| 03) Kitty - A Social Gathering for Freaks Kitty lay in her bunk, waiting for the day to begin. Deerfield High had been heaven compared to here. Without question, she was the youngest, shortest, and smallest female Hound. Half of the women in her dorm towered over her, and the other half looked like they could break her in half. Two had made passes at her, and laughed when she cringed away. Her trainers worked her everyday, and soon made it clear that the only result of her phasing out of the Carrier would be to die. She 'hovered' when she phased... weightless, suspended. It took an effort of will, like miming the act of walking down stairs to descend to a lower level. At a thousand feet of elevation, that was an awful lot of 'stairs' to walk down. They took her collar off as a lesson, and made her stay phased as long as she could; screaming at her to keep going until she simply couldn't anymore. Twenty minutes. They let her do the math. In twenty minutes she could barely cover a quarter of the distance to the ground. Soon, they told her, they would take off her collar during her training. They would help her use her mutant power to it's potential and make her into a weapon for Shield. There were books in her locker. Anatomy books, that showed the circulatory and nervous systems throughout the body. Diagrams of the most vulnerable organs and where best to strike in order to stun, maim, or kill. Her workouts of late included pop quizzes on the anatomy material, with punishing extra exercises if she answered wrong, and early showers if she got it right. It made her sick to her stomach to learn the stuff, but she learned it. The morning buzzer went off, and the Hounds stirred. After breakfast they formed up in teams, each to their own work squad. Kitty was on the second laundry detail. They washed endless loads of gray jumpsuits and Shield uniforms. They did a different type of cleaning with the training suits. It was a chemical spray and rinse, then oiling and treating the leather material of the outfits. Laundry material got her to lunch, and then she reported to her trainers. She wasn't proving very apt at the martial arts they were giving her. She found herself flat on her back on the floor, with the trainer shouting at her to list all the ways he could be disabled even from her posture below him. She struggled through as many as she could remember before he let her up. "You simply aren't taking this seriously enough, Hound," he said with a disgusted tone. She cringed under his disapproval. "You know what will happen..." 'I die at their whim,' whispered through her brain. "Yessir," she said. He frowned at her, "I'll just have to think of a better motivation for you." She didn't like the smile that came over his face. "A much better motivator." He turned to his table, and grabbed a drink bottle. "You're done, Hound. Go shower and get ready for the Social. Now, that oughta be an education for you." The chuckle he gave after his drink chilled her. The Social. She didn't know what to think about it. The others said it was a chance to meet the guy Hounds and have a little fun. She could understand that. It was a way to blow off steam from a high-pressure existence. A Hound worked and trained five days a week, with double work shifts on the weekends, with no less than life itself as reward. There were no holidays, no vacations, and only a chance for a semi-supervised night off once a month. So why did she get so nervous about the way they talked about it? She brushed out her hair as the women prepared to go. The comments flying around made her suddenly aware that it was going to be an adult party. Very adult. "Coming, Kitty?" said her bunkmate. "Umm," Kitty said. "Uh, no. I think I'll just stay here. And read." "Not an option," the guard said. He gave her a red card. "This says your trainer orders you to attend. Get in line with the others." "Yes, sir." She formed up with the others, and walked with them to the Social Hall, at least that's what they called it. In reality it was a large, dimly lit rec room lined with curtained alcoves. A long table held some luxury food items a cut or two above the slop they served in the dining rooms. A shorter table held a couple of kegs of beer, and some bottles of wine. Thumping dance music played from the stereo. From the first meeting of the two groups of Hounds, Kitty got an eyeful of the lewdest, most blatant sexual behavior she'd ever been exposed to. Some of the women had their suits opened to the navels with no brassieres. Men had the top of their suits hanging from their hips, exposing hairy chests. She was absolutely scarlet from embarrassment. She wanted to run, but she was stuck here for the duration. One of the bigger males caught sight of her and grabbed her by the wrist, dragging her to the middle of the room. "Looky here, boys... the bitches have brought them a cute little puppy this time. So, how old are ya girly, twelve?" "I'm fourteen," she said, pulling futilely at his grasp. "That old, huh? Heh. I didn't think you ladies could have any litters." Karla, her bunkmate, marched up on the man. "You know she's not one of ours, Brad, we only wish. But if you don't let her go, I swear you won't get any tonight. She's a Hound, just like all of us, so treat her like one." He let her go, and laughed. "Don't worry, girly, the night is young yet. One of us'll prob'ly get drunk enough to give your skinny little ass a try a little later." He grabbed Karla around the waist and stumped off with her in a rough dance. Mortified beyond words, Kitty retreated to the snack table, picking up a plate and piling some tidbits onto it. She sat against the wall, and turned away from the sight of a Hound pinning one of the women to the wall and having sex with her right there in the room. The woman wasn't struggling, and she sounded like she was enjoying it. "Get a room," someone finally said, and they stumbled