Shar had never killed before, which was rather unsurprising considering he was naught but a few weeks old (and already so observant and intelligent!), but it would appear that that particular innocence would not be able to stay with him for long. Cy was in desperate need of some death energies, something dead creatures apparently gave off, Shar had never investigated the matter much, but he understood the basics. He did not know what would happen to Cy if she did not get her energies, but he supposed it wouldn't be much different than if he, or anyone else for that matter, ceased eating all together.
He found himself loitering outside the apartment complex, staring down the streets of Star City in a decidedly human-like form (goggles securely in place over his glowing blue eyes), searching for something that he wouldn't feel terrible about killing. So far, he'd seen nothing but sentient creatures, and not only did he not want to kill them, he rather thought he couldn't.
He shifted uncomfortably, shivering until a coat sprang out of him and covered the rest of his "clothes", adding a bit of warmth to his body.
A cat, or at least, something that vaguely resembled a cat-like creature, sprang across the street and scampered between the rough, metallic walls of two buildings. Shar's eyes followed it intently. He pushed off the complex and strode across the street, sinking into the 'alleyway'.
The cat-thing was no longer visible, but the alley seemed to be fairly closed in, so it couldn't have gotten far. He inspected the rubbish lying between the buildings, there wasn't much, but he suspected cats were adept at hiding wherever they pleased. He pushed a couple boxes out of the way, and found nothing. Nothing! Frowning, Shar crept deeper into the alley. More garbage further along it seemed. But no movement. No cats. Not so much as a space rat, if there ever was such a thing.
He growled, an unusual noise coming from such a boyish looking fellow. Curling his fists in frustration he kicked at a second pile of boxes, fully expecting something to come tumbling out, agitated.
Nothing did.
Shar resisted the urge to swear. He was much too young for that.
"Meow?"
Shar's ears perked and he swiveled around.
There! The cat-thing had crept out from between a couple of trashcans and became to slink toward him. Not very far, mind, but close enough to give Shar a good once-over with her slitted eyes. She arched her back and puffed her tail, but did not hiss.
Shar paused, licking his lips. He knew that, quite frankly, there would be no sneaking up on a cat.
It was time to try something new.
He shivered again, flexing his fingers, and squeezed his eyes shut.
His form disappeared with a little 'pop' of cloudy darkness.
The cat's ears perked, and this time she did hiss, scurrying backward a little in confusion. She moved to turn; her claws extended into the steel floors, but didn't get very far.
Shar 'poofed' back into existence, practically on top of her, and snapped out his arms. She hissed and thrashed, digging her nails into his forearms. Shar let out a yelp and forced a second pair of arms to quiver into existence. The new limbs wound themselves around the cat, hands gripping her neck, and he squeezed. Her struggling became wilder and she jerked her head back and forth, trying to get leverage to sink her teeth into his skin. He tightened his grip and held on.
Finally the cat fell limp in his arms, and he let out a relieved gush of air. Carefully, he tucked her body between the folds of his 'coat', shaping the material until it formed a sort of holder for it. His second pair of arms shriveled away, and he smoothed down the sides of his jacket.
.:Cyilume?:.
Cyilume's mind voice did not form words, but projected a feeling; hope, misery, pain. Shar winced at it. He sent back to her knowledge of his 'catch'.
.:I've got something for you:.
Relief washed over them both.
Shar prepared himself for another try at teleportation, rolling up his sleeves (more for effect than anything), and squeezing his eyes shut again. The cat first. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to do both himself, and it.
A flash, and the body's weight against his side disappeared.
.:Cy?:.
A pause. Then: .:I've got it!:. She sounded energized, and Shar let a smile flit over his lips.
Now himself. Again, he shook his sleeves out, stretching his arms in front of himself, upward, then to his sides. They stung, but he ignored the feeling. Blasted cats. He'd repair himself later, but for now -
There was a sudden flash of something, bright, black, and electrified. It surged through his brain and down his spine, causing him to shudder. He blinked his eyes open, gaping. Teleportation forgotten.
What?
The feeling flashed through his mind again and he stumbled backward, confused.
He realized only seconds too late that it was his danger sense, when something hard and solid crashed against his head. Shar fell forward, unconscious.
.:.:.::.:.:.
The apartment door sprang open, banging against the wall with a ringing 'THUNK'. McKale stormed in, lips curled in sneer and jaws clenched.
"Jeffrey!" he called, nostrils flaring. He slammed the door shut and strode through the living room toward the hall. He stopped beside Jeffrey's bedroom door and kicked it repeatedly,” Jeffrey! You come out here this instant, Jeffrey! I'll not have my valets-"
The door was wrenched open and McKale fell backward with the force of his next kick. Pain shot through his back, but he gritted his teeth and pushed himself back to his feet without so much as a yelp or whimper.
"Jeffrey, you-" his jaw snapped shut.
Jeffrey looked terrible. He was obviously trying to hide it, having forced his facial muscles into some semblance of antipathy. He ran his fingers through his hair, as if suddenly remembering that it was not in its usual state (neat, brushed, and pony tailed), but rather let loose and abnormally ruffled. His face was a botchy mix of red and too-pale, and his clothes seemed a little disheveled.
