Alias, Smith

A surprise! Adam Scott visited me today!

Not physically of course – he did it through the machine to which I am attached. He’s quite adept at traversing the virtual world now. He lives in a digital reality that spans all forms of electronic communication. His domain is worldwide and he’s quite happy. He thanked me for his present state and – as he said, for good or ill – showed me this IM he intercepted:

geminirose: Jessie?

Obviously, “geminirose” is Ms. Kinsloving’s IM name. It’s also her registered hero name. No brainer. And of course, I know who “greenangelofmercy” is.

geminirose: Are you around?

greenangelofmercy: Sorry, had to climb over Tategami. I'm here.

Tategami – a spirit being. A guardian to watch over small children, assigned to Jessie last year during our breakup. He became more than that to her, and apparently, he is a better boyfriend than I was, since he is still with her. Am I still jealous? I must let that go…

geminirose: Something's happened. I need to see you.

greenangelofmercy: This...isn't really a good time...but I doubt there will be one for a few months. What's up?

geminirose: I'd rather tell you in person. Can I come see you?

greenangelofmercy: Yeah, that'd be easier. Be prepared for lots of snow.

geminirose: When?

greenangelofmercy: And far too many people crammed in this house...can't wait until Cayt's new one is done, but that'll take a year at least.

geminirose: When can I come see you?

greenangelofmercy: Well...I guess when you need to. Just need time to warn everyone you're coming...dunno whoall's awake right now though.

geminirose: It's very important and I need to see you asap.

geminirose: Sorry. I don't mean to sound so insistent.

geminirose: How is the baby?

greenangelofmercy: Sayuri’s asleep right now, which is why everyone else is.

Baby? Is Sayruri…?

geminirose: Awww...

geminirose: Life is precious, new life even more so.

greenangelofmercy: Mahsah keeps worrying that there's not going to be enough food for Cayt’s cub with all the people in the house and hunts rabbits for us.

Ah. Sayuri must be her sister Cayt’s baby. Who’s Mahsah? I’m skipping ahead a bit…

geminirose: Jessie. Are you sitting down?

greenangelofmercy: This has to do with the fact that I felt Kit react to something all the way over here, doesn't it? She woke me up.

Kit… I think of Kit as a person so much that I forget that she began her life as Jessie’s pet. I see her as so much more. I see her as her own person. It’s hard for me to connect the two aspects of her life sometimes.

geminirose: Yes. Are you sitting down?

greenangelofmercy: Um...yes...but if this is that big I'm going to wake up everyone when THEY react to ME...

geminirose: You already know _something_ is up, so I might as well tell you. Smith was returned to us.

greenangelofmercy: ...

geminirose: He's hurt. Bad. It's impossible that he's still alive.

greenangelofmercy: I didn't think he was dead.

geminirose: He's bad. Worse than I've ever seen anyone who was still living.

greenangelofmercy: Yeah, but he's alive...

geminirose: He needs you.

greenangelofmercy: Knew that was coming.

geminirose: Sorry. I feel bad for asking. I know you're still recovering.

geminirose: I just don't know if he'll keep on doing this impossible thing or not.

greenangelofmercy: Why does it always have to be me? There are hundreds of healers still in Paragon.

geminirose: This time? Because there is no one else I'd trust.

greenangelofmercy: You're good at this.

geminirose: I'm just being honest.

geminirose: This is... this is not a repair job.

geminirose: I need an architect, not a handyman.

greenangelofmercy: And next time it'll be that I'm the only person you can get ahold of in time, and the time after that I'll be the only person strong enough, and the time after that...

geminirose: He needs you.

greenangelofmercy: He needs a healer. I just happen to be one who knows him really well.

geminirose: I'm sorry if I'm bothering you. I thought he meant something to you.

geminirose: I'll have MAGI send someone over.

greenangelofmercy: I ran away to protect myself...

geminirose: I'm sorry. I was mean. I'm just desperate. If you could see him...

greenangelofmercy: ...then I wouldn't be able to stop myself. I'd have no choice.

geminirose: I know. I had no choice either. I know a few healers in Paragon, but no one I would trust with this.

geminirose: I know people who can raise the dead, but this is more than that.

greenangelofmercy: I can't do that.

geminirose: I don't need that. I need what you can do. What you can do better than anyone I know of.

greenangelofmercy: ...

geminirose: I took a picture. I can send it if that's what it takes.

greenangelofmercy: Don't you dare..

geminirose: Then you'll come?

geminirose: Or let me bring him to you?

greenangelofmercy: I'm not letting you bring him here! We don't have enough room for the people living here. Not to mention both Tategami and Eric want to paste him and Sayuri-san would get upset.

I have so many reasons to hate Eric… Let it go… let it go…

geminirose: When are you coming?

greenangelofmercy: I didn't say I was.

greenangelofmercy: *grumble* ...I hate you, you know that?

greenangelofmercy: I'll think about it. Gonna talk to Eric and T first.

geminirose: I'm sorry. If I felt like I had a choice. Thanks. I understand.

greenangelofmercy: Because if I AM coming, Tategami's coming with me, and you guys are going to have to deal with it.

geminirose: I understand.

greenangelofmercy: And Eric's still convinced you guys are going to kidnap me home when we least expect it.

