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You were just one of the Rats’ foot soldiers. Nobody important; expendable even. Of course, you knew that going into it, even if many of the others of your station hadn't seemed to grasp it.
You'd met the leader once before. At a first glance, he didn't look like much. Just a pale, thin man with black hair. But there was an air about him, almost an aura of power that drew you to him. It made you hang off of his every word. It made you feel like he was holding the world in the palm of his hand, and nobody else had realized it.
He felt like a god.
If joining this man's organization was what it took to give you purpose in your life, sobeit. After all, it was his charismatic words and burning purpose that swept you away. You didn't join just because he was pretty.
…Well, that might've played more part in your decision than you're willing to admit, but it was still only a part of it.
You truly never expected to encounter the leader again. Fyodor Dostoyevsky was untouchable; even his most loyal follower, Ivan, was out of reach for ones such as you.
So when Ivan himself approached you, you of all people, and told you that ‘Master Fyodor’ wanted to see you, well. What else could you do but follow?
Maybe he was rewarding your loyalty. Maybe some special talent of yours was being recognized. Maybe he had a job only you could carry out! You hoped and hoped… and deep down, you could admit that it was unlikely that anything good could come of this.
The room you were brought to was breathtaking. Pure whites upon whites- it was somewhere between eerie and heavenly. And, befitting of heaven, Fyodor himself sat serenely, and you thought in that moment he must be an angel.
His eyes opened, and you felt pinned beneath their gaze. A small smile graced his face, but there was no hint of warmth in it. Only cold amusement.
He said your name and your heart nearly leapt from your chest that he knew it at all. He beckoned you forward, motioning for you to sit in the chair across from him. Nervously, you did so.
“I have a job for you, and a gift,” he said.
What kind of job? What kind of gift? You weren't sure which to ask, so you asked neither.
“Yes, sir,” you said with a bow of your head. “I will do my best.”
“Good.”
A sparkle of red against the white table caught your attention. Fyodor had placed a glimmering red crystal in the center.
“Do you know what this is?”
“No, sir.” You ventured a guess. “Is it some kind of gem or crystal?”
“This is an ability,” answered the man.
You jerked back in shock. You knew that some of the higher ranking members of the Rats in the House of the Dead had supernatural abilities. Nobody knew exactly where they came from. And here one was, apparently crystalized. Was this how people gained abilities in the first place?
Fyodor smirked at your surprise, but continued to speak.
“The previous user of this ability perished long ago. It was collected from them, and I in turn collected it from its collector, along with several others.”
“Why are you telling me this, sir?” You asked cautiously, your heart pounding.
“Because it is your gift.”
Your eyes widened in shock.
“M-me?” It was insane. It was incredible. It was too good to be true, and yet it was happening before your eyes.
“This ability allows the user to transform into a cat,” he continued. Your eyes drifted back up to him for a moment, but settled upon the crystalized ability once more. “Not a powerful ability by any measure, not even the most powerful cat related ability. But an incredible tool for espionage.”
Your breath caught. Espionage. A spy. A thrill, a mix of fear and excitement, went through your heart. You weren't sure you were the right pick for the job; you were just a foot soldier. But…
“If you think I can handle it, sir, I will defer to your judgement,” you said breathlessly, bowing your head once more. “I will do my utmost to carry out this mission.”
“Very good,” he said and your heart skipped another beat.
Ivan Goncharov had always baffled you. Though you'd met the man he all but worshipped, you couldn't understand why he was so fanatic. But now… you were starting to understand what could drive someone to worshipful devotion. There was something empowering about the praise of one that you knew must be above humanity.
“To claim the ability as your own, you must eat the crystal. It will likely be a painful transformation as you were not born with an ability of your own, but you will be able to use it as if it were always yours.”
With only a little trepidation, you plucked the crystal off the table. It was warm and seemed to hum in your hands. You hoped you wouldn't choke on it - what an embarrassment that would be.
Then, before you could question yourself, you popped it into your mouth and bit down.
The next few minutes were a blur of pain and screaming that you knew must be your own. There was a burning spike in your soul that was wrong wrong wrong shouldn't be there. But slowly, you began to adjust to it. The burning softened into a warmth as your soul accepted the new power as your own.
You opened your eyes to find yourself lying on the floor. Your body felt a bit sore, likely from thrashing in pain, and your tongue tasted like iron. You caught a sight of Fyodor’s boots in the corner of your eye, and hurriedly pushed yourself to your feet.
“A quicker recovery time than some of the others,” he said with mild surprise. “Can you feel it?”
You closed your eyes. You weren't sure what you were looking for, exactly, but it didn't matter. As soon as you tried, you knew exactly what he meant.
