Subject: [OTL]: [Kitty, Rachel] Destiny [11:11]
Date: Wed, 11 Dec 2002 20:03:13 -0800 (PST)
From: D Benway <d_benway@yahoo.com>

Destiny [11:11]

prognosticated by Benway

This story makes not-for-profit use of some characters belonging to
Marvel Comics and DC Comics. Many thanks to Luba and Sevenall for
massive editorial assistance.

This story has some horrible bits, but nothing too gratuitous. No
recognizable political figures were subject to harsh and abusive
ridicule in the manufacture of this document. Spam is a registered
trademark of the Hormel Corp.

___________________________________________________________

She stood in the yard of their little house in LaGrange, watching the
leaves burn. She looked up as a fire truck went by, heading for the
local Thanksgiving Day parade. The driver smiled at her and waved. A
Dalmatian, who had moments before been hanging its head out of the
window, bolted back inside the cab and began barking wildly.

It had been almost a year to the day since she had recited the spell,
and, as if to commemorate the event, she had received a package in the
mail. She recognized the characters on the stamp, even if the word LENG
was obscured by the postmark. The image, however, was entirely visible
this time. It appeared to be a stone idol of a giant toad, with what
looked like a pair human legs protruding from its mouth. She checked
the return address. It wasn't from the Hilton Towers, this time.
Instead, it was from The Abbey, 11 Curzon Road, Leng Cantonment.

Inside the envelope was a note, addressed to her. It was not written in
Irene Adler's fancy European script. Rather, it was typed on an
old-fashioned typewriter.

Dear Miss Pryde, (she read)

I must begin by apologizing for not having written to you by hand. I
have had to dictate this letter to a handmaiden, after I tripped and
sprained my wrist while attending to my duties yesterday morning. It's
this accursed yellow silk mask I must wear, lest I be recognized by
younger self as he flies overhead or drops by for a visit, as I know he
is one day destined to do. Were I to be recognized, you cannot begin to
imagine the difficulties that would arise. I must also apologize for
certain remarks in my diary that may have offended you. When I was
younger, I was afflicted by a certain narrow-mindedness that I was
delivered of through the agency of what I would once have called
'amorphous bat-winged blasphemies'. This has also caused me to feel a
certain amount of sympathy for what you must be enduring right now,
especially if Chicago remains as uncivilized as it once was.

No fucking kidding, she thought. Only the week before, someone had
lobbed a brick through her front window, accusing her of numerous sins,
none of which were technically still illegal. Happily, the neighbours
were quite understanding. She had determined the identity of the brick
thrower and had administered a little rough justice, Chicago-style.

If you are reading this (she read), then you will have survived the
trials that were put before you. The dire fates that awaited both you
and your world have been thwarted, although I cannot be sure that your
people might not come up with some other monstrous stupidity that will
surely doom you all. There is only so much that I or Miss Adler could
foretell. Nonetheless, we could not complete our duties without passing
on to you and your little friend the consequences of your actions. Miss
Adler commissioned a piece of art which ties up the loose ends very
nicely, and which you will find enclosed.

I trust that you will have the happy life that you have earned through
your actions, much as every other happy life has been so earned.

Sincerely, Randolph Carter, Abbot.

"Prick," she muttered to herself.

She unfolded the other piece of paper. On it was a drawing in crayon,
obviously by a small child. Half the paper was covered in a black mass
that had the odd bit of red and lots of eyes floating in it. It also
had teeth, and they were chewing on two blond figures, a boy and a
girl. The boy was crying tears of blood, the girl was smiling. At the
bottom was written in a childish imitation of Irene Adler's hand, "I
drawed it like you told me to, signed R". The word 'drawed' was crossed
out, and 'drew' written in above it in Adler's own handwriting.

"Thanks a bunch," she muttered.

She heard the screen door open and bang closed behind her. She turned
to see Rachel bounding out on two feet, but clearly wanting to go down
on all fours.

"Hey, Tiger," she said.

"Mmm, Kat-lady," said Rachel.

The house hadn't been too expensive. It hadn't been quite as remote as
she'd wanted it to be, but it had contained one thing that no other
house that she'd looked at had: a chain-link-fenced-in enclosure with a
concrete floor in the basement. The man from the Cook County Sheriff's
office had explained to her that the house had been seized from a
nutcase who had kept 2 panthers and small rhinoceros in his basement
until a most unfortunate accident had happened. The animals had been
destroyed, but one cage had remained intact.

Filling that cage had proven difficult. Rachel had bolted from the
abandoned factory right after killing all the dogs, and Kitty had not
been able to keep up with her. Rachel had hidden in the 50 square miles
of wilderness surrounding Lake Calumet, and had also been seen by just
enough people to have the entire woods crawling with people hunting the
Calumet Panther, scourge of dog owners in South Deering. Kitty too had
tried hunting, but that had produced some awkward encounters with the
cops, who had confiscated the taser. She had quickly replaced it, and
one night had gone down to the shore of Lake Calumet with a rented car
and had sat in the front seat meditating on Rachel. Every so often she
would turn on the light and look at the last photos she took of Ray by
the lighthouse, wearing the smallest bikini that would be considered
legal in Scotland. After an hour, she had come back down to see two
golden eyes, looking straight through the driver's side window. She had
been just quick enough with the taser to nail Rachel before she ran
away, but stuffing an unconscious, six-foot-tall cat-woman in perfect
physical shape into the trunk of the car had almost killed her.