into one of the alcoves, whose purpose Kitty only now understood. Only her collar and the red card kept her in the room. She began to study the items on her plate, wondering how long she could make them last when someone came up to her. "Kitty," said her bunkmate. She looked up at Karla. "Look, we have a rule here that no one is turned away. We're all in this together, see?" Kitty nodded. "Well, there's a guy here who's hard to fix up. So, as junior most lady Hound, I'm assigning you to be his company." Kitty shook her head frantically, and Karla frowned. "I'm not giving you a choice, ok? Besides..." and her strong features softened considerably, "he's very nice." She looked where Karla pointed, and she saw a slender form at the entrance of the Hall. At first glance she thought he was pitch black, until he turned his head and blue highlights shimmered through his wavy hair, and over his narrow features. There was something strange about his feet, and his hands were shoved into his pockets. Something thin and dark twitched behind him. A tail? "He's got a tail!" she squeaked. She looked up at Karla in shock. "Yeah, he's got a tail," Karla said. "But like I said, he's nice. So go on." Kitty got up stiffly, and walked over the fidgeting male. He seemed as nervous as she felt, and a jolt of fear went through her as he lifted his eyes to hers. They were a solid golden yellow, and gleamed softly in the dimness. She swallowed hard, and kept walking. Surely he couldn't get any stranger... ...Surely he could. His ears were swept upward in a delicate arch to a sharp point. His skin... his skin was only a few shades lighter than his dark blue hair. At closer range it looked fuzzy. All over fuzzy. It was hard for her to read expressions on his scarred face, but he looked very serious, and maybe a little sad. She stood in front of him, and shifted her weight from foot to foot. She offered him the plate of snacks still clutched in her hand. "Dankeshoen, Fraulein." He gave a little bow, his accent soft and lilting. The weird hand that reached out for the plate made her gasp, and take a step backward. The golden eyes closed, and this time she had no trouble seeing the pain that passed over his face. "I... I'm sorry," she said. "We're all Hounds, right?" She stepped closer and put the plate in his hand. It closed lightly on it, but he just stood there holding it. What she'd first taken to be some kind of crablike pincer was revealed to be a pair of extra thick fingers matched with an equally broad thumb. "Are you okay?" He opened his bright eyes again, and looked into hers. She couldn't meet his gaze, and her eyes dropped. He was barefoot, and his long feet sported two wide front toes, with thick horny nails. Each heel had an extra toe pointed backwards, bent up tight against the foot, as if they weren't comfortable on a flat surface. The tail was curling spirals around his right ankle, holding it in a strangulation grip. With another visceral jolt of strangeness, she saw the tail end bore the classic devils' point... just like in all the drawings of Satan. It was the last detail that shattered the spell of fear inside her. She tried to stifle a chuckle. It was just beyond ridiculous, all of it. He couldn't have been designed to be anymore frightening if someone had tried. Her shoulders shook with reaction and suppressed mirth. His shoulders hunched and his eyes narrowed. "You find something amusing, ja?" His voice was still soft, but there was a hint of a dangerous rumble under the German accent. She held out her hands in a warding gesture. "It's just... Oh God, it's like... Someone was playing some kind of sick joke, and you... you got the brunt of it." She met his eyes this time, pleading silently for him to understand, while still trying to control her laughter. His posture slowly uncoiled, and his tail loosened. He let out a long breath. Giving her a small smile, he put a hand on his breast. "Oh, ja. Am I not the living pinnacle of Mother Nature's sense of humor?" He gave her another bow; deep, graceful, courtly, with hand and tail flourishes. He made quite a production of it, and she curtseyed in reply. He lifted his eyes again. "Actually, I'm used to being the brunt of the joke, and it's nice to find someone who can appreciate the jest." The self-deprecating smile on his lips tore at her heart. This strange man... no, this boy, because he couldn't be much older than she was, bore so much pain inside him. He took a piece of cheese from the plate, and ate it neatly. The sight of his fangs barely registered with Kitty, except she noticed they were cleanly white and sharp. It was just another perfect detail take from the 'scare the hell out of people' design book. She thought she'd probably be more surprised if his teeth were like hers. "My name is Kitty," she said. She took a slice of fruit from the plate. She wanted to sit down, but she didn't want to get any closer to the revelers within the room. "Ach, where are my manners?" he muttered. "I am Kurt Wag... I'm Kurt." "No you're not," she said with a smile. "Was... Pardon?" His dark brows furled in confusion. "That is my name." "You haven't been rude to me," she insisted, nearly giggling again. The more expression she saw on his face, the easier it was to understand them. He stared at her, baffled and completely forgetting to be self-conscious around her. His eyes flashed suddenly, and his mouth widened into a real smile. He pointed at her with a big finger. "You're making a pun," he accused. "That's not fair, Katzchen, English is not my first language. That would be like my making puns in German about your name." Did his cheeks just color? "Katzchen?" "It means kitten," he explained. "Would you rather I used Kitty?" "No, Katzchen is fine." She looked briefly into the room and flinched at a gust of drunken laughter. "I wish we could go somewhere else." He nodded, the look of distaste on his face