New Dawn Fades - [Macavity and Baddies ONLY]

[Chris]

Life became monotonous. There never was a short supply of work in the factory, a broken-down building abandoned by humans that Macavity had taken over. Monstrous size, and height--from the upper levels, he could see out across the city, but he lacked the enthusiasm he once would have had.

Nursed back to health, the bits and pieces he processed of the event were devastating. He was betrayed. Betrayed by his own beloved.

Kitrina--no, Coalie--would pay.

But that was the same sentiment he'd said for years, years of locational isolation as he generally confined himself to Macavity's turf, never even going to No-Cat's Land. He wasn't sure why he did this, why he'd pace the perimeter but never step over it. His human home probably took him for dead by that point, yet he kept the collar around his neck like a badge, one that hid the raised scar over his throat.

He sighed blearily and surveyed the workshop after packing another crate of "precious cargo" and stacking it with the rest. His muscles had developed further from his consistent weight lifting and mild steroids, but he didn't think much of it. He didn't think much at all, really, save for the bits and pieces he'd been told. The lackluster for life was disturbing for the cat who once had so much love for it. There were times he'd lock himself away with his work, work for Macavity, really, without any sort of contact with Fangor nor his gang.

An emptiness was there.

On occasion, there was a glimmer of something, maybe an evening where he'd smile, laugh if they were lucky, sometimes fuck for the sake of it. Evenings where he wouldn't be given direct orders, a hit he'd pull off flawlessly. There was no emotion behind the killing anymore. No loyalty. An assassin becoming immune to it all.

It was hard to remember the time when he smiled, and Chris sometimes desperately wanted to think of it, but all those memories had that bitch, that bitch who destroyed him, their family. She ruined everything.

Bent over the crate he set down, it took awhile to straighten himself up. He'd worked past his hours. Probably he should eat.

He left the room after scratching his name on a sheet of paper, a track of time, signing in and out, before moving down the steps in bounds. Only at the base did he stall. Only at the door frame did he not budge, gazing into this world of chaos and destruction. This was home. His only home.

[banshee]

Banshee had blood under her nails. She had blood on her shirt, which had begun the day immaculate and spotlessly white. She had blood staining the pads of her paws and blood leaving a warm and meaty tang in her mouth. She'd been out, doing exactly what she did best - gaining information. And her methods were far from humane. There was something wrong inside of her that let her savor the pain she inflicted, and something horrible broken inside of her that let her savor the pain inflicted upon her. As she factory loomed in the distance, Banshee lazily groomed herself, using her rough tongue to lap the remnants of her mornings escapades out of her fur, un-matting the brown tabby tangles.

Cleaning complete, Banshee looked up to notice a figure standing in the doorway. Closer inspection revealed it to be Chris. Banshee had known Chris for a long time. She had watched his transformation over the past few years. It hadn't been pretty. Kitrina had soured any good temper he had left. He was a ball of anger, all whipcord muscle and big, dead eyes. Banshee liked that in a Tom.

She stalked up, aware she still probably smelled of blood and wearing it like expensive perfume. Her skin prickled and the hair on her spine stood up. Killing always got her in the mood, terribly and awfully aware of herself, aware of the ache in the pit of her stomach and the sudden change in her amber eyes. Hips swaying, she walked slowly and deliberately up to the cat in the doorway.

"What 'ave you been up to?" She purred, her low voice sensuous, like honey and raw silk.

[Chris]

Chris looked down to her, a head nod given. "Same as you: work. ... just a different mode of work, clearly." His accent felt a bit less, having died down a bit to fit the consistent, somber mood. He was disheartened.

He wasn't sure what to say, now not one for too many words although previously the problem had been getting him to shut the hell up.

Leaning against the door frame, he gazed out calmly. "Do you think she's still alive?"

[Macavity]

Clip. Clip.

