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| Cat's always land on their feet?; Cat's Back story | |
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| Topic Started: May 8 2010, 11:41 AM (246 Views) | |
| Cat | May 8 2010, 11:41 AM Post #1 |
Secret Agent
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This is something I've been writing for a while. Basically gives the story of my OC Cat. I hope people enjoy it. Minor Warnings for Langague and reference to prositution, but it's still PG13 Liverpool, England 1939 It was hot in the tiny room. Despite the pouring April rain, the white walled room felt like a tropical house. WPC Mary Jones sat on one side of the table, regarding the slim figure sitting opposite her, while her colleague Joe Blog paced. “You’re one sick bitch, you know that?” he snarled at the child, for that was all it really was who sat barely moving on the chair that seemed in danger of swallowing her. “Did you really think you could get away with it?” The child did not reply. “Edwin Constable was a pillar of the community. You were seen to enter the room with him, his blood was all over you, Hell some of it’s still on you!” he pointed to the small hands that, despite multiple scrubbings, still held a brownish tinge. He moved, so that his face was only inches away from the child’s. “What I want to know is, what did you do with the knife? We’re searched from here to where we found you. Found loads of blood, but no knife so what did you do with it?” The child didn’t even flinch. Joe drew back, cursing. There was a knock on the door. Joe stepped out and Mary decided to try her luck. “It might be easy if you told us what happened, Honey?” the head jerked up like it was on a string. Eyes almost the same colour as the Irish Sea gazed at her, with a storm brewing behind them. The child was small, filthy, malnourished and handcuffed, but Mary found herself on her feet, fighting the fear threatening to overwhelm her. The door opened and she spun around, excepting Joe, glad for his help. Instead a man stood there. About the only thing you could say about him was that he was unremarkable. His hair was a light brown; his eyes were pale blue, almost grey. He wore a smart suit, and a bowler hat. “You are dismissed WPC Jones.” He said softly. It was a mark of how much the child had spooked her, that Mary did bother arguing. The man took her vacated seat. “Katherine Elizabeth Liver.” He read allowed softly from the file he held in his hands. “Born April 5th 1929, so you are ten?” The child made no response. “Mother Elizabeth Mary Liver, occupation listed on birth certificate as Steamtress, but we both know her true stance don’t we?” There was no verbally response, but the eyes narrowed further. “Father not listed.” The man continued calmly. “Oldest of nine! Your mother must have a very tolerant pimp.” The child’s hands were balling into fists. “All the evidence suggests that you no longer reside with your mother, but live at 221 Holmes Avenue, a premise frequently raided by the police as a disorderly house.” This time the child spoken. “We’re a respectable boarding house.” She said her Liverpool accent strong and dripping with venom. “By your standards no doubt.” The man responded. “First arrest aged 4 solicitation. Frequent arrests since then, breaking and entering, carrying house breaking implements by night, theft, solicitation, employment of a minor, aiding in offences under the Criminal Law Amendment Act of 1885 no less than 12 times.” The child didn’t even blink. “An impressive record for one so young.” The child made no response. “And culminating in today. Murder.” He watched as the child winced, for the first time showing some fear. She knew the penalty for the crime she was accused of. He paused, slowly, regarding her hands. “There may be millions like you in the world,” he said, softly. “And we’ll never know unless you choose to show us.” Carefully, from his bag he withdrew a knife. Slowly he drew it across the palm of his left hand and held it up to the light. The child’s eyes widened as the cut closed rapidly. The man smiled. “He tried to rape you. You fought back and he ends up dead. But no one will believe you? Why should they? There’s none of the evidence that they associate with rape.” He sat down again opposite her. “I offer you a chance. It’ll be hard, it’ll be difficult. You’ll be serving your country, and the people you’re fighting for will never know. I can't promise you a better world if we win, but I can promise you a worst one if you fail.” He gazed at the child as she sat with her head tilted slightly to one side. Then she shrugged. “Looks like I ain’t got no choice.” * Dover April 1941 She’s not impressed by the American. Three years in the field, she’s seen and done too much to be impressed by the jumped up brat of a country that won’t even confirm if it’s going to play or not. She can’t help overhear the other girls at the base calling him cute, and she supposes she can see that. But she doesn’t want cute. She needs an equal and she’s not cute. Stunning, memorable, but not cute. He clearly thinks