Let it go…

geminirose: It's a school, not a prison. I wouldn't dream of trying to make you stay. I would like for you to feel comfortable visiting though. But that's not up to me either.

geminirose: Let me know when to expect you. I'll have things set up. I'll make sure you can come and go discreetly.

greenangelofmercy: I'm still bringing Tategami with me. I don't CARE what it looks like.

geminirose: That will not be a problem.

Oh, Ms. K, this is not a good idea…





I was taken off of the machine. I don’t know why. I don’t know how long. I don’t like it. It cuts me off from Adam Scott and his information. (I’m actually caught up on the world news now thanks to him. So much has changed in the past several months… gods… it’s really been months…) And it makes it harder to connect with Miu.

Miu’s been to see me every day since my return. She’s a better friend than I deserve. I treated her rather shabbily, I’m afraid. Took her for granted. Used her to make myself look good in front of my Marcone relatives as if she was no more important to me than my Italian suits. I hope she forgives me.

That’s the problem with having only my own mind for company. It lets me think too much. A bit of a purgatory, if you will, where I serve penance for my many misdeeds.

And what will I do when Jessie heals me? What will I do when I open my eyes and she’s there? What will she do? Our last meeting in Ouroboros… we made some pretty promises to each other, but I know I could never hold her to them. She deserves more than “maybes” and “somedays”. So do I.

But then, maybe she decided not to come after all. Maybe that’s why I’ve been “unplugged”. It could be that I’ve been rolled into a vault in the morgue where a cadaver belongs. It could be that this will be my permanent state.

If so, the Fates have played a cruel trick on me hiding me from Hades and his boatman. Right now, I’d gladly give him his coin so that I could cross over into the mists. Right now, I’d rather be anywhere but here…

Miu? Are you out there?

It seemed like an eternity, but I was only unplugged for a few hours while I was being moved to a “more discreet location”. It seems that whatever will be done with me does not need to be done at the Rock. I can guess why. If Jessie comes she’ll hardly want to visit the school where she has so many unpleasant memories: her parents’ split; the cruel gossip; our breakup…

But I am moved now and reconnected to the machine. Miu was here a few moments ago, but she has classes to attend and Ms. Kinsolving has been adamant about making sure she goes. I can understand it. A pretty young girl shouldn’t spend all her time sitting with a corpse. She shouldn’t put all her focus on me. But I do miss her when she goes.

But Adam Scott is here, and he says he has something special for me.

Mr. Scott has an odd sense of humor. The avatar he presents himself with is James Doohan of Star Trek. It’s a play on their names, and a jibe at me because although he says, “call me Adam,” I persist in calling him Mr. Scott.

Mr. Scott stands before me now and says, “Steel yourself, lad. What I have to share with you today – well, just prepare yourself.”

I wonder what it could be.

“You’ve heard of Skype, right?”

My avatar, which looks entirely like my formerly alive and healthy self, nods.

“Good. This is a Skype video conference I intercepted a few days ago between… Well, you’ll see.”

And suddenly I sitting in a theatre, looking at a huge split screen. On once half, Ms. Kinsolving sits in her office looking down at me. She’s a pretty woman – beautiful actually – and looks like she belongs on movie screen. But there’s a sadness to her. A heaviness. As if a weight she was entirely unprepared for has been placed on her shoulders. She’s in her office. I can see her diploma hanging on the wall behind her.

The other half of the screen is filled with two faces. One, pretty girl in her late teens who looks older than her years. I recognize her to be Cayt, Jessie’s sister. The other, an asian male, looks to be… oh… nineteen or twenty years old (– old enough to know better!) He has a ponytail (a ponytail for gods’ sake!)

He says, “Hi, I'm Eric Hamada.”

(So many reasons… let it go… let it go…)

Ms. Kinsolving says, “Hello, Eric. Are the babies awake?”

Babies. Plural.

Eric says, “Babies are in a constant state of flux. They're either awake and hungry or full and asleep. Or transitioning between the two. Since its quite at the moment, it’s safe to assume they're sleeping.” Then he smiles wanly and continues, “But since that can change at any moment, I'll cut to the chase. We're calling about the recent request you made of Jessie.”

She’s not coming. It’s just as well, I suppose, but it should be her choice and no one else’s.

Ms. Kinsolving’s eye’s narrow and I can tell she was thinking the same thing.

“Ah,” she says, “Jessie can't speak for herself?”

Yes! Go Ms. K!

Cayt returns Ms. Kinsolvings look with one even more adversarial in nature, but she remains silent and let’s Eric do the talking. It makes me wonder if he has some sort of control powers…

Eric simply shrugs and says, “I was under the impression that someone's life hung in the balance. Perhaps we should focus on that. However, to forestall more invidious questions, Jessie can speak for herself, and sent us in her stead.”

Ms. Kinsolving lets that percolate for a moment, then says, “All right then. Jessie's former boyfriend, Smith, recently showed up. Or what is left of him. I've seen more intact bodies recovered from sharks bellies.”

