"Little Mac. Liiiiiiittle Maaaaaaaaaaaaaac."
One of those lights flashed before his eyes, sending him tumbling down a bright tunnel. He opened his eyes to the darkness and a figure shaking him awake.
"Mac! Mac! Wake up!"
It was one of his henchcats. He growled them away and sat up.
It was dark outside; around 11 o'clock human time. The light of a streetlamp barely made it's way through the dust that covered the warehouse windows.
He stumbled to and down the stairs, his eyes not yet fully open and still filled with sleep. Tired, angry, and hungry, he slumped onto his "throne," surrounded by his henchcats.
"What's up for today, boss?" a scruffy young tom asked.
"I haven't decided yet."
A couple of the cats talked amongst themselves, but silenced at once when their leader shifted and stood up.
"Tonight..." He looked around at his subjects, towering above them. "Tonight we strike the One."
"Good night," he said to his friends in the moonlight, unaware of what his fate would be. Not a sound could be heard in the stillness of the night. He took in a deep breath and was about to sit down on the tire when there came the sound of a trash can being knocked over.
It was probably just one of the young toms, scraping for another morsel of food to last them through the night, he thought humorously.
He finally sat down, but was quickly disturbed when there came a louder crash, followed by a deafening howl...then silence.
He heard a growling that seemed to be coming from every corner. His ears twitched, and his tail flicked the air---but he stayed where he was. The only thing he could do was wait.
He was just beginning his nightly contemplation when the growling came again, closer this time. To his left, a figure could be seen creeping towards him.
Something grabbed him from behind, claw to his throat, and dark hairy things leapt towards him. Opening his mouth for a scream was all he could do.
All the henchcats cheered. Macavity stared down at them. They silenced and looked back up, awaiting new orders.
"Very good, minions. The time is come for you to depart. I shall deal with him alone for now."
When they had gone the Crime Master stared at his victim, who was propped on a chair to the right wall, knocked out. He waved smelling salts in front of his nose and he awoke immediately.
"Well, Old Cat. Did you think you were better than Macavity?"
"What?"
He began tying this paws to the chair. "You're going to stay here for now and contemplate not the Jellicles, but why you were brought here."
"This isn't like you."
"Is it? Well then, perhaps you should think about that as well."
"But Mac---"
But Mac had already begun to go to sleep. Now that He was here, the Old One wouldn't intrude on his dreams.
A light warmed him. The light was his home, the light was his past and future. . . . The light called to him.
"Liiiiiittle Maaaaac."
He stirred.
"Liiiiiiiiiiiiiittle Maaaaaaaaac."
He groaned and tossed violently.
A shadow came to him. It touched his paw and carressed his hair.
"Little Mac."
He smiled. The sweet voice leaned forward and gave him a few licks.
Macavity made a groan of pleasure, and a warm body cuddled next to him. He reached out to find---only his prize queen. He stretched and rolled over to see the Old One still tied to the chair. He grimaced and turned back to the queen.
Perhaps, he thought, these dreams are only a desire for this love next to me.
However, in a little corner of his mind he doubted that.
Sex did not help. He was horrified, saddened and enraged. He called a meeting among his henchcats.
It was Time.
"It has come that we must dispose of our displeasures."
The eyes around him filled with anticipation.
"We must attempt one of the greatest deeds of all time."
Breaths were held.
"Bring out the One."
A simple rope connected to a chair had been replaced by heavy chains. They clanked against his bulk body musically, their rust wiping off on his coat. When the prisoner was on the miniature stage the Demonic Leader raised his arms, and even the chains fell silent.
"This," his deep voice boomed to the very back of the room, "is why we are here. This cat who has shunned us, this cat who has tormented us from the inside of his protected little world...."
Cheers vibrated through the whole building.
"THIS," everything was dead silent again, "is the night we take vengance on the one who is too good to seek vengence on us!"
More cheers. He raised his hand for more silence, a preacher without a pulpit.
"But is he too good to take vengance on us? Does he not pain us with his silence? His freedom inside our dreams?" He turned to the One with eyes like fire. "DOES HE?"
Tiny diamonds of sweat glistened on his forehead. He reached up to wipe his brow, but lowered his hand with thoughts of encouragement: Finish this and you can be rid of it all forever.
A shiver flowed through the audience as the Master's eyes bore into theirs. He spoke in almost a whisper.
"The time has come for destruction. I shall be the first to strike. Then you all may follow."
He turned to the One, ears flat, teeth bared. He hunched to the floor, leaped, his foot caught on a wire, he fell face forward to the floor, and he was swept over by darkness.
The henchcats rushed forward. Though the incident very much was indeed comical, this was no time for laughing.
Millions of lights and unrecognizable faces surrounded him. Dazedly he shook his head. Someone shouted a name. Someone drew nearer and nearer. He was picked up and held to a soft body rocking back and forth.
"Little Mac."
He smiled.
"Little Mac?"
"Don't leave me, Mommy!" He reached out. "I love you!" He gave Old Deuteronomy a big wet kiss.
The henchcats roared with laughter.
