his eyes, like he's about to cry. Then he turns and walks away. It hurts me inside to see him like this, so I go back to my bed, trying not to cry myself, listening to the Head telling Rose, Oscar, Carrie and Stark to not visit me or speak to me while I'm here. If they do, they'll be severely punished. The others murmur "Yes, Ma'am" to the Head and walk away. When I hear the footsteps fade away altogether, I hear the door to my cell unlocking again. I sit on my bed when the Head enters the room again.
"Well… I can now understand why you didn't want to see Agent London," she says. "You didn't tell me that he was your boyfriend."
"Ex-boyfriend – and no, I didn't," I say. "Now how about pulling up a chair – I know you're just dying to find about how I became the feline crime-fighter."
"Fine." The Head takes the brown chair from under the desk and places it opposite. She sits down and crosses her arms and legs. "So, tell me, Miss Brownstone, how did you become the Cat?"
I sit back against the wall, cross-legged. Taking a deep breath, I begin to tell my story. "It was the summer of 2008…"