Ouch. Did she have to describe it like that?

What follows is an argument about the quality and skill levels of available healers. Ms. Kinsolving makes a strong argument that Jessie is quite powerful and talented at restoring a severely injured individual to full health and functionality – which of course is important to me. But Cayt and Eric make as compelling an argument that there are indeed many healers in Paragon City and that Ms. Kinsolving would do well to pursue the services of one or more of them.

Then Eric says, “But at this point in time, her responsibilities to her infant child prevent her from taking a more active role.”

I call out, to Mr. Scott and ask him to stop it there. I’ve heard enough. But if he hears my pleas, he ignores them.

Eric and Ms. Kinsolving reach an agreement. Eric tells her of a healer whom he vouches to be “an artist” – as good as or better than Jessie. Ms. Kinsolving seems relieved. I cannot decide if she really could not find an adequate healer in Paragon, or if this truly was part ruse to get Jessie to return to the Rock. Cayt outright accuses her of it, but Ms. Kinsolving doesn’t show her hand either way.

“Would it be possible for me to speak with Jessie?” Ms. Kinsolving asks after all the quibbling about qualified healers.

Cayt leaves the conversation to go get her, and in a moment… I see Jessie.

Even though she’s clearly annoyed at the situation, she’s radiant. Motherhood agrees with her. The last time I saw her (it seems like an eternity ago) she was barely showing. No one at the school knew about her pregnancy but me, not even her adoptive parents. It’s odd. Even though the… incident… between Jessie and Eric helped cause our breakup, the resulting pregnancy – and our pact to keep it secret – created a new, different bond between us. We kept our secret until the day we both left the school, neither of us planning to ever return.

Mr. Scott freezes the presentation. “I have an offer to make to you, Smith, one you might want to think about before it’s too late.”

(Just spent a good deal of this afternoon reading this thread...and just got up to the last part...GAAAAAHHHHHH!!!! *What* comes *next*? Man, I hate cliffhangers!!!)

(Great story so far!)

"What would you be willing to give up to have her back?”

I stand stunned for a moment. It’s as if Adam Scott has become Satan and he’s bargaining for my very soul.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

He smiles with that affable James Doohan face and says, “I’m beaming her down, captain,” and suddenly Jessie’s image disappears from the movie screen and is sitting beside me. Up on the screen the conversation continues and Eric is holding a baby so that Ms. Kinsolving can see it. There is no accompanying sound now.

“Clint!” Jessie says as she throws her arms around my neck. “Where have you been? I missed you so much!” She covers my face with warm kisses.

This isn’t a dream. And it’s not a construct of my own imagination. Adam Scott has created a virtual Jessie.

“Hello,” I say.

“Hi,” she says back with that smile that made me weak and those blue eyes that captured my soul. “What’re we watching?”

I look up at the screen. The baby’s tiny fist punches Eric in the face. For some reason, I get a bit of satisfaction from that.

“Home movies,” I tell her.

She watches for a moment, then says, “Cute baby Eric’s holding. Whose is it?”

Behind us, Mr. Scott says in my ear, “I used the IM’s on your computer to get a personality profile, accessed her old Livejournal and her student PC from the Rock to fill in the details of her memories. Ixnay on the abybay. She doesn’t remember that part of things.”

I nod.

“Maybe he and Cayt are babysitting for a friend.”

Jessie nods. "Me with a baby would be weird. I've never even thought about it. I guess after college and grad school or med school--depends whether I go for research or not--then maybe I'd start thinking about it."

“Plenty of time for a family later,” I say.

“Yeah,” she says, then she does it. She kisses me.

This isn’t like a dream kiss where no matter how much I yearn for it to, it still doesn’t feel like the real thing. This feels like the Real Thing.

We hold each other, oblivious for the moment to the discussion that continues on-screen. Her breath is warm on my neck. Her hair smells like her hair.

Cute baby Eric’s holding. Whose is it?

The movie ends and we are alone in the theatre. The house lights do not come on and we’re left in the dim glow of the exit lights. It is now that I realize we’re in the Seaside Cinema, where we went to see Sometimes, Never the week before our Florida trip.

We sit together, cuddling in the darkness.

“Something’s bothering you,” she says.

“We don’t belong here.”

“Yeah, closing time. Let’s go to the Boardwalk and get a milkshake.”

Cute baby Eric’s holding. Whose is it?

“No. We… don’t belong here.”

"Sometimes I don't get you, silly," she says and snuggles against my chest.

Her hair tickles my nose. I know that if we leave this place together and step out into the virtual Talos Island sunshine, that I will never, ever leave. I push her away.

“Jessie… I have to let you go now. This time has passed.”

She looks confused and hurt.

I turn to Adam Scott. “You can stop this now, you *******.”

“As you wish,” he says.

I sit alone in a theatre and finish watching the conversation between Eric and Cayt, and Ms. Kinsolving. I find out someone named Maris will be coming to repair me.

Jessie seems to have left the room and I do not see her again.

It’s good to be up and about again. It’s good to be alive.

