#a certain catboy

[otherpeoplescreativity]

Update to last weekend's tag-essay about not getting over fictional characters, and the accidental secret-discovery a certain catgirl performed on a certain completely surprised catboy: I wrote the thing!

Or the Prologue for it, anyway.

Given that said Prologue weighs in at 3275 words, I imagine that my last week of January is going to involve a distressing amount of dialogue-blurting as these two allegedly grown-ass mature adults try to win some kind of Reaction Tennis game whilst poking the back alleys of Fictional Atlantic City.

[otherpeoplescreativity]

David Ironhorse can be really sweet sometimes. 

If the code name he goes by is “Red Klaw”, all is good and let’s get out the flower crowns. 

If the code name he goes by is “Puma” ... it’s probably a trap.

[cbairdash]

“From a medical point of view, you were dead,” Dr. Herron told him.

David considered it a moment. “Yep. It didn’t take. So, I got better.”

Dr. Herron’s only comment was a sour look. “Physically. Mentally, you’ve been through enough trauma to shatter anyone else to pieces. So in my estimate, you’re unfit to be in the field. I’m putting you on medical leave for some rest. After that? Therapy and re-evaluation.”

David took a sip of his coffee, then leaned back in the tree. He decided that out of the whole of life, the moments that stayed with you were not ones Hallmark made a card for.

He toyed with the memory of Dr. Herron and the ‘how are you not dead’ conversation once more before putting it away. Wind tickled the leaves, sending some racing from the tree for the safety of the ground. David watched a few fall.

Amy kissed me, he thought. He was not sure how he felt about that. Which, that thought was not completely true. He knew how he felt about that on a certain level. She was a good kisser. Kicked ass like a Valkyrie with a holy mad on. Smart, durable and intuitive, too. All good qualities, which for him did add up to the potential of more kissing.

But over the years, people who got close to him had a habit of dying in ugly ways. Not to mention that right now, she was a co-worker and a native of this Earth-dimension. That last he certainly was not and he did want to go home. All of those were the elephant shaped problems in the room.

David took another sip. The coffee had not gotten better with age. But at least it was bitter and hot with a jolt of caffeine. Those last three were like oil on a rusty hinge to his human-mountain lion metabolism. It just made things work better.

He had been to see the applied physics department again. David visited so often that they had gotten a chair and wrote his name on it with a marker. Since it was the thought that counted, he added his own signature and clawed the chair a bit. David felt that made it fair.

And the best they’ve got is to open small windows to other dimensions about the size of a teacup. Not that they know how to dial in the correct dimension, yet, either. David let out a sigh that would fuel a bellows. He could not fault them for trying. They were doing their best.

All things equal, he might have a way back. But the ‘Gray Stranger’ was never one to cooperate with what you wanted. It had to work out to be what he wanted, too.

Gray Stranger. Alias the ‘Dark Watcher’. Alias John Phennig. Alias ‘a list as long as your arm’. That man’s got more aliases than a shoe store has shoes. David shook his head.

The thought crossed his mind if the Watcher had done what he asked. David had asked the Watcher to tell his friends and adopted family on his Earth that he was alive and safe. But the Watcher’s one unshakable quirk was that he could be a Grade-A horse’s ass. So no one might have gotten David’s message.

Trouble was if the Watcher neglected to tell anyone, those people would come looking. His adopted family worked with a powerful telepath who put the ‘Grump’ in ‘Grumpy’. If Watcher had not told them, there would be hell to pay. Multi-dimensional hell.

He might talk the Watcher into porting him home. Maybe. The Watcher walked across dimensions like most people walked to the store for donuts. Trouble was, the Watcher kept telling David that he was needed here. That this earth needed him for a little while longer. David just was not sure that assessment was still true.

“Yep. That’s me. Strange visitor from another planet,” he said. “With a tail. But I draw the line at wearing my underwear outside my pants.”

Amy kissed me, he thought again. I hope that doesn’t mean she’s about to die.

