Soon, she thought to herself hungrily.

Soon she would have her beautiful, luscious coat. So silky and soft, caressing her every fabulous movement.

After so many long, agonizing years of waiting, it would finally be hers.

All she had to do was be patient for just a few more hours or so. Perhaps even less, if luck continued to be on her side. Those mutts couldn't possibly last much longer, now that they didn't have water or heat. Cut off a few more necessities and it was only a short matter of time before they came pouring out of that dingy apartment next door, ripe for the taking.

She listened intently at the closest wall, running a sharp nail down its surface in sadistic glee. The anticipation was just delicious. She could practically see those little vermin right on the other side, cowering in fear as they heard her cackling fiendishly, their beautiful spots shaking.

A sick laugh coursed through her.

Yes… those beautiful, beautiful spots. Soon they would belong to her and her alone.

She would have been content to stay there all night, torturing the Dalmatian family to her black little heart's content, had the sudden sound of barking not roused her from her obsessive pursuit.

Cruella turned away from the wall, scowling in annoyance, as she looked around for the source.

Those dogs were all next door. Why on Earth did she hear barking coming from this apartment? Aside from an old grey cat, it had been completely deserted when they broke in.

Another bark echoed forth from within the building.

Then another.

It sounded high pitched and excited. Like a puppy was playfully scurrying about.

The old woman followed the sound, her bones creaking eerily with every step. Perhaps one of the mutts next door had somehow snuck it's way over, she pondered. The thought made a wicked smile slowly spread across her face, Oh, how delightfully lucky for her, and delightfully unlucky for the sad, stupid little creature.

Her long, tall shadow swept through the hallway, engulfing everything as she passed. Her thin body almost seemed to slither through the building. She grew more and more excited as she approached her unsuspecting prey, until she finally found the room that held the source of the barking.

However, much to her anger and shock, there wasn't a helpless little Dalmatian pup waiting for her.

Instead, there in the parlor room, down on all fours and barking madly at the pet carrier holding the old grey cat from before, was her grandnephew. The boy, looking a complete mess, from his wild unruly hair to his dirty clothes, didn't even notice her at the door. He had a deranged, rabid look in his eyes as he continued to yip and howl, like a child possessed.

Her expression twisted into one of disgust.

"Hunter."

The boy didn't respond.

He kept on barking, tongue hanging out of his mouth and mind completely gone. He was utterly mad.

"Hunter." She said again more sharply.

She stepped closer to him, her scowl now at it's most dark. Her bony hand shook with rage as she lifted it up. With one swift, brutal slap, she brought the boy back to his senses.

Even the old cat watching from within the carrier flinched. Hunter's own cat, however— the hairless one— surveyed the scene from atop a nearby shelf with a look of twisted amusement.

Her young nephew fell back, his doglike whimper morphing into a human cry of shock. He held his face and gasped, eyes darting around the room frantically. "W-what..?!" He cried out in confusion. "—ow! W-why did—?! …w-where am I?"

The glazed look in his eyes faded. With another blink they quickly refocused. That's when his great aunt's form finally caught his attention. He immediately recognized that look she was giving him, and shuddered.

"What the devil are you doing?!" She demanded.

Hunter didn't have an answer. Once again he had found himself blacking out, seemingly out of nowhere. The growing frequency of these episodes had him deeply stressed. "I-I.. I d-don't know," he stammered, still rubbing his sore cheek and trying to collect himself.

"GET. UP."

She didn't have to tell him twice. Within seconds he was on his feet.

"Have you gone mad, boy!?" She shouted, leaning in close to his frightened face. He took a quivering step back, shaking his head rapidly.

"N-no, great auntie!"

"Then WHY," she stepped ever closer, trapping him against a coffee table. "—are you acting like an animal?!"

Hunter's heart beat faster. He raised his arms to cover up his face in case she struck him again. "I don't know—! I don't know what's wrong with me! It— it just happens," he cried. "Ever since I got out of the shipping c-container..!"