Hands deep in his pockets, the overlord of crime made his usual rounds. It was proving to be a successful, quiet day so far. Everyone was doing their job accordingly. No mishaps reported. He was receiving updates on various plots as they became available. That always meant the day was destined to be a good one.

Shaking his head back and thus tossing his hair over his shoulder, Macavity exhaled in a deep sigh. He didn't bother tying back his hair yet. He was feeling lazy, and it was that same sort of aura he gave off when he encountered two of his best workers. Joining Banshee in the doorway, he leaned against the frame and peered into the room. "Slackers."

[banshee]

Banshee eyed Chris, smiling slightly at his words. "Yeah, well, I expect your morning was less eventful than mine." She could feel the excitement dying at the base of her spine, at his next question. She sighed inwardly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Coalie again. Everything in Chris's life came back to her. Banshee raised her eyebrows and lowered the lids of her eyes, giving him a look of indifference. "Dunno, Chris. Do you think so?"

She leaned heavier in the doorway, examining one razor sharp claw. "Better yet, do you think she deserves to be. Alive, I mean." She lapped at her claw, then turned to look over her shoulder as she scented another cat. Macavity. The boss. She threw him a lazy salute as he joined her in the doorway, then wrinkled her nose at his statement.

"Slacker? I been busy, boss," she said, in mock horror. She thrust her still blood-stained claws out for inspection. "Just got back."

[Macavity]

Macavity took Banshee's fingers in his, pretending to admire her nails. "Oh, aren't you a peach," he drawled, returning his hand to his pocket. "Such a sweet lass, and a hard worker, too." Jutting out his lower lip in a mocking pout, he added, "What would I ever do without your expertise, darling?"

[Chris]

"I stayed an extra hour, but if you'd like me to do an overnight I will. I don't care," Chris replied without the doting "Mac-Daddy" or "Macca" or even any attached form of endearment added. When he normally would have smiled at Banshee's dignified response of showing the battle results, he was indifferent. Almost depressing, really, if one were any degree of sentimental.

He rubbed the worn collar over the raised scar subconsciously, something he often did when thinking along those lines. Habit.

[banshee]

Banshee smiled a strange, genuine smile as Mavacity mocked her right back. She didn't mind it. She knew that she'd done a good job and that she'd be allowed to continue in her favored line of work.

"Aye, where would you be without me." She sighed, feigning ignorance. She then tuned to Chris, expression hardening a little bit. "What's go' you in such a foul mood?" She inquired, already knowing the answer. It was Coalie, it was always Coalie. The Chris she knew could shrug off almost anything and do it with a smile, but when it came to that damn, patchy, skinny American queen hit as a different story.

[Chris]

"I'm not in a foul mood," Chris began though he exhaled. And, maybe for her sake, he tried a closed-mouthed smile. It just wasn't quite the same as it was before. Maybe he'd see about some more nip than normal, something to take the edge off.

[Macavity]

"All you're missing is a storming rain cloud over your head," the crime lord interjected with a slight smirk. "Walk with me, you two," he added, pushing himself off the doorway. "I could really use some coffee, and Chris here would probably like it with some extra spice." From his back pocket, a small bag of some of the best nip available, and Macavity waved it tauntingly at the tom.

[Chris]

The cat nodded his head before he picked up the pace. He understood what that meant. There was some sort of reward in store. For what? He wasn't sure, but Macavity never waved that shit around without there being something to go with it.

The nip was always pleasing, one of the few things that could give him a temporary high. Minutes to hours. Once, on a particularly strange trip, days, but whichever, he'd take it.

[banshee]

Banshee practically bounced after Macavity, like a kitten. Murder always put her in the best mood. And any combination of another assignment, nip, and a cup coffee sounded like a pretty good idea right about now. She ignored Chris's tight, tired smile and lapped thoughtfully at one of her claws. Following Macavity, she smiled her own genuine, smirking grin.

