Post by sorcerer on Feb 24, 2012 21:48:44 GMT
Shyster could now add this to the list of things that were never supposed to happen, along with the part where she lost an eye and the other part with the male cat and the kitten she rescued:
Kittens.
As always, it was because she'd had a moment of weakness (or two), and had gotten too close to that offensive tom, the one named Tony. In truth, she'd hardly gotten close at all. It had come about because she'd insisted on proving herself right, that all male cats wanted one thing and one thing alone.
So she'd been correct.
And in that was her mistake.
The tabby female had figured out she was pregnant fairly quickly. It wasn't often that she ate enough to get as large as she had been. Moreover, one didn't get fat and sick at the same time. Then, as the months went on, she began to feel worse and worse and to avoid absolutely everyone. Including, but not limited to, the cat named Tony, who'd never attempted to find her as far as she could tell anyway. Not that she was overly suprised. A brief tryst hardly needed to be continued on and on, especially considering that she could not stand that animal. Still, it wasn't like him to just ignore her. She vaguely wondered what had happened. Then she decided that he really was just a passing male with a sex drive. Typical.
And then, as her time came, she got angry. The least he could do was show up. So she cornered the messenger one night, a week or so before the kittens came, and threatened the little black tom into submission, and sent him with a message to the fool who'd done this to her, to wit:
I have a present for you. Show up in my office as soon as you ge this message, or you will not enjoy the results.
(Those results being provided by a mercenary she had been keeping on retainer for the last few weeks; a huge black wolf who barely spoke English.)
If anyone could find a single tom in a giant city, it was Rumor, Hexasol's chief gossip-monger. Shyster was quite familiar with the kind of people he consorted with. She had no worries that the message would be delivered. And if it was ignored..
Well, it was hardly difficult to raise a bunch of children to hate their father. It had been done to her and Shyster could easily do it to them. And there would but a bunch..at least four, if she was correct in her thinking.
If, of course, he survived the wolf.
It was afternoon when the kittens were born, in the back room of the old store she'd turned into her home base, and Tony had still not bothered to turn up.
There were six of them, of course, because she needed even more work to do than she already had. The grey-and-orange female lay in the spot behind the water heater where she'd birthed them, studying each one without much in the way of interest.
The first was a shivering brown-and-white male. Brandon was his name, after her father. She would not be gracing Tony with the opportunity to name any of these squalling miniature versions of himself, be there ever so many. And there were.
A male and a female, identical to each other, and exactly like their father, came next. The female she named Cherise, for a distantly remembered relative of hers - a sister? The male she studied with some dislike - he did look so like his damned father - but he would still need a name. He'd have to live with what he got, and so she called him Shift, just because.
For some reason, the fourth kitten was black. What the hell. Shyster knew for a fact that Tony had some kind of overbred striped parents, and she herself was fairly certain that she had no black members of her ungrateful family. Ah well. The black was a female, and was such an oddity that Shyster decided that she didn't need a name just yet. Let her invent her own fucking name for all she cared.
An orange male had come next, with watery eyes, and this was more logical. Her own father had been orange. She named him Atlas, with more fondness than for the other four. Maybe she should switch his name with the first kitten. Well, maybe not. They would have to live with what they got.
With this in mind she named the final kitten, the sixth, a tiny silver-looking male. Aspell. It was, Shyster thought, a kind of plant, and not one she cared much about, but she doubted he would survive anyway. Life was harder than it used to be, and he was extremely small. If he lived, very well. If he died, well - it wasn't as if she'd wasted a name on him or anything.
Shyster was asleep when she heard a noise in the front of the store. Tony, perhaps. She certainly hoped so. He was late, and she fully intended to make this fact very well known.
The tabby female stood up, slowly, leaving the kittens in a dozing pile behind the water heater, and padded cautiously to the front of the store. A feline shape was hovering around just inside the broken door, twitching nervously. Rumor. Of course.
The black cat seemed to be trying to avoid coming in. She stopped, ensuring that she was between himself and the peaceful horde of baby cats hidden in the darkness behind her.
"What do you want?"
The black cat fidgeted for a moment, staring around blankly as if he had no idea what was going on. Shyster narrowed her eye and allowed herself a small, frustrated growl. Rumor immediately jumped, stared at her, and started talking in a nervous rush.
"So I got your message to that one cat..Tim..and he was eating at the time, cockroaches I think, but eventually he listened to me, and I think it was yesterday?"
She waited. Rumor swallowed and continued, studying the ceiling again.
"And anyway, um, I was all "I have a message from Shyster, you know, the one with only one eye, the informationist.." and he was like "what is it" and then I told him the message, like you said it.."
He paused to take a breath. Shyster forced herself to be patient.
"He'll be here soon I think. Like right now soon. Can I have my payment now? Um, like we agreed?"
Shyster growled at him again. It had literally been two weeks since she'd given him the message, and somehow he'd only delivered it yesterday? And he wanted payment?
"Ah, yes," she said in her best pretend friendly voice. "I left it in a dead drop a couple weeks ago. It should be somewhere near the middle of the river underneath the big bridge, do you know the one?"
Rumor made a hopeless squeaking noise. Shyster stepped forward, fur bristling.
"Get the fuck out of here."
The black tom hesitated, stared at the inside of the building for a second, and suddenly turned around and scampered off again.
The tabby sat down in front of the door, eye narrowed at the darkness outside. A storm was coming in, heralding the beginning of spring with a snarl of thunder. And with it would, would, come Tony, or he would not live out the week.
(so I don't know who is playing the black kitten or what her name is, but that person needs to get their bio done like yesterday.)