Sure, my legs feel near bloody damned useless right now, but they’re getting stronger. Physical therapy is hell, but it’s work and I do believe it’s important for me to feel my recovery, just like I felt my “death”. I spent too much time trying to escape pain. Now, I must embrace it. Not in a twisted, masochistic way, but in that experiential, Zen-type way. You know – to appreciate the highs, you must experience the lows. And you have to admit: when you’re reduced to being pretty much a ghost haunting your cadaver, that’s pretty low.

Ms. Kinsolving arranged my healing. And no, it wasn’t Jessie. She arranged it through Eric. Yes, that Eric. The much-hated Eric Hamada. If you had told me months ago that he would be the one responsible for taking care of this, I would have said to leave me dead.

Eric’s friend, the – strange shadowy being, Maris – did the actually healing. Or maybe it was less a healing than a rebuilding. I wasn’t an eye-witness, I’m afraid. My eyes were sunken, empty pits at the time. I have only what details Ms. Kinsolving and Miu have shared with me: the tiny shadow things that crawled through me like maggots, bringing regeneration wherever they went; the energy that filled the room; Maris’ threat to give me a third eye in the center of my forehead (which I am glad he didn’t follow through on – it might work for Jericho Stone, but it doesn’t fit my self-image at all).

I knew the moment when the healing began. I could feel the energy being fed into me from Eric and Maris. Life energy? Creation force? I don’t know. But I could feel myself reconnecting to the world, reconnecting to myself.

Miu was there. I could feel her. I could feel through her. Once, when Eric shouted, “Katsu!” and I thought, ”Gesundheit,” she laughed. When we could both share a joke despite it all, I knew everything would be all right.

And there was pain. Unimaginable pain. As much pain to return to life as there was when it was taken from me. If not for Miu, I’m not sure I would have found my way back. She was there the whole time, keeping me grounded, listening to my psychic screams and encouraging me to not give up. When my body was nearly complete my heart nearly gave out trying to get the blood flowing again. I almost died all over again. I felt like giving up.

But Miu said, “You CAN do it. You got this far, didn't you? You got FedExed across the country with no organs and survived it, and then you're going to give up when you're almost all the way healed? Come on, you can make it the rest of the way.”

So I didn’t give up. I decided that if she believed in me, then I could do this. It must have been a sight – a gross one at that – as my organs reformed, muscles and skin slowly growing to cover them. It makes me wonder how Miu sees me now, and if it will always be there in the back of her mind when she looks at me…

The process took only a few hours to complete – an amazing time span, considering; though it seemed to take forever before the pain lessened and I opened my eyes for the first time in months. I was alive again! Emaciated, weak – but alive! It was glorious. Glorious and humbling.

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was Miu’s beautiful face with that unbelievable smile and eyes full of mystery. Ms. Kinsolving stood nearby, her expression that of teary-eyed relief. Over in a shadowy corner was Maris, the healer, a shadow himself, with dark wings and glowing eyes. With him was a young woman who I later found out was his significant other, Airi. Past them, there was Eric.

That was the humbling part: that Eric was responsible for bringing me back to life. I had to thank him for it, and doing so actually gave me a feeling of closure.

Funny, that. I blamed him for all of my troubles with Jessie. Which perhaps is fair enough considering he was supposed to be watching out for her and… well, that was a long time ago now. But my hatred of him was misplaced. Things happen. Life happens. The daydreams and visions we create of how our lives are supposed to be are like blowing bubbles – pretty to look at for a while, but destined to pop no matter how high they might rise. I hope for her sake and the sake of their child that Eric’s a good man and not the selfish idiot I suspected him to be.

But the past is the past. I must look to the future, however wonderfully uncertain it may be. Look to the future, yes, and live for the now.

I met a djinni in Gemini Park.

While that’s not an uncommon occurrence in this city of everything you could ever imagine, it was unusual enough for me. I am not one to seek out the type of being that a djinn represents – you know, nearly omnipotent spirit-beings and gods – but there was something about this one, sitting alone in the park that drew me to her.

If you’ve never seen a djinni up close, you might not understand what I mean when I say that she was beautiful in a way that human language simply cannot express. I suppose it is somewhat akin to a “glamour” or a spell that makes a normal mortal more attractive than to others than they really are, but with this djinni, I knew it was not a spell. It was something innate. It was as natural a part of her being as breathing is to yours and mine. Even though she was surrounded by fire imps, she seemed entirely approachable, as if she welcomed company, and although I had come to the park for some quiet contemplation, once I saw her, I knew I had to visit her.

“Greetings,” she said as I approached.

I said hello and looked at the living embers which danced around the large rock upon which she sat. “Those belong to you then?” I asked.

“They don't bite as long as you are friendly,” she said with a casual grace.

“I do try to be,” I said and then introduced myself. “My name is Smith.”

“I’m called Shae.”

An unusual name for a djinni, but then, I have no idea what a typical name for one would sound like.

“I hope I’m not intruding, Shae. I sometimes come here to clear my head.” It had just occurred to me that she might be here for the same reason that I was.