[Macavity]

After slipping the bribe back into his pocket, Macavity started towards the break room for some coffee. It may or may not be his third cup in the span of an hour. Mornings were grueling.

"What have you two lovelies been doing today," he purred, swinging his arm out to try and catch Banshee in a friendly hug. "Hard at work or hardly working?"

[Chris]

"Getting packages set. Suppliers." Chris's answer was more short, eyes traveling to Macavity's lower body as if he could spot where the nip went. It'd be potent, that was for certain, and God, did he want it, and want it badly, but he needed to wait. Macavity had such a tendency to stall, to draw out suspense. There was a day when he would have bounced around in suspense, but not anymore.

He missed those days sometimes, and had trouble clearing his throat beneath his collar, coughing quietly, swallowing hard.

"Working hard." A better answer.

[banshee]

"Harrrrrrdly working," Banshee purred, allowing herself to be drawn in close to Macavity, "You know how much I like what I do." To prove this point, she sucked another one of her claws clean of blood. Only this morning had her victim been alive. He'd sone...well, something to warrant having Banshee sent to take him out. This was what a gang was. Brotherhood. Security. Love. The occasional torture spree. Her brain lumped these all together into a category that made her feel genuinely good. As horrifying as Banshee was, she didn't rock the brooding baddie vibe. She was everyone's friendly neighborhood sadomasochist, as long as they stayed on her good side.

And Macavity and Chris? Definitely on her good side.

[Chris]

"Northerners stick together," Chris murmured, the sound for a moment bringing back something, an instance. A step was taken toward Banshee, then a hesitation. He remembered the times he'd hug them freely, even Macavity, something in his brain not registering the danger but rather his loyalty. The loyalty would never wane.

There was a stall.

He missed the touch. He feared it. He was fairly stoic.

For a moment, his vision blurred, and the brown tabby looked more grey.

He blinked a few times before looking at Macavity and, shockingly, walked forward, arms wrapping around the mafia boss's form in embrace, face resting against his chest and was a little stunned, himself, at the scent, the smell. In what could be an incredibly dangerous situation, he, for the first time in years, felt safe.

[Macavity]

This spur of emotion stopped Macavity in his tracks.

Sharply clawed nails somehow lightly massaged the back of Chris's head, a perplexed and almost concerned look on the ginger tom's face. If anything, it was a look of right confusion. "Uh, hey there," he said slowly. "I know I have Banshee on my arm and everything, but you could've just said something if I was hogging your woman."

The attempt at humor was perhaps in bad taste, but he offered a half-grin nonetheless. "What's the matter, kid?"

[Chris]

"Nothing," he murmured. It was there, just a small glimmer of something. A deep breath was given, the claws only relaxing his poise. "Nothing at all." A small smile came to his face then, something fractional, eyes falling shut. He couldn't express the way he felt.

"You love all of us, don't you, Macavity?"

A question. Something that hadn't been said for years, but something that was the heart, the essence, of Chris.

[banshee]

Banshee looked at Chris, raising en eyebrow. It was odd to see him like this. A bit too much like the old Chris for her liking. Obsessed with everyone loving each other, with being loved. It was an unspoken bond they all had, sure, but talking about it made Banshee deeply uncomfortable.

"Calm it down there, Chris. Course he does." Her voice was an attempt to be soothing, but Banshee was not really the soothing type. She turned to Macavity. "And I ain't his woman. I don't belong to anyone. 'Cept you." The last bit was added in hastily, but said with utter belief in the sentence. She belonged solely to her boss, would take orders against her better judgement and most probably die in the line of duty. She was weirdly good with that.

[Fangor]

"Harassing Macavity again, Banshee? And Chris, stop harassing Macavity. Remember what I told you abou--wait, what the--?" Fangor stared at the tom. "What the fuck is wrong with Chris? Is he high? Sick?" Questions asked not out of concern, but rather confusion as to why Chris would go back to old habits. He thought he'd broken those habits.

How was he mending?