This response only seemed to anger her more. One of her eyes twitched furiously. "Are you blaming me for that?" She demanded with a threatening growl.

He paled, shrinking back further in complete terror. "NO!"

"—because I believe I told you your plan was utterly moronic, didn't I, boy?"

He nodded, knowing good and well to simply agree with her.

"I warned you! I warned you time and time again, but you didn't want to listen, did you? Little Hunter thinks he's SO smart, doesn't he?! Well my boy, where did that get you?"

A look of shame fell upon his face.

"That's right," she spat. "All due to your own bumbling incompetence and inability to outwit even the DUMBEST OF DUMB CREATURES!"

At this point Hunter had turned away, fighting back a fresh wave of tears. Cruella's body heaved violently over how gravely the last scream had shook her. For a good tense couple of minutes, her panting and his whimpering were the only sounds heard in the room. Cuddles decided to lay himself down at this point, getting more comfortable as he watched the show.

The old woman angrily marched herself over to a large mirror hanging on the wall, clawed hands still balled tightly into fists at her side. She banged one hard against the mantle the mirror hung over, very nearly knocking it down. Hunter flinched from where he still stood.

Once calmer— though only slightly— Cruella's voice briefly lowered into a deadly serious whisper. "Do you know where they send crazy people, boy?" She asked darkly while glaring daggers into her own reflection.

He gulped, shaking his head but still not daring to look back up at her.

"The asylum," she muttered, her wrinkled grimace deepening. "That's where. …and believe you me, child. It is not a place you want to end up."

The woman suppressed a deep shudder. Though hard to believe, there were a rare few things in this world that actually managed to scare even someone like her. The madhouse being one of them.

She could only vaguely remember what year it had been when she had been forcibly emitted into one of those wretched, miserable places herself. 61? 62? Back when a mental hospital was still, for all intensive purposes, a place of medieval torture.

"…great auntie?" She heard her grandnephew's concerned voice.

She slowly turned away from the mirror and shot him an icy cold stare. It made the young boy instantly regret speaking.

"Is that where you want auntie to send you?" Her voice was low and dangerous.

He shook his head yet again. "No!"

"Do you think it'll be fun?" she asked louder, voice full of venom. "To have doctors prod you with needles?! To be drugged and shocked, while nurses hold you down as you SCREAM?!"

Hunter gasped, one of his hands covering his mouth in shock. "I-I.. I don't…"

But his great aunt continued, paying his alarmed reaction no mind as she drew closer once again.

"I very well should send you there," she threatened. "I should have you carted off right now. Have them put you in a tiny straight jacket, locked away in your own tiny padded cell. Would you like that, boy? WOULD YOU?!"

A memory of the inside of the container flashed across his mind, sending a cold shiver down his spine. "…no." he uttered in a small, broken voice.

"Then don't EVER let me catch you down on all fours barking again, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!"

That last scream sent several cracks across her face.

Hunter nodded frantically, lip quivering.

With that, it seemed the last of her rage had finally been spent. She turned away from the shaken boy and paced over to the large mirror on the wall again, fishing her bottle of green liquid out of her pocket to touch up her fractured face. She sighed in satisfaction as the spray did its work.

"Now make yourself useful and keep an eye on 101," she ordered. The old woman didn't need to even turn around to make sure he'd obeyed. She could simply hear the panicked scrambling behind her as he sprinted out of the room.

Once he was gone, her look of self gratification morphed into one of deep thought.

So. Yet another lunatic to add to the family tree.

The de Vil family had a long, sordid history of insanity. It seemed every member was cursed to eventually lose their mind in some way or another, with her soft little grandnephew appearing to be the newest victim.

Well, he had better not let it get in the way of finally, FINALLY obtaining that beautiful, lavish puppy coat of hers, she thought to herself ominously, or there really would soon be a small padded cell waiting for him in the very near future.

She guaranteed it.