McKale swallowed and backed toward the opposite wall. He gaped a little, not sure what to say.
"Sir?" his voice cracked, so he paused, sucking in a deep breath that sounded much too sharp to McKale's ears,” Do you require something, sir?"
McKale smoothed down his jacket, collecting himself,” Yes, I dashed well do, Jeffrey. I-"
Jeffrey was shaking. It wasn't terribly noticeably, and McKale probably would have overlooked it, but he had a hand on the doorknob and the blasted thing was rattling along with Jeffrey’s nerves.
McKale had never before seen Jeffrey in such a state. He didn't know what to do.
"I- Well- That is to say..." Dash it all! He couldn't be that upset over the valet thing? Or McKale's bonding? Could he? Really, the poor chap looked like he was on the verge of some sort of breakdown.
"Well bugger!" said McKale,"I'm terribly sorry, what? Didn't mean to hurt your feel-" McKale was forced into silence once again, but this time, not entirely of his own accord.
Jeffrey had, in seconds, gone from shaking and gasping to tense. Unbearably tense. The color returned to his face in a blooming wash of red-purple, and he surged toward McKale. In an instant, McKale was pressed against wall, Jeffrey's hand at his throat, chest pressed to chest. His grip wasn't very hard, but McKale found himself having trouble breathing anyway. He let out a squeak and shrank backward, fruitlessly trying to get away. Jeffrey's hand slid from his neck to his shoulder, gripping all the more tighter when he got there.
"My feelings, Sir?!" he leaned forward, and McKale could feel Jeffrey's breath against his face. Jeffrey let out a little laugh, undoubtedly forced and none to pleasant to the ears,” Do you know where Shar'voras and Cyilume are?"
McKale blinked. The question had been rather...unexpected,” I suppose they're someone around here, what? Why, did they go out?"
"Do. You. Know. Where. They. Are?"
McKale swallowed hard, pressing himself as close to the wall as he could get. Not a terribly good move, it seemed, because Jeffrey shoved forward as well, crushing the breath out of him. McKale let out another squeak and shook his head.
Jeffrey surged backward, wrenching McKale forward as he did. He gripped the man's wrist, fingers clenching unbearably tight around the old flesh and bone, and dragged McKale toward his room. He fair flung his employer through the door and stormed toward the nightstand. The drawer was jerked out of its holding and dropped to the floor with a clatter and clink of trinkets.
"Jeffrey! My watch-"
"Precisely, Sir,” Jeffrey seethed between clenched teeth,” Your watch. Your fucking watch."
"F- wh- Jeffrey?" McKale blinked, gaping. He'd never heard him swear before. Not so much as a bloody, blast, or sod it.
"Do you know where Shar and Cy are, sir?"
"Well, no, I thought-"
"Neither do I, sir. Do you know why?"
"Oh...well...no, rather. But-"
Jeffrey was on him again, pushing him back against the bed until his knees buckled and McKale was forced to sit. Jeffrey loomed and clutched his chin, drawing McKale's face forward. He shot his other arm out and pointed toward the dresser drawer,” Your watch, Sir. You're damn, bloody watch is why I don't know where my bond and his sibling are. Your watch is why I don't know if they're dead or alive. You're watch is why I am incapable of assisting them in whatever horrid, bloody predicament they're in."
McKale's mouth bobbed open and shut, forming soundless words. What in Hades was he supposed to say to that?
Wait....what?
"My watch?"
Jeffrey's grip tightened,"Yes,"he hissed,” You’re watch, sir."
McKale's eyes flickered toward the drawer. He couldn't get a very good look at it, with his head forced into position by Jeffrey's grip, but he could make out most of the contents of it. Some paper (the note), a few tubes of lipstick, and his (or rather her) glasses. No watch.
McKale's heart skipped a beat. He let out a strangled groan and lurched toward the drawer, hands outstretched. Jeffrey shoved him backward, with that one hand, throwing him against the mattress.
"Oh yes, sir,” a thin-lipped smirk had appeared over his narrow face,” You’re watch, like my bonds, is gone."
McKale inhaled sharply.
He understood.
A series of loud, prolonged beeps filled the air, causing them both to jump. After a moment the noise ceased, followed by the unmistakable voice of Wilbur Winquist.
*I've received Yaidom. My apologies for lacking faith in you, Miss...Mister McKale. I've taken the restrictions off of your watch, and you may now use it however you please. Unfortunately, I must remind you that if you do not send me the next person on The List I'll be forced to, once again, restrict your access.* the voice faded away.
Momentarily.
*Oh yes! I nearly forgot. In my rush to get your commission completed, I seemed to have forgotten to list a name. If you don't mind, I'd greatly prefer if your next assignment was that of Erich Emmanuel Bishop. I believe you'll find him on earth. Good-luck, and good-bye.* There was beep, signaling the end of the message.
"Oh, damn and blast!" exclaimed McKale.
Jeffrey moved away from him, stumbled (stumbled!) back against the wall. He paused there, wide eyed and lips parted. McKale pushed himself up by the elbows, furrowing his brow at Jeffrey. He'd gone back to that shaky state again.
The most horrendous groan tore itself from Jeffrey's mouth and he slid down the wall, collapsing in a messy (albeit upright) heap on the floor.