She looked at me with pleasant contentment and said, “No. I actually used to come here when I wanted to find company. “

Instantly, I felt completely at ease.

One of the fire imps danced close to her, and she stuck her hand in its flame as casually as if she were petting a kitten. “There aren't as many folk here as there used to be, but, someone eventually comes by."

I realized then that she was one of the Veterans. One of the heroes who came to Paragon six or so years ago when the city was nearly destroyed by Rikti invaders. One of those who responded when the call went out for champions. Shae was a Hero in a city of heroes. Once upon a time, they had gathered here in Gemini Park to share burdens and victories.

“I've heard stories about those days,” I said, “before everything was so organized, when everything here was still somewhat uncertain and chaotic.”

“Things are organized? You are travelling in circles that I have not been,” she said with a smile.

I laughed, but when she asked, “You said things were more organised, by whom?” I realized that she wasn’t joking, she was asking. She had been away from the city for a while.

I replied. “Oh, you know... Long Bow... Freedom Corps...”

“Vanguard is still around as well? “

“Yes, prominently so.”

“Well, fighting Rikti probably means they get the budgets they ask for. People like their toys, so recruiting is easier than for some other groups.”

She paused and thought about something, the nature of which I would not dare to guess, and then she asked, “Is Lady Grey still around?”

“With Vanguard?”

“Yes.”

“I do believe so, though I don’t go to the RWZ very often. I find that my powers aren't very effective against Rikti... and the reverse is also true. It's... almost like a Mexican standoff.”

And it is so. While I do my part to turn back the drop ships and invasion forces when they attack the city, by and large my psi powers are not as effective against Rikti as they are against human foes. And I, also, seem to be somewhat resistant to their psi attacks. We wind up being a huge waste of each other’s effort.

“I put most of my efforts into more common criminals,” I explained, feeling a little inadequate in the stating thereof.

“There's nothing wrong with that. Someone needs to,” she said as if sensing my self-perceived deficiency. “Too many victims get passed by heroes rushing to save the world. Someone has to keep the world worth saving.”

“That’s my philosophy,” I said.

There was a moment of silence in which I watched the fire imps interact in ways that were decidedly not like the random movements of flames on a candlewick.

“Have you not seen elementals before?” she asked.

“Oh, yes, I have,” I replied, “I was just wondering if they are sentient. If they are, I would feel bad for ignoring them.”

She smiled at me and said, “Thank you for the thought. As to their sentience....you might ask a cat about that sometime. If you can get it to care enough to answer."

Just like that, she addressed the reason I needed to come to the park, the very thing I needed to contemplate.

When Jessie left Paragon City, she not only left me behind. She also left Kit, her kitten.

Kit is no ordinary kitten. She began as a creation of Jessie’s electrical powers – a lightning kitten, if you will. But as is the way of such things, she was more than she appeared to be. She was a spirit-being who was developing and growing and becoming even more than that. She calls herself Miu now, and she is testing the waters of humanness. Dangerous waters those are. Waters that are best navigated with a friend and companion.

I would like to be that friend and companion.

My problem is that the more I am with Miu, the more she is a mystery to me. I wish to understand her, and when we are sitting together drinking smoothies or laughing at some hero’s poor fashion sense, that is easy to do. At those times she seems to be a girl like any other girl – though very special to me – and no less unfathomable than any female is to any male. But there is another side to her – the cat.

And so I had come to the park to consider how I could better understand that side of her, and now, standing and chatting with Shae, a djinni, an idea occurred to me.

“Shae…?”

“Yes?”

“You say you're a djinni?”

“Do you... I hope it's not rude of me to ask... But do you grant wishes?”

(Very nice.)

((This actually makes me want to play Jack from the old days with deep backstory and people to interact with. Well done))

((Whoops -- need to make a change and it won't let me!))

Despite the impertinence of my question (it turns out that asking a djinni if she will grant a wish is a bit of a faux pas) Shae was very gracious in her response. It seems that in Shae’s view the potential for my personal growth outweighed my lack of manners, so she agreed to grant my boon. I had only to meet her again the next day and it would all come to pass.

My wish? I wanted to become a cat of course! What better way to understand Miu more deeply?

So I met with Shae the next day and she presented me with a simple black cat collar.

“Odd,” I said looking at it, “I imagined it would be irridescent or clusttered with mystical jewels. It looks like a regular collar.”

“You wanted to be a cat, not a unicorn,” she said.

Until she grinned, I could not tell is she was being serious or mocking me.

“And all I have to do is put it on?”

“Yes. The timing is up to you, but it will only last a maximum of seven days.”

I left Shae and spent the next few hours making the rounds in Peregrine and Talos, trying to decide when I would put on the collar, trying to decide if I should tell Miu about it.

At dusk, I met with Miu at Spanky’s Boardwalk. She seemed somewhat reticent, as if she had something to say. It turns out that she was preparing to go away – for how long, she did not know – on a rescue mission. She and some others were preparing to go to the Underworld. The Underworld. The realm of many gods, none of them benevolent. One of them my uncle, Hades, traditional ally of my hated uncle, Ares. The Undeworld. A place I cannot go. I am hidden from the Olympians, and I must keep it that way.