mirroring her own. "Let's try." He took her hand and pulled her to the guard. Fuzz that she'd thought might be bristly or stiff turned out to be soft velvet to the touch. "Can we go somewhere else?" he asked him. "Got red cards?" the guard said. They both pulled out a red card. "Well, you can't go back to your dorms with those until curfew. You going together?" "Yes," he said, and this time she knew she saw the purple on his cheeks. "It's allowed, just don't go anywhere restricted. Understand?" "Ja, thank you." He motioned for her to follow him and he led her through the hallways. "Where are we going," she said, rushing to keep up. "Someplace quiet and out of the way. My quarters." "You have separate quarters?" How did he rate that? "They," he hooked a heavy thumb back over his shoulder as they entered an elevator, "...kept confusing me with the exercise equipment. Specifically with a punching bag." "Oh," she said. They left the elevator into another hallway. He opened a door, and gestured for her to precede him. She hesitated for a moment, flushing. Was she really going into a boy's private rooms without a chaperone? He looked at her blush, and bowed his head. "I promise to be a gentleman, Katzchen." She smiled a little and shrugged. "It's not like we didn't see enough stuff at the Social." She stepped into the small but clean kitchen. A hallway to the left ended in a hanging cloth, to the right a bar opened onto a living room furnished in early Rummage Sale. He got some juice out of his fridge, and put it on the table. He added a Tupperware bowl of lunchmeats next to the plate of cheeses from the party. A bag of apples was the final offering. He took out some dishes and helped her into one of the miss-matched chairs, then sat in the other. He poured them each a glass of juice, and then made a thick meat and cheese roll. He put an apple on his plate, and cocked his head at her. "Not hungry?" She took an apple. "Do you have any meat without pork?" She couldn't always avoid it here, but she tried. He offered her some beef bologna, and she nibbled on a piece as she watched him clean his plate, and a second apple, as well. "So, what kind of jokes could you make in German from my name?" He paused while pouring himself another glass of juice. He colored faintly, and finished pouring. "Ah, well, even in English, I believe there are... other meanings for some of the words for 'cat'." "Ah," she said, coloring herself. Time to change the subject. "How can you eat like that? Dinner wasn't that long ago." "I have a high metabolism, and lots of activity means I need lots of fuel. Are you done with the lunchmeat?" he asked, standing. She nodded, and he laid out a few more apples, then opened the fridge with his tail. Picking up the bowl and apple bag, he put them away, letting his tail swing the door closed again. He saw her looking at it, and smiled. "Yes, it does come in handy at times." He sat down, and his yellow eyes watched her finish her apple over the rim of his glass. She made a neat core of it, and put it down on her plate. His face was so serious again. Now what? He put his glass down with great care, and stood. He took a deep breath, and held out his strange hand to her. "Will you dance with me, Katzchen," he asked softly. "Dance? Here?" She blinked at him. His head inclined to the living room. "In there, actually." His voice sounded strained and his hand started to tremble. She took it in hers, rubbing her thumb over the velvet on the back of his hand. "Alright." She started to push back from the table, and he hastened to pull out her chair. He led her to the next room and moved a large wiring spool out of the way. He turned to a shelf, and started pulling records out of their sleeves, stacking them up on the top of the record spindle. The arm on the player was a different color than the rest of the unit, but as the first disk started spinning, the arm obediently moved over and set down the needle. A hiss, and a hum, and music began playing. It was a fast and sprightly Big Band song, with lots of brass and strings. He held out his hand again, and she took it easily. They began to move with the music. He was so graceful, she felt awkward. Her Dad had taught her the basics of dancing, but she was nowhere near as good as Kurt. They danced with one hand clasped together, swiveling in time. "Relax," he murmured. "Don't be so tense." He tugged on her hand, and spun her close to him and let her spiral away until they were at arms' length. Then he gently pulled her back again. His eyes were positively gleaming, and the look on his face could only be happiness. She smiled at him, and he grinned back at her, his bright teeth shining in contrast against his dark face. The record finished, and they stopped, catching their breath. The arm lifted and moved to the side, and the next album shivered down the spindle to the platter. The needle found the new groove, and soft smoky jazz started playing, the rhythm as definite as before, but slower. Slowly, he pulled her closer, until their forearms were touching. His other hand moved lightly to her waist, and she laid hers on his shoulder. They turned, and turned again, body's close, but not quite touching. She looked up at him. His eyes were half closed, and his features were dreamy, lost in the moment. It looked like a good idea. Something this nice couldn't last. She pressed closer, and leaned her cheek on his shoulder. He was a little taller than she was, and it was a comfortable place to rest her head. He gasped, stiffening, but she didn't react, or pull away. He relaxed, and his lower hand moved around to her back. She felt his tail follow the movement of his hand, and loosely wrap around her back and then his. He leaned his cheek down against her hair. She sighed and accepted the warmth of his embrace, giving herself up to the music. Chapter Four Back to Fanfics Back to Series Index Back to Main Hall |