[otherpeoplescreativity]

Sometimes my writing is okay

Honestly, most of my 1st drafts are crap. I know some people for whom that is not true, but it’s definitely true for me. If I stick with something through completion and then 2 editing phases, it probably has very few phrases that stayed from start to finish, because my 1st drafts are crap.

But I think this one is going to stay mostly intact.

"Compassion," Phillip said gently, giving the word its original French pronunciation, "is not 'the cooties', mon chat." He watched the large man who was sometimes a cat as that one tried to not squirm in his seat. "I see. You felt some compassion for her. Perhaps you feel it still. You have concern that it will unman you if it does not go away? But this is nonsense! Did you not, yourself, say you survived because you had the strength to see to one another? Pah. Compassion is the manliest of sentiments. Anyone can be angry. An infant will rage. You were powerful enough to see that she was not weak, that she was dangerous to a height that delights you even now, but that her wounds were raw. You chose to curl your power around her as a shield, as a bolster for her burden, because you are man enough to do this for one who labors. You are yourself. You are not compromised. No more of that foolishness.”

I can see particular spots where I am going to clean it up some, but by and large I think this is among the best writing bits I have done in years.

[cbairdash]

“I am regretting the bad news I have to tell you,“ Ravi shouted from the rear of the van. “We’re being followed…“

David looked out the rear window of the van.

“Well, I always did like a parade,” he said with a thoughtful sigh.

Glancing around the interior of the van, he took quick stock of its inventory. It was filled with all sorts of shelves, miniaturized consoles, and a wide assortment of technological wizardry. None of which looked useful to him.

Then he saw the ballistic vest, and an idea burst to life. He glanced through the windshield.

“Ok, that’ll do,” David said.

“What ‘will do’?” General Davis asked, more than a little perturbed.

“I’ve an idea. Amy? See that alley up ahead? Take that right.” David explained.

“It’s pretty narrow,” Amy replied, squinting with concentration at the road.

David patted the wall of the van. “That’s why we want it. Now …”

“Agent Ironhorse,” Davis snapped. “Details. Quick. What are you about to do?”

Grabbing the ballistic vest, he smirked. “Going to meet the neighbors.” He moved to the back of the van. At the door he crouched down, then glanced over to Vincent.

“This time its my turn for the cheap heroics. Make sure the team keeps all their fingers and toes, ok? Keep the comms open.” David nodded to the young DAO agent in the back. “Ravi, open the door.”

“What?” Ravi exclaimed.

“Open the door!” David growled.

Before anything else was said, Ravi opened the door. The moment it opened, David propelled himself out and up in a single bound, with the ballistic vest in front of him. Ravi slammed the door shut the instant David was gone, and Amy took a hard turn into the alley.

The unorthodox stunt startled the Indian soldiers. Already tense, several drew sidearms and fired at the furry projectile called ‘David Ironhorse’. As a result, the front half of the chase vehicles missed the turn to follow the van, the back half did not.

Time stood still for a moment, bullets whipping past David. Some scored burns along his arms, legs and one cheek. The others hammered into the ballistic vest. He reached the sharp peak of the arc, then dropped like a rock.

David came to an abrupt landing atop the lead military jeep.

Throwing the ballistic vest to his right, and knocking a motorcycle with its rider off the road, David sank his claws into the roof. Flexing, he peeled it back like the lid from a cat food can. Bullets sporadically whined around him, but either the shooters were afraid of hitting their comrades, or they were reloading. None of the scattered shots managed to hit David.

Once the roof was open, David dropped inside between the soldiers. One tried to raise his pistol and earned a hard elbow to the face for his trouble. The solider went limp like a rag doll. The cougar-man turned to the others.

“The name’s ‘Red Claw’, I’ll be your vigilante today. Anyone got a problem with being hit in the face?” He paused looking around the Jeep. “Wait! Hey! You boys wore brown pants today!” He grinned at his unwilling carpool companions. “I loved that movie, too!”

Then, the DAO comms erupted with a chorus of screams of anger, pain, breaking glass, and the squeal of tires. All of this was framed by David’s voice.

“Smile, darn ya smile … you know this old world is a great world after all,” he sang, hammering a punch in time to the melody.