I wanted to beg her not to go, but I did not want to undermine her confidence. Besides, Miu will be their guide to return home. I could not have talked her out of it, no matter. I would have liked to have kissed her goodbye, but we are still miles away from that, and we may not even get there. Life is complicated. I simply made her promise to return.

So now, Miu is gone. For days? Weeks? I do not know. I miss her. I do know that.

In my hand is the black cat collar. Without a second thought, I place it around my neck. Amazingly, it fits.

As I start to change, it occurs to me: Seven days as a cat – how long is that in people days?

((KITTY! er hrmm. I"m impressed that Smith knew that Cat's are actually of of sync with the human time stream and perceive time differently. Hope when he comes back in 3823 years things will be ok ))

((Actually, Shae was thinking days Paragon time. I think Alias Smith is capable of getting into enough trouble in 7 Paragon days, don't you? ))

((Also, One of Shae's reasons for going along with the request, is that although cats are usually very good at finding trouble, they are also usually capable of getting out of much of it. ))

I never expected this. When I asked Shae to leave cat-me aware and cognizant of my human identity, I figured that I would still feel like… well… me. But only moments ago, I spotted some Circle mages on a rooftop, stealing some poor woman’s soul. Since I retain my powers (at least to some degree) my first thought should have been to stop them. But as I was TK’ing my way up, I spied, through a window, a television.

Now, I have never been much of one for television, especially with the proliferation of reality programming. But there, on the screen, were the tiny figures of dance show contestants gliding across a stage. I had to stop to watch, and so found a perch on the fire escape.

I can’t take my eyes off of them. They looks so… small. And their dance, their prancing and skipping… I can tell they do not see me. I reach out a paw – I think I can just… pin… that… one— No, there’s something there, something invisible protecting them – ah… a window. Of course.

I watch. Their costumes are so shiny. Their arms and legs… so delectable… I can just taste them… But no! Despite their size, they are not mice, not prey… But… they are so… small…

I reach out to touch them again. The invisible barrier is still there.

But… I have powers, don’t I?

I imagine my eyes glow brightly green as I will the box containing my tiny prey across the room toward the window. Humans, unnoticed by me until now, scurry out of their chairs, shocked that their tiny pets in the big box are flying past their heads.

Halfway to me, the mice draw a black curtain to hide behind. No matter. Once the box crashes through the invisible –

Shards of glass explode out upon me and I suddenly realize who I really am. I turn and leap just as the tv flies over the fire escape railing above me. I levitate and watch it crash into the alley below. Up on the rooftop, I can hear the mages panic. One of them says, “What was that?” Another says, “Masked interlopers!” Then I hear the woman’s voice – “Where am I? What happened?”

She scurries down the fire escape, past the elderly man and woman with their heads poked through the broken window pane.

My work done, I float to the rooftop and give myself a good grooming.

((Snerk! Here's the other reason I as a player let Shae give you that collar. You come up with trouble on your characters that I would never think of in a million years! I'm still laughing. =) ))

It is no secret that I like to sing. And I’m not bragging, but normally I have a rather rich voice that ranges from a mid-baritone to a high tenor. I can also manage a fine falsetto that never veers out of tune. But as satisfied as I am with my human voice, I must say that my cat voice is much more effective for what a singing male voice is designed for – attracting females.

First of all, this is not why I became a cat. No, no, no. I became a cat because I wished to understand one particular female – a cat spirit in human guise, who has elements of both natures. I seek to define my relationship to her to see if there can ever be more between us than “just friends.”

But right now, I’m having trouble focusing on why I’m a cat. All of my attention is drawn toward being a cat – being a tom cat to be precise.

It started with a pair of buskers playing outside a restaurant in Steel Canyon. Their music drew me to the alley behind the restaurant where other cats had also gathered. You see, we cats are intensely curious and always looking for interesting anythings – whatever excites the senses of a human works doubly so on a cat. So the music drew us, but the odors from the lunch preparations in the restaurant’s kitchen guaranteed that we would stay in hopes of delicious scraps thrown out with the trash.

There were, I would guess, twelve of us back there, staking our spots around the dumpster, preparing for the mad dash and slash that was to come. I had a plan though, since I still had my powers. I would just hold them back telekinetically until I had grabbed up the prime delicacies, and then I’d levitate to the rooftop and let them have at the leftovers. I did not want to risk getting involved in a catfight.

But there was a fragrance hanging in the air – something I could not put my paw on, but it appealed to me on that most basic of levels. That biological function that supplants even hunger.

So I began to sing.

My caterwauling drew the attention of a pretty Siamese and two tortoise-shell tabbies (who, I soon found out were sisters), and, unfortunately, a half dozen rival males. I hadn’t planned on fighting. I hadn’t planned on… anything really, except for finding a nice meal. But I could not leave now, even if I wanted to. At this point, backing down would get me thrashed by this mob of toms. They would fight each other later, but if I was the first to submit, they would take it as a sign of weakness and kill me first.