she’s just a kid. They end up fighting pretty much every where, which irritates everyone, especially Race. In the end he locks them in the gym and tells them not to come out until they’ve sorted it out, or one of them is dead, which ever happens first. It’s the first time she’s seen him cut loose, properly. Before they’ve always had witnesses and they’ve both being fighting to impress them. He’s good, but he fights cleanly, like a soldier. She fights like what she is, a street brat and a spy. He’s got a good foot and at least twenty pounds on her, which eh uses to pin her, demanding that she give. But she’s not afraid to use the weapons at her disposal. Smiling up at him, she wiggles her hips, getting a rush of pleasure and fear when she feels him hardening. Carefully as he relaxes his grip on her, confused, she lunges upwards and puts her tongue in her throat. Typical male, he was so busy with the kiss, that he was unprepared for the hard shove, with the whole of her weight behind it. Suddenly she was on top, smiling down at him. “Got ya!” And suddenly it isn’t important any more. His mouth is on hers and for the first time in her life she understands why people want to do this, why they say it feels good. She’s undoing his jacket and pulling at the vest beneath it, and he’s wrestling with the buttons on her blouse. She’s 13, but neither a virgin nor an innocent, and she knows what she wants. She’s surprised and confused when he pulls away. “No!” “Why?” she demands angrily, trying to keep her dignity, despite the French Silk bra she wears beneath being exposed. “Don’t you want me?” His body is giving her a very clear answer beneath her hips, and he nods. “Of course I do. You’re beautiful.” “No. I’m not,” she pulls off him and begins to do up her shirt. “Yes you are and believe me; I’ve been fighting the desire to fuck you senseless against these walls for weeks.” “So what’s stopping you?” He looks at her, as though he’s not sure. “My dad always says that a gentleman never goes on the first night, and always buys a lady dinner first.” “I’m not a lady.” But the idea of being treated like one is tempting and she’s aware that in Shellfire corner they may not get another chance. “Alright.” He blinks at her. “The canteen, 1800 hours. You’re buying.” She adjusts her skirt and fiddles with her hair, so that they’ll be no sign of what they’ve been doing. He nods, eagerly and confused in the same breath as he gets to his feet. She pauses and looks at him. He’s not a puppy, what ever the girls at the base might think. He’s a clever attack dog. She thinks she likes him after all. * France 1942 He had to do it. Just suck up his pride and apologise. It wasn’t like it could be any worse than the original offense. “You going to stand there all night or you actually going to come forward?” He wished he could say he was surprised by her ability to tell that he was here, but he’d worked too with her for anything she did to surprise him. “I came to apologise.” He said, carefully choosing his words. “I spoke to the Destroyer, and he set me straight.” “Yeah, well you need to.” Cat slipped off the wall she’d been sitting on, “Honestly, how did you get that idea...?” “Well, you have to admit there is an age difference.” “There’s one between you and Cap.” She snarled. “Come on, middle aged man with a teenage girl, what am I meant to think?” “How about trusting me to look after myself?” She sighed. “Christ Bucky, you know I can kick your but, you honestly think I can’t recognise when I’m in danger?” “I thought.” “Well you thought wrong!” Cat sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “Look, I know you don’t trust this guy, but the little I’ve seen, he seems alright.” She paused. “And, I think I need him.” At Bucky’s expression, she explained. “You know how I can hear, see, smell things others can’t. I think he’s the same and I need him to teach me how to control this. Like Toro and Torch. I’m not asking you to trust the guy; I’m asking you to trust me.” “I do.” Bucky stressed. “But...you’re a part of my team, part of the Kid Commandoes” He shrugged. “I worry about you.” “You don’t need to.” Cat said, stepping forward and squeezing his hand. “But thanks for having my back.” She smiled. “Anyway, if you want proof that Logan isn’t interested in me, Look through there.” she moved so that he could see though the filthy glass of the Novena bar. He could see the fighter they called Logan there, sitting at the bar, a red headed woman next to him. “They call her Raven. Don’t know if that’s her real name or a code.” She smiled. “She’s his contact.” “Bit more than that.” Bucky muttered, watching as the Canadian’s hand slipped around Raven’s waist. “You begrudging a man some fun when he might die tomorrow?” He snorted, acknowledging the truth. “Nick’s going into town. So’s Micgrively.” He grinned. “Wanna come and watch the fireworks?” “Sure.” She grinned, slipping off the wall. 1963 One day, Cat will figure out why men curse under their breath when they’re trying to slip out of a woman’s room without being caught. She can hear the soft limitary of German curses, smell