A few seconds later, once the lead jeep stopped careening through market sidewalk stalls, and weaving wild over the road. David keyed his comm unit.

“Anybody in the market for a slightly used Jeep?” he asked. “It’s a bit of a fixer-upper.”

He was interrupted when bullets tore into the jeep. The first grazed him, but the second burrowed into, then out, a bicep then burned a groove across his chest. David growled, ignoring the pain and lashing at the source of the bullet: a soldier on one of the chase motorcycles that was riding parallel to him.

The cougar-man tugged the wheel to his left, snatching man and motorcycle all at once. With a sharp pull, David slammed the soldier against the frame to the jeep once, then twice for good measure. Once the man went limp, David shrugged him into the back with the others. The motorcycle he had let tumble behind him.

A satisfying crunch followed as it crashed into one of the pursuing jeeps. From the corner of his eye, David spotted a familiar van driving one street over. He stuck his bloody, yet regenerating arm, through the hole in the Jeep’s roof. He waved at Amy with an absurd grin.

“And it has a sunroof!” he said cheerfully.

[cbairdash]

“All we can do now is moved forward and rescue Bianca,” Vincent said ...

... “ and we don’t have the time to indulge in bouts of self-doubt.”

David did not look up from his tablet, but was nodding before Vincent finished his statement.

“Yep,” he tacked onto Vincent’s wise comment.

Memories boiled in the back of David’s mind, like a simmering dark soup. Jarissa, the human-leopard woman from his original team of escapees, rose up in his mind like a specter. Her words haunted him. David heard all over again what she had the original team promise once they escaped from Arkangel’s lab.

David cleared his throat. “One more thing, and I’ll shut my mouth. All of this? It may not be Mukjaree’s first time. If not, he’ll have others he’s done ‘DNA cracking’ on, or whatever he’ll want to call it. If so, we may have to fight them. Remember, they’re not the bad guys. They’re victims in this too, just like Bianca. They deserve at least one chance to escape Mukjaree. But only one. The real criminals to blame here are Mukjaree and anyone he’s got working with him.” Hesitating, he added. “Vincent’s right. When we do this, no self-doubt. Everyone fights. No one quits. Victims get freedom, and the fallen get justice.”

[cbairdash]

Eli suggested that they stop by the Children’s Hospital ...

David considered Eli’s idea a moment, then set the ruined semi-truck cab he held down   on the flatbed tow truck. The big man’s whiskers twitched at the word ‘hospital’. He looked uncomfortable for a moment, but covered it up with a small smirk.

“Sure. Sounds fine to me,” he said while reaching for his phone.

Eli caught the hint from David’s reaction. “If you don’t want to go …”

David shook his head. “It’s not that. I used to be full human once, before a nut-job scientist changed me into his idea of ‘improved species’. So, all ‘human’ jokes aside, I’m just a little uncomfortable in hospitals and labs.” His cheeks pulled back in a small smile. “It’ll be fine. I’d love to meet your sister, and visit the kids there.  It’ll do some good, and should be fun.”

Eli was already looking at his phone when David heard the same message.

“Say again, code QUICKDRAW is in effect. Subject has entered the cemetery of St. Peter’s … I’m going in.”

The big man slipped the phone back into his pants pocket, and looked up at the buildings around the two of them.

“But that’ll have to wait, it’s time to punch in. St. Peter’s is a few blocks from here, did you bring that jet pack?” David asked.

Eli looked around. “I think I left it in the transport. I’ll get it.”

Sarah’s voice whispered over the team’s communication channel. “… use the cemetery at the church to create … zombies?”

David scowled. His tail swatted Eli on the leg at the same moment he put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “No time. Hold on tight.”

Eli’s eyes went wide when David scooped up the man like he weighed nothing. “Wait! What? But … jet pack?”

“Nope. A few minutes might mean dozens of zombies,” David grinned. He looked up, whiskers extended, to scan the wind direction. “Time to take the ‘rooftop express’.”