Rachel hadn't adapted well to captivity at first, but after more
meditation, Rachel finally stopped trying to claw through the concrete
and started eating again. A week after, she had entered the cage for
the first time, and had used the taser. A week after that, she no
longer needed the taser and Rachel had spoken her first words.

"Watcha doin'?" said Rachel.

"Burning leaves, looking at the mail," said Kitty.

"Gold-digger come today?" said Rachel.

"No," said Kitty. "Not until next week."

"Mmph," said Rachel, pouting.

Westchester had not reacted well when they had discovered what she had
been up to. They had landed in a converted Shi'ar shuttle, right in the
middle of Spring St, and emerged in full battle gear. She had
understood that they were upset about the sudden disappearance of
Nathan Summers, but she hadn't been expecting a full frontal assault.
The Prof had been furious. He had demanded to know why she hadn't
brought Rachel to him immediately, so that the blocks in her mind could
be cleared. Kitty had asserted that the blocks were being cleared just
fine by what she was doing, when a livid Scott Summers had come in from
their bedroom with a body fluids scanner and had decked her with a
single punch. The fur had really flown after that, and it had taken
over two hours to convince the local police not to press charges, and
another five to get the Prof and Scott and Logan to calm down. Jean had
been tense but helpful, while Jubilee had shown the most sense of all
of them by managing to get everyone horribly drunk. Sam and some of the
GenX kids had fixed the roof the next day, and on the last day they had
had a block party, emphatically not attended by Xavier, Scott, or
Ororo. Rachel was talking in complete sentences at that point, and had
managed to convince most of them that it was not through imprinting but
by choice that she was staying.

"I know what you're thinking," said Rachel, nibbling on her ear.

"Do you blame me?" said Kitty.

After that, things had taken a turn for the better. First, Charles had
finally tied the knot with Lilandra, and had been appointed to the
Shi'ar Privy Council. Under his direction, the empire had fragmented
into a loose confederation, a transformation that had sent ripples
through their galaxy and most of the neighboring ones. After the
signing of the dissolution, there had been a celebration at which
Charles, the Skrull empress, a troop of X'noxian acrobats, and the
Supreme Intelligence of the Kree had ended up locked in a psychic
erotic feedback loop for the better part of a week. The result was an
end to millenia of intergalactic war and a forest of phosphorescent
green tentacles sprouting from Charles' head. There had been a
reconciliation, after that. Two weeks later, they had both been invited
to watch Scott and Jean renew their vows. A week after that, Raven's
and Val's wedding had been crashed by Logan and Mariko, freshly
returned from the dead. A week after the double wedding of Logan and
Mariko and Viper and the Silver Samurai, Ororo and Yukio had come out
and had also tied the knot in Burlington, Vermont. At that wedding,
Jubilee had announced her pregnancy and had fingered Jono as the man
responsible. Angelo had been put out by that, but had married Paige the
next week. Little Jose had been born 6 months later, and Maria's
arrival was 3 months away. They had weddings, christenings, and
anniversaries to go to every second weekend for the next year. She had
been thinking about kids herself, lately. There was no natural way for
kids to come from her relationship, but she knew that there was a vial
of Doug's sperm somewhere in a freezer in Westchester, and she was
reasonably sure she could persuade Hank to spare a little.

"For what?" purred Rachel.

"For this," said Kitty, showing her the picture.

Rachel looked at it for some time, frowning.

"For me," said Rachel. "You did this for me."

"For you," said Kitty. "For all of us."

"Gimme the letter," said Rachel.

Kitty handed it over. Rachel read it, lips moving in synch with the
words.

"What a fucking prick," said Rachel.

"No kidding," said Kitty.

"Sooooo," said Rachel. "What's the problem?"

"I-" said Kitty. "I killed-"

"Six billion people," said Rachel, finishing the thought.

"I'm-" said Kitty.

"The biggest killer on the planet?" said Rachel. "Guilty of the
greatest genocide in the history of humankind?"

"Yes," said Kitty.

"Pffff," said Rachel. "You hadn't done it, six billion other people'd
all be dead, including you and me and everyone else we know."

"But-" said Kitty.

"Hey," said Rachel, drawing her in close.

"I-" said Kitty.

Rachel threw the letter and the picture into the fire.

"Sometimes, you've just gotta smile," said Rachel. "It's the only way
to stop yourself from screaming."

Kitty smiled, in spite of herself.

"I guess not everyone can walk away from Omelas," said Kitty.

"Guess not," said Rachel. "You still got the envelope that letter came
in?"

"It's got a stamp," said Kitty.

"From Leng?" said Rachel.

"Yeah," said Kitty. "It's got a toad god and everything."

She handed it over. Rachel stared at it open-mouthed, then folded it
and hid it away in her jacket.

"You can be such a geek," said Kitty.

"Like cool stamps," said Rachel.

The local philatelic club had become the largest in Cook County, since
Rachel had become a member.

"Hey," said Rachel, taking her in tight.

Kitty felt herself wrapped in 4 feet of near-prehensile tail.

"Like to feel some more of that," said Kitty. "Without the leather in
the way."

"Mmmm," said Rachel.

As the screen door of the little white clapboard house slammed shut
behind them, the last of the letter and the picture burned away to
nothing.

FIN

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