the soft scent of sweat, sex, cordite and energy that always seems to follow Maverick around. The sheets under her are Safe House ones, though this is neither of theirs beds. The potential issues for that can be dealt with later. The first thing is to stop Maverick panicking. “You know if you’re trying to let me sleep in, you need to be quieter.” She mutters, not bothering to open her eyes. “Cat.” He stares at her, his horror visibly rising every second. “We...vhat happened?” Cat shrugged, sliding off the bed. “I’d make a guess that we both got drunk and engaged in a sexual intercourse.” She said, coolly. “Thankfully, it would appear we were sober enough to remember the need for protection.” Maverick face flushes worse than ever. “This is insane.” “Not really. Safer than what we were both planning to do last night.” She’s seen him slip away often enough. Said nothing, because they all do it. You can’t survive in this game without some human contact, some pretence of normality. Unless you’re John Wraith and she’s seriously doubting whether the man is actually human. “Vhat?” She stared at him. “We both know what we were doing in that bar. And we both know the risks.” The decade of free love may mean that a woman can enter a bar unchaperoned in some of the better areas, but it doesn’t make it any safer. There are plenty of mad men out there. “You cannot be serious.” She shrugged. “Why not?” she demanded. When Bucky died, all that kept her going at first is her team. She has to take over leadership of the kid commandos as there is no one else. When the war was over, she flung herself into intelligence works. She’s not suicidal; she just doesn’t really care what happens to her. She’s in her thirties now, though she doesn’t look or feel like it. She wants...something. she can’t define it more than that, the something she got a glimpse of in Bucky’s eyes, the thing she used to see when Logan looked at Fox. She doesn’t have a name for it. She just hopes it’s not love. Her only knowledge, experience of love is how it messes you up, how it destroys you. She watched love destroy her mother nine times; she vowed that it would never get her. Maverick shook his head. “Wolverine will kill me.” O.K. that is a valid objection. Logan does tend to be rather protective of his girls. “Not if he doesn’t know.” She slides out of bed, wrapping the sheets around her. “Here.” She said, digging in the drawers. It’s a safe house, so there’s a variety of underwear, male and female, in the drawers. She reaches in, pulling out underwear that looks to be about Maverick’s size (and she prays Logan never asks how she knows that.) “Here. Put these on.” She begins pulling on a sports bra and knickers. “Your pants are over in that corner. There should be a clean vest top in the lower drawer if you check.” Maverick thankfully seemed inclined to follow orders and not to ask questions. “We’re going to spar.” She smiled. “Explains all the signs.” She shrugged. “What Logan doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” She doesn’t think about how she feels O.K. and can remember everything that happened last night, despite having drunk more than Maverick. Don’t ask, Don’t tell, Don’t think. She kissed him, soft on the nose. Maverick looked confused. **** 1968 “Hands where I can see them.” Logan’s soft growl comes through the head pieces. “It’s Free Love, Logan. Got to make it look realistic. You guys got good visual?” Maverick’s hands roam over, slipping under her shirt. They’re claiming this place is about freedom. Freedom from war, from hatred, freedom to love. Unfortunately there are always snakes in Eden. Those who exploit these native kids for their own end. Hence their presence here. The flowers caught around her neck hide the camera. She and Maverick look like they’re only aware of each other; no one’s paying them much attention. In a sense, she is only aware of him. she can hear the sound of the festive, smell the people moving around them. She’s aware of the grass they’re sitting on and can see the target making their deals, but they seem softer, far away. A part of her brain wonders if this is what it’s like to be normal, but mostly her mind is occupied by the sight, the smell, the taste, the presence of Maverick. Chris Nord. David North. They break apart for air, and Maverick smiles at her, a secret smile, almost shyly. At that moment, she can’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else, with anyone else. “We’ve got them.” Creed’s voice snaps her back to reality like a cold shower. She pulls away from Maverick, wondering what on earth that was. It’s the first time it happens, but it’s definitely not the last. ***** Things get tougher once the team splits up. The seventies are a time of change, of revolution. In other words, a bad time to be in Secret agent. No breaks between missions and memories of the darker side of the sixties still haunting them, she’s not surprised when rumours start surfacing of Team X members going off the rails. She becomes slightly wary, when those who’ve gone off the rails seem to vanish without a trace, but she