With three quick bounds, David launched himself into the air towards the corner of a tall building. He rebounded off one, two, then a third building to get altitude. After that, they soared through the air. On occasion, David rebounded off a rooftop to maintain velocity. Eli clutched at David’s clothes and fur as if his life depended on it. The cougar-man keyed his throat mic.

“Red Claw on my way. Comin’ in hot with …” David interrupted himself with a sour face.

Old habits die so very hard, he thought.

“I mean, Agent Ironhorse in-bound,” he continued. “I’m toting Agent Grey. I’m jumping over the last few buildings to your location.” David squinted at the church and cemetery ahead. “Sorry ahead of time, but I’m just no good at ‘quiet’ when I travel by jumping buildings. I’ll be making an entrance when I land, so get ready to use me as a distraction. To Field Lead … just a suggestion. Agent Ellison’s visions and Agent Grey’s precog can give us a great head’s up on what this guy will do in the next few seconds to a minute of near future.” A memory of working with psychics before nagged at him. “It’s possible their abilities might work in concert based on what each sees? Who knows. Recommend they take up psychic spotter roles to guide us. I’m aiming for mid-cemetery right now.”

David glanced at Eli. “Once on the ground, get behind me. Use me as a shield as best you can. By the way? Welcome to the DAO, and their version of being ‘shown the ropes’.”

True to form, David’s last jump sailed him up and over the church. He tensed while he descended in a graceful arc, speeding towards the cemetery ground. A quiet calm settled over David’s features, his face set in a stern look.

Time to go to work …

[cbairdash]

As with any mission, it was off to the hospital to recover ...

David stirred with a purring-snort, rolled over, and only then remembered he was asleep in hospital chairs when they tilted under his weight. On the good side, the white tile floor was there to catch his fall. As for the chairs, he broke their fall with his body. Not that the chairs actually cared, furniture could be ungrateful that way.

“Gravity,” he mumbled, “right. It’s a thing.”

He shook his head, gathered what precious little dignity he could salvage, and got to his feet. With care he righted the chairs, then selected one and sat down again to resume his vigil in Amy’s room next to her bed.

She was asleep, or to David looked asleep. Swollen bruises littered her face and arms, and even those were accented with the occasional scrape or cut. The medical monitors sang their monotonous tune about the young woman’s heartbeat. The rhythm was steady, regular and strong. That gave him a sense of relief.

“Hey,” he told her with a rough whisper. “At least the jello’s not green today! I heard its orange. Trust me, that’s always a plus. Back home, the teams I were on would have running bets as to whether it would be ‘green jello day’ at the hospital when we went out on missions.”

Amy did not reply. Instead, she turned over in her sleep.

“At least you’re getting sleep,” he told her quiet form. “When they hauled you out of there I …” he stopped before he added: nearly swallowed my tongue with worry. He left that unsaid.

Motion at the window caught his attention. Two birds were on a branch outside the glass looking in. That was nothing odd, unless one realized they were staring at David.

“What?” he grumbled at the creatures.

They chirped back. Then David realized that no, they sang back. In unison. Some sort of odd song. Another two joined the first, and then the quartet bobbed in unison. David rolled his eyes.

Well, the Lord of the Moors warned me this might happen. At least the stumpy jerk told me that much before laughing at me. David groused. Oh, ‘that deal might be binding for a bit longer’ he says. It ‘takes some time to be resolved’ he says. Animals might ‘seek you out as a protector’ he says. David’s tail twitched irritably. Jerk. And I’m the double-jerk for thinking I got away with something clever. He harrumphed. I get why he called it the ‘Snow White’ effect. Wonderful.

It was when the fox looked over the bottom of the window ledge to peer into the room, that David was stirred from his chair. He crossed over to the window, and pulled it open. “Shoo! Get the hell outta here! No singing today.”

When the audience dispersed, he sat back down, and froze. There was motion on the table by Amy’s bed. It was just to the right of the water bottle. David blinked.

“I didn’t just see that,” he mumbled. “Mice do not carry tiny spears, or wear buttons and feathers.”

David stared at the water bottle for a good two minutes, before he convinced himself he was just seeing things.