Rating: PG to T
Summary: How Alonzo came to the Jellicles.
Disclaimer: CATS is not mine.
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When he first saw her, he had the same thoughts most toms in his position had. First came the standard “Oh shit, I’m in trouble.” Then, upon seeing just who his torturer would be came a severe underestimation of the situation through a typical thought process common among most toms at any age: “ooh, pretty.”
The Tugger had not escaped from his brother’s den unscathed that time. Part of his mane burned away by painfully mundane means (really, who taught a cat how to use a lighter?), and more than a few shallow cuts left by sharp things other than claws. But he had survived, and he had managed to convince his torturer that there was far better fun to be had elsewhere.
After all, such a pretty thing shouldn’t be caged up in a warehouse somewhere across town.
It was an added bonus that the queen could dance.
But even with the qualifications of a Jellicle (dancing, singing, and a normally sweet disposition that she could easily fake), the tribe was slow to accept her. So she found her acceptance elsewhere.
Going back and forth between the xenophobic tribe and the sadistic Macavity, Demeter found herself as torn as some of her victims. In her refusal to reclaim her old role, she met her replacement; escaping physically intact, but held together mentally with an old friend.
In his habit and desire to be needed, that was when Munkustrap took notice of the newly fragile queen. He helped her, with the assistance of the suddenly welcoming tribe and new scarlet queen, rebuild Demeter like some puppet or doll left in the junkyard for that very purpose. She had a nervous twitch, and a habit of looking over her shoulder at shadows, but Demeter was healed and accepted again.
The whole situation disgusted Tugger.
The queen used to be able to kick his ass; and now, watching her cuddle with the silver idiot, as pacified as any house cat, sickened him. Besides, he was far better looking than that dolt.
“You look like you’re going to kill someone?”
“Maybe I should?” Tugger smiled brilliantly at the scarlet queen as she approached, stretching as she slipped out of a comfortable shadow. “Get some attention.”
“I can give you attention.”
“Likewise, luv. But, no offence, you’re boring.”
The queen huffed and tried to rub up against him, smirking. “Then let’s be not-boring.”
“How?” He stroked a paw through her fur, unimpressed that he had easily elicited a purr. “Pretend to be bunnies?”
Bombalurina pulled away enough to look the tom in the eye. “I’m a thief, you’re a thief. Let’s go steal something.”
“Like?”
The queen certainly knew how to keep his attention, and despite her subdued, “I’m a good kitty” act to the rest of the tribe, she was an accomplished villain. So she nuzzled him and pulled away completely, starting towards the main entrance in the junkyard fence. “You’ll see if you come with me.”
There was a brief moment of pouting reluctance, the desire to spite the queen and not do what he was expected to flaring and covering the unease he felt at the potential trouble he could get in out on the streets now. But it only lasted a few seconds before he was on his feet and following along like a put-upon puppy dragged by a metaphysical leash. “Fine, but it had better be good, pet.”
It was a warm day, and other than Munkustrap and Demeter, most of the cats were lurking in their dens, human homes, or just shaded areas around the ’yard. In a shallow alcove created by haphazardly placed rested an observer.
Having watched the exchange, and the displays, Mungojerrie relaxed back. He had heard the orders and plans from his sister, but then fell out of contact, refusing to speak to her when his latest fling turned up in the river. He had considered the possibility of interfering out of spite; of warning Tugger and stepping in so he would not be alone with any of Rumpelteazer’s accomplices. If it did not mean that his life, and his sister’s, life was forfeit, he would have done something.
Instead he just watched as the fluffy cat left the junkyard, stretching then leaving his lurking place to wander through the junkyard and find an alternative to his dilemma.
“Oi, kit,” the tiger-striped tom kicked a piece of debris at a rusted drain pipe. The resulting “clang” resonated within and without the piping. “Got something for you to do.”
Ears flat against his skull, and fur bristled in an expression of obvious distaste, Mistoffelees emerged. “What?”
---
They had walked for hours before Tugger decided to voice his waning interest in the quest for fun. “I’m heading home.”
Bombalurina pouted and latched onto him. “Oh, you’re no fun, Rumsy. It’s just a teensy bit further.”
“Just what are we stealing?”
“If I told you, it’d ruin the surprise.”
“Bomba, luv,” The Tugger came to a full stop, indicating their environment with a broad gesture; “we’re out in Mac’s territory, an’ I got no mind to piss him off. Anything needing two of us is gonna get me into trouble.”
Bombalurina smiled brightly and nuzzled the tom. “That’s the fun! We won’t get caught.”
She tugged him along, ignoring complaints that there was nothing of value by the older docks-- the ones that crumbled and cracked under even the tiniest weight. But he stepped gingerly, and the queen picked her route with the same care. He may have just been getting paranoid, but he could swear that he heard an extra set of squeaks on the docks that did not belong to any of the cats in sight.
Eventually, the red queen stopped. The planks of the docks had separated by some unknown force, creating a gaping maw of shattered wood and torn netting abandoned when humans moved on to the safer creations. Below the opening was a pile of crates, something sparkling in the shadows if the tom moved just so.
“Sorry, Rumsy.”
That was all the warning he had before he felt a pair of paws on his side, pushing him hard enough to stumble. Losing his balance, he grabbed out, looking for some hold, and in a glimpse of his destination, shadows moved. Tangled fur and sharp claws, he had the brief thought that they looked familiar before he pitched forward, taking whatever he had latched onto with him.
The fall was hard, the netting that tangled around them, for all it’s shredded length, only made the situation worse. Tangling around the two bodies that fell into the waiting crate, a shower of dust and some things better left unsaid was released. Dazed, winded, and trying to figure out just why he hurt, the Tugger’s curiosity was settled as he got a good look at the shining thing he had fell on, now dulled with a touch of his blood.
“Oh…”