“Yes,” you said in amazement. “Yes I can.”
“Activate it.”
You did as ordered, and suddenly felt a wave of dizziness as the world seemed to shift around you.
Colors seemed to fade, but your other senses sharpened. You could hear the electric hum of the security system and smell a faint scent of tea that had been drank some time before you entered the room.
Your body shifted and shrank, and you fell forward onto your hands- no, your paws for better balance.
When the change finished, you shook yourself off, and looked around. Fyodor had always been intimidating, but the effect was even greater now that you didn't reach his knees.
Seeing it as a good opportunity to test out your new cat body, you leapt to the chair you'd been sitting in and then to the table. Luckily, the movement came naturally to you.
Fyodor held out his hand, and you leaned forward to sniff it, as it felt like the only natural action.
“Good, it seems the instincts of a cat are inherent to the ability, not a learned trait,” Fyodor said as he began to pet you.
The motion startled you at first, but you didn't shy away. It seemed rude, for one thing, but you were also curious.
It was quite pleasant, actually; very like the sensation of having your hair played with, but all over. You closed your eyes, somehow not at all embarrassed to be pet by your boss. You were a cat, after all, and petting a cat was just the natural thing to do. You could feel what you suspected was a purr building in your chest as he stroked your spine.
Then, in a swift movement you probably couldn't have avoided even if your eyes had been open, something cold closed around your neck with a click.
Your eyes shot open, and you twisted your head, trying to see what was on you. The motion made a bell around your neck jingle and you froze.
A collar. He'd put a collar around your neck.
You looked up at Fyodor in shock, not having expected the action. He smirked down at you, expression unchanged.
Well… you'd assumed you'd be going undercover as a stray cat, but a collar would help you blend in? You would've appreciated a warning… but something still felt off.
Cold, cold against your fur. It wasn't a cloth or leather collar. It was metal.
Unyielding. Impossible to get off on your own. Changing back might be a problem with it on, as it was too small to fit around a human neck. It would likely crush your windpipe if you turned back now… oh.
You knew something about this was too good to be true.
You instinctively clawed at the collar in panic. Of course, it didn't budge. It wouldn't come off until Fyodor removed it. You couldn't change back until Fyodor permitted it.
Fear and betrayal swam in your eyes, though you had no idea if Fyodor could read your expression as a cat. You looked up at him, your heart plummeting with dread.
To your shock, he stroked you again.
“Good kitty,” he said with just a hint of condescension. You could feel your fur puffing up, making you look bigger in the face of the predator before you. But you didn't dare run, not when he held your fate in his hands.
“So you're smart enough to not try and turn back with that on; good instincts in my new spy.” He finally stopped petting you, a sensation that was much less comforting now. “The collar is electronic; there's a fingerprint reader that only responds to my print. You can think of it as extra incentive, to make sure you perform your job perfectly.”
You let out a yowl of displeasure. You would have been a faithful spy even without the collar. It was unnecessary; and you were pretty sure he knew that. The amusement on his face made it clear; he found your plight entertaining.
“You may be wondering how I intend for you to spy when you can't speak.”
You nodded, a motion that felt strangely awkward as a cat. Your tail flicked unhappily as you fought the urge to get as far away from Fyodor as possible.
“It's simple; I don't need you to give reports. There is a camera hidden in your collar. It will record anything you see.” He flicked the bell dangling from the collar and you flinched. “I will be giving you bugs to plant in places, and you will bring back scraps of information when you can find them. In other words, there is no need for you to speak. There is no need for you to change back at all.”
You yowled again, looking up at him with a plaintive expression. Surely he couldn't mean to leave you as a cat your entire mission… right?
“Loyalty can be bent and broken. Spies in particular are a risky business,” he began, leaning back in his chair.
“It is too easy for them to bond with their targets, and change loyalties. This,” he tapped your collar, “ensures that you will always come back, no matter the bond. It ensures that you will always give the most accurate information, for the sake of your humanity.”
He leaned forward again, and his smile turned cruel. He reached behind you, and you felt his fingers digging into your fur.
“It means,” he said, voice as cold as a glacier, “that you will never turn against me, for I am the only one who can free you.”
Every nerve in your body screamed at you to run, but Fyodor had grabbed the scruff of your neck in a grip just shy of painful. You were trapped, in more ways than one. You knew he could feel the way your pulse raced.
“Do you understand?”
You lowered your eyes, and, once he released your scruff, laid down in front of him in a show of submission.
With that, you knew. From that moment on, he wasn't your boss, he was your master. And you weren't an employee, you were his pet.
He stroked your back once more, the motion a bitter mixture of false comfort and dominance.
“Good kitty.”