Suddenly lunch seemed unimportant. Even the sweetly sung mewing of the three females could not draw my attention away from the large male cats encircling me. My cat instincts were taking over, but to survive I would have to stay focused enough to use my powers.

The largest of the toms – I’ll call him Tusker in honor of his saber-tooth-like teeth – had some words for me. (Cat words, which I cannot repeat here, for the language of cats is sacredly secret.) If I had been a normal cat, I surely would have ended up exactly as he described it, with my entrails strung like (cat words) across the alley and the crows picking at my (more cat words, but “kitten-maker” would be a rough translation).

But before Tusker could try to make good on his threats, another tom – younger and trying to establish himself as the most virile of the mob – leapt at me first.

“Powers! Use powers!” I remember thinking.

And I did.

I telekinetically slammed the young tom into the brick wall of the restaurant. He bounced off and shot out of the alley as if he was on fire. I cleared out most of the rest of my rivals the same way. Once they had a taste of what I could do, they decided to go elsewhere for lunch.

Tusker was left. Undaunted by my display he charged. I bounced him off of the wall not once, but twice, and still he came back, claws swiping at me and teeth bared and aimed for my neck.

I dodged – barely – and shot a psi-dart at him. It stunned him, but he shook it off. He started circling me slowly, reassessing me. He was smart this one. Powers or no, I think he could beat me.

A plan came to mind and I moved as if preparing to run. Tusker’s body tensed into a spring, ready to bounce in whatsoever direction I decided to flea. I had one chance and I’d have to time it just right.

With a kick of my powerful hind legs I leapt up to the open dumpster. I balanced myself with my TK while I made a great show of my own claws and teeth. Enraged, and with all his predator’s survival instincts switched into overdrive, Tusker leapt to follow me.

I feinted leaping into the dumpster – a move that caused Tusker to overbalance and fall in. Then I leapt down to the ground and used my powers to slam the lid on him before he could get out.

My three females were suitably impressed.

So now, with Tusker’s angry cat words echoing beneath us, my three females and I are enjoying a quiet, thorough, mutual grooming on the dumpster lid. I’m not quite sure of how these things go, but my cat brain is starting to come to fore this very instant. Of course I know that after the lunch crowd clears out and the restaurant staff comes to empty the waste bins, Tusker will be freed. But I should be long gone by then.

Some things are worth skipping lunch for.

(Cat Elite Boss?)

(Oh, this story's taken a fun turn...and gives new meaning to the phrase 'caterwauling'- and Tusker deserved what he got

Bloody hell.

I cough up a hairball and watch the uniformed people place my paramours in cages separate from mine. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn.

The fight and then the subsequent wooing (cats know nothing of making out discreetly when in semi-public places) drew the attention of the restaurant staff and they in turn contacted animal control. Though they appreciated the anti-vermin aspects of alley-cats, an epic fight followed by epic mating was just too much. I was snared and hoisted off my feet before I got to enjoy the fruits of my victory. Tusker -- quiet and probably cat-snickering inside the closed dumpster -- won out after all it seems.

As the animal police drive us to wherever they are taking us, my mind flits like a baby bird between human mind and cat mind. I try to catch it, pin it down to one or the other, but I only wind up chasing my tail. Why did I wind up like this? What am I doing here?

What...? Oh, I'm licking my --

No! I'm here to understand the experience of a cat. I'm here to better understand Miu, the cat-spirit/cat-girl/girl-girl. The girl I fancy. My best and dearest friend. I wish to understand what it means to be a feline. To be beholden to the King of the Cats. To feel the need to hunt to --

The people speed by on the sidewalk and I cannot help myself -- I leap upon the side of my cage as if I can leap through the wire-bars and chase them and catch them and rip their entrails out.

From the cages around me, my potential mates roar their approval. It arouses me in ways my human mind cannot comprehend.

The truck slows and the people walking by are people again, not prey dashing past me. More uniformed people come out and take the cages with the females inside a white block building. The driver himself comes around to get my cage.

"I'd hate to be you old boy," he says looking me in the eye, "You're facing a hard fate. But who knows. Maybe someone will come in and take a liking to you. Maybe you'll just wind up getting clipped and taken to a nice swank apartment to live."

I know when he says, "clipped," he's not talking about styling my fur.

I’m inside the white building now, locked in a cage that is stacked in a wall of cages. I smell the females from the alley -- frightened, panicked – their scent and their frustrated calls drive me to join their cacophonic chorus. I leap onto the heavy wire-gridded steel door, throwing my strength against it as if I had a prayer of forcing my way out. But then, I do, don’t I?

Somewhere inside of me, I know I still have powers. And I still know how to use them. All I need to do is focus, poke my mind around in the cage’s locking mechanism a bit and then just TK-ly open it. But this… this… extremely primal, feline side of me will not let me leave my harem to their fates. When I escape, they must come with me. However, I can’t wait forever, can I? My human mind knows how these things go. There is always a surplus of cats in animal control shelters, and the more feral we act, the sooner we will be euthanized.