God, if he started the shit about loving that bitch, he'd slit Chris's throat again, and this time to not do a precise job. Blubbering idiot.

The albino looked at Macavity, in means of explanation saying, "pay day." Pay for Fangor could be a combination of things ranging from food, to drugs, and medicine. He coughed into his hand and worked to clear his throat. "Medicine," he requested, for one of the first times looking a bit older.

[Macavity]

Somewhat thankful of Fangor's request, Macavity took this time to peel himself away from Chris with nothing more than a, "Love you too, kiddo" to focus on finding the correct key on the massive keyring. Flipping and turning each one, he finally slid the beaten brass key from the ring and handed it to the tom. "Take what you need, and nothing more. I'll be aware if anything is missing."

Flicking his ear, the ginger leader glanced meaningfully at Banshee, sharply at Chris, then back at her. 'Take him' was the silent order, then turning his back to his three of his very best employees. Chris's open display of needy affection was awkward for him and brought down his defenses. His posture, before very relaxed, became rigid and businesslike. It was clear that Macavity had changed his mind.

[Chris]

Chris was tense as he looked between the three, tongue touching his lips needily. Why was Macavity turning his back? Weren't they going to get some nip? Wasn't he warm?

He questioned this with a slight tug to Macavity's coat, another instance of something, the way he used to be. "... are me 'n Banshee still gonna work for nip, Mac-Daddy?" An innocent enough question. A glimmer. "I can work."

[Fangor]

Macavity needn't have said the warning, and Fangor was slightly put off by it. Like hell he'd be the idiot to doublecross Macavity over pay. Key palmed, he nodded his head before taking off to storage.

[banshee]

Taking Macavity's silent order with a sharp nod and immediate change in posture, Banshee rolled her eyes, touching Chris' shoulder with one clawed hand, talking in a low voice. "Come on mate, calm it down, alright?"

She backed away a bit from the group, crossing her arms over her chest and flicking her ears, irritated. She hated it when Chris got this way. Soppy and weak, co-dependant and needy. She liked his anger. Mostly because she had sort of put it there, so many years ago, when he'd been recovering. She fed him lies and falsehoods to build his rage. But every now and then this side of him cropped up and she wanted so badly to squash it.

"Yeah, we can work." She growled, thoughtfully putting one blood soaked claw in her mouth.

[Macavity]

Emotion. Every now and then, he knew it was necessary to express it, but only in the smallest portion possible. Of course when he thought of emotion, he meant the weakness of "love" and other such pitiful things. Macavity did better with anger and intimidation. Asking about love and compassion tugged at the wrong heartstrings. When Chris asked, though.. it was different.

Upon the reminder of nip, the ginger cat's unruly tail flicked to the side. "Of course," he replied. "You work for everything, don't you? Very nearly. So, I need you two do some hunting and gathering." Turning his head slightly, he gave the impression of looking over his shoulder, but it was mostly to acknowledge them. "There are two gentlemen who owe me some services and thought that they could cheat my system. They aid in a dignified car dealership.. I'd hate to have to see them in trouble. Please take care of it. Information is on my desk."

Sending them out for a mission would help him clear his head. He knew he could count on Banshee to put the rough back in Chris, as well.

She was such a good girl.

[banshee]

Banshee instantly relaxed. This was her kind of job. The kind that would probably involve broken bones. The thought caused a lazily spike of pleasure to curl up her spine, a shiver that raised the hair on her forearms and the hackles at the back of her neck.

"No problem." She purred, voice sounding far less strained and tight than it had been. "We can handle it. Right, Chris?" She gave him a pointed look, trying to get him into a less needy mood.

[Chris]

"Right." An automatic answer, the submissive lowering of his head to her. The shield was pulled back, the automaton he really was. And then he turned, a little shuffle. He could do it. He WOULD do it. An order was an order, the nip almost forgotten by that point. Macavity ordered. Banshee ordered. He obeyed.