pushes that down, into the same dark place that she pushes the rumours of emerging mutants, or her reactions (“feelings?”) for Maverick. She should have thought, should have remembered what the War had taught her. If you don’t speak when they come for the Jews, then eventually they come for you. **** Darkness. Death. Pain. Red. She hangs somewhere between life and death, seeking...she doesn’t know what. Until the day she can no longer smell Maverick. Then she gives in and lets the darkness overwhelm. ***** She comes around somewhere warm. Colours, browns, yellows, oranges and reds, but not like the painful reds of the camps. These are softer, warmer; she doesn’t know who she is or where she is. She just knows for the first time she can remember she feels safe. It can’t last of course. Slowly the memories return to her. In no order or no sense. Sometimes it seems she remembers two different versions of events. Most of her dreams are nightmares, horrendous images of blood, of men, women children seared in agony and fire. It’s strange, but they feel safe, familiar, like she can deal with them. The few dreams that fall into the category most people call good are also full of people. A brown haired boy with laughing eyes, a short dark man with blue eyes talking in Japanese or Vietnamese occasionally, a black man his arms wrapped around a dark haired boy, an expression of complete bliss on their faces, and the worst, the man in the mask. She can see his laughing eyes, hear his voice with its soft accent, and see a mask over his face, the way a gun rests in his hand. She thinks those dreams are the worst. Because when she meets the man, she decides it must be a false memory, an implant. Because his tone when he speaks to her, the way his eyes scans over her...no, there’s no way he ever made her feel that way. |
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| Gorvar | May 8 2010, 11:54 AM Post #2 |
Self claimed fanfic critic.
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Cat's backstory and her relationship to both Maverick and Bucky are very interesting. All though the age sort of made me cringe, I can understand why she would act more mature for kids her age. Her being recruited to fight for the British was awesomely done, no problems there at all. Question, was it Du dum dugan, I allways got that impression with bowler hats. Her bound with Logan is well written and understandible. overall, a good backstory for a good and well developed charecture. |
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| Cat | May 8 2010, 12:56 PM Post #3 |
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Secret Agent
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Nope, it was supposed to be Race as Dum Dum would still be a circus strongman at that point. I'm pleased you liked it, and if the age thing made you cringe, sighs, unfortunately it did and does happen. |
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| Gorvar | May 8 2010, 01:28 PM Post #4 |
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Self claimed fanfic critic.
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Sadly, makes you hate humanity sometimes. I'll try my best to erase that when I get around taking over the world. |
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| Cat | May 8 2010, 01:36 PM Post #5 |
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Secret Agent
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If you can, I am sure you will get a lot of support. And Yeah humanity stinks sometimes. |
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| Gorvar | May 8 2010, 01:47 PM Post #6 |
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Self claimed fanfic critic.
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Wonder who to use though... Cant use robots out of fear of skynet, cant use bipedial cats because of the Kilrathi.... |
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| Cat | May 8 2010, 01:58 PM Post #7 |
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Secret Agent
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Read The Doctor's trial, while you wonder. Less cringing and Logan on the stand. |
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| LoganActor | May 8 2010, 06:43 PM Post #8 |
Plays Logan on TV!
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Wow. That's all I can say. Just...wow. EDIT: Also, Gorvar, just use dinosaurs. Duh. Edited by LoganActor, May 8 2010, 06:49 PM.
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| Cat | May 9 2010, 02:21 AM Post #9 |
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Secret Agent
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err thank you? Not sure if it's a good wow or a bad one. |
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| Gorvar | May 9 2010, 04:54 AM Post #10 |
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Self claimed fanfic critic.
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Good wow of course! Dinosaurs, of course i should've known! |
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10:55 AM Sep 6