Across the way, a dog smiles at me with its deceptively benign beagle face. That friendly look will buy him days, perhaps weeks – more than enough time for someone to come in and see him, and upon seeing him, fall in love with him and make him the family pet. This pooch will wind up with a cushy bed in a nice apartment where his master will feed him brazed beef and soup bones with the meat still on them. He just has that kind of face.

I look at the other dogs in their wall of cages across the wide aisle from us cats. There’s an adolescent boxer not too far from the beagle. And there’s a female who looks to be a Lab/German shepherd mix. She’s older, but not too old, and also has a pleasant face. Then a Chihuahua, a small terrier, a pug or bulldog (I get those mixed up), two short-haired, yellow mongrels. Further down are more dogs I can’t see as clearly. They all are fairly docile, one or two of them barking now and then, but for the most part they are ignoring my girlfriends’ incessant caterwauling. It is as if they understand that not causing a ruckus and getting along well with the humans will buy them a little more – and maybe enough – time.

“My God, this is a rowdy bunch!” one of the humans says, raising his voice over our racket. He’s looking at our side of the aisle as he says it.

“So whaddaya want me to do about it?” another replies. “Can’t put ‘em down until they meet the required.”

“Where’s the acetaminophen?”

“Whaddaya gonna do?”

“I’m gonna dissolve some pills and put it in their water.”

“What?!”

“Yeah. My old man used to do it to the neighbors dogs to keep them from barking at night.”

“Jesus, man, if you get caught, they’ll fire us both.”

“You want to put up with this all day?”

“No.”

“Then get me the acetaminophen.”

I know what acetaminophen is. I know it’s handy for a headache when I’m a human. I have no idea how strongly it will affect me as a cat. It may very well render me unconscious. If I have to act, I have to act now.

I spray the inside of my cage (and the unfortunate felines in the cages beneath me) which drives my harem into an even louder discord. Then I do something that the human side of me does with much regret and reservation, but the cat side of me does with exuberance and wicked glee. One by one, I fire psi darts at the dogs.

It takes great concentration on my part because, well, it’s hard to stay focused long enough to actually come up with a plan, let alone execute it, but soon the dogs are howling, whining, and barking becoming even noisier than the cats.

“What the fu--?” one of the humans says.

The other human is looking around, confused. “I don’t know,” he says, “but something’s happening…”

One final task on my part and my plan will be complete. The smoke alarms in this place are of the most common variety. They have a button that you press to test them. I use my TK to press that button on the two alarms that I can see.

“Smoke!”

Both of the humans look around and sniff the air.

“I don’t smell smoke…”

“Well, they do!”

“Nah, it’s –“

“Both alarms are going off. It’s smoke. We got a fire somewhere.”

“But I don’t see it!”

“We gotta carry these cages out of here!”

“It’ll be quicker to just open the doors.“

Yes, I planted the germ of that idea in his head…

“Then open ‘em and we can all get the hell out!”

Less than a minute later my females have dispersed (without so much as a backward glance my way – ungrateful wenches!) and I am on the rooftop across the street watching the unfortunate humans who work at the shelter scratch their heads as they wait for the fire trucks.

So my females escaped and not an hour later, I met Genevieve.

Genevieve is old. Achingly old. I hurts me to think about the effort that it takes her just to walk. But walk she does – no cane or crutch or Hoveround for this old girl. “The day I can’t get around under my own power is the day I’m going to pack it in,” she said not long after I met her.

She found me in the park near Silver Lake and though I was unaware of it at the time, she immortalized me. She’s an artist, you see, and I was basking in the morning sun, napping on a bench. I made a rather nice subject, if I may say. Of course, she’s a rather good artist. That mural of the 1st Hero Brigade in Virtue Hall in Virtue Hall at the Old Civic Center? She painted that when she was my age, a senior in high school, having won the commission through a nationwide contest.

And then there was the Time Magazine cover from 1958 also, but I think the mural itself establishes her credentials well enough.

After she was done with the painting, she came to sit by me. Gen is one of those wonderful people who know to treat cats and dogs and other creatures as persons. Personhood is very important to animals, and especially to cats. We do not like being taken for granted or worse – treated as… as… a piece of property. We’re dynamic individuals with wills of our own and we like to have that acknowledged by the humans we take up with.

Gen showed me her painting and said, “See how beautiful you are?”

I looked at it with sleepy eyes with as much indifference as I could muster. Yes, I was beautiful. Princely. I mewed in appreciation, indifference overcome by my incessant need for attention.

She lifted me up and sat me on her lap, then placed the painting on the bench in the spot where I had just been.

“You have a collar, but no tag on it,” she observed.

“True,” I said, though it sounded more like, “Mwrr.”

She shook her head sadly and said, “I suppose you belong to someone.”

“Mwrr.” Which meant, no, I belong only to myself.

“No?” she asked, as if she understood, “Would you like to come home with me?”

I thought about it, and figured, why not? She probably had food and maybe a soft pillow I could sink into.

“Mrrll,” I replied.

She slid the strap on her art supply bag over her shoulder, then placed me in a comfortable, dark spot in it. “It’s not a far walk from here, Pretty Prince,” she said, then picked up her painting and took it and me home with her.