Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“P- Please… you don’t know what you’re doing.”

Calvin backed The Other Overseer, the frightened, naked man mere inches away from the bottomless pit. The insurgent stood there, where his sympathy should've been was a burning sense of duty and wrath, which burnt almost as brightly as the lit lighter sitting under the old parchment contract. The embers started small, creeping up the sheet. They quickly grew into a mighty flame, engulfing the bottom half of the sheet. o5-13 watched in horror as the contract was completely consumed by the fire. As the ash and smoke cleared from Calvin’s hands, a figure appeared behind him.

Death.

She removed her hood, revealing a face of grayish pale skin and whited out eyes. Hair as smooth as silk and white like ivory nearly touched the floor. Each of her steps sent a deafening echo throughout the towering room.

“Calvin Lucien.”
“Death? Coming to claim the demon’s soul I see.”
“Not quite.”
“Right. Still have to kill the guy.”

Calvin aimed his pistol at the man, but Death placed her long and cold right hand on his shoulder.

“Wait.”
“Why?”
“Watch.”

Thirteen keeled over, gagging. He heaved and Calvin stepped away from the puddle of clear green bile. Death covered his eyes and ears, as The Overseer shrunk. He screeched in what sounded like pure and utter agony. Calvin readied his gun. He expected to open his eyes and stare face to face with a being straight out of hell or to completely lose his mind over an eldritch horror. But after a minute, Death pulled her hands away to show Calvin would the man had become.

Dr. Felix Alexander Carter was now a cat.

Calvin rubbed his eyes. He had to be seeing things wrong. But no. The Thirteenth Overseer had not transformed into a beast, not even into something threatening, but into a small feline with big ears, wide hazel gold eyes, and short scruffy dusty gray fur. He stumbled around, barely able to stand on his lanky little legs. He wore a tight white leather collar, a sigil of a flaming bovine skull engraved into the steel tag. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a terrified meow. Calvin grabbed Felix before he could fall off the dais and into the infinite abyss below. He walked backwards, gripping onto the handrail of the walkway. He never felt so paranoid, so aware of the immediate danger, which was right now, the pit.

"Felix Carter . . ."
"Yes, he's a cat."
"I must be seeing things.."
"You're not. Trust me."
"Why is he a cat..?"
"They all are."
"All of The Overseers are cats?!"
"Yes."
"Why?!"

Death sat down, leaning against the railing. She gestured Calvin to do so as well and so he did, keeping The transformed Overseer on his lap. The cat stared into space, shifting uncomfortably and terribly worried about something.

"The Overseers. They aren't from this world. Not this universe. Not this timeline."
"A timeline where everyone is a cat?"
"Exactly. But it was destroyed."
"How? By what?"
"I don't know. What I do know is that they're the only survivors. After a while of staying in this new dimension, they contacted me."
"To become immortal right?"
"Yes and more. I gave them their immortality for no extra deal."
"Wait why?"
"Well that's 13 less people I need to write paperwork on whether they should go to hell or not. It's a win win scenario you know?"
"Fair."
"So after immortality they asked for something else. A human body. So that they could run the foundation in a world not made for them. In return I would have the body of Felix Carter to possess at times. To be a member."
"Why didn't you stop me from destroying the contract then?"
"There's something in the heart of the council. I thought that if I could have a seat at their table, I could find it and make it die. But try as I might, I couldn't. I can't. It won't die. It is out of my reach. Maybe by dismantling this council, I can dismantle it.
"What is this it?"
"I don't know. Even some things seem to be beyond my grasp."

Calvin stared down at the cat. His hand started drifting towards the handgun next to him. Cat or not, he was still An Overseer and must die. He lifted it just a few inches off the ground. Deaths face did not falter. Felix could only watch. He needed to kill this cat. It was his mission, his mission as an insurgent. He gritted his teeth, his finger hesitating by the trigger.

He fired his gun into the ceiling, emptying it of all of its ammo. Felix jumped and hissed at the deafening boom of the weapon, before being cradled and hugged by Calvin. There were tears in his eyes. He couldn't kill a scared kitten. He could easily kill a fellow man and, if he had to, a child. But he just couldn't bring himself to hurt a cat.

"I can't… I just can't.”
“You can’t kill him?”
“The Foundation has been destroyed anyway. A bunch of cats can't run The Foundation. My goal is already achieved. The mission has been completed..."
"True."

Calvin and Death stared at the small trembling cat. Felix kept trying to speak, force an actual word out of his throat, but all he could do is meow.

"What is he saying?"
"He wants me to hold him."

Death picked up Felix and brought him close to her chest, shushing him like a mother to her crying infant, as they both made their way back to the elevator.

— - —

"AWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!"
"Wait what?"
"Felix...?"

Adam, Olivia and Anthony stared at the former-human-now-cat Felix Carter. Adam immediately reached to pet him, but Death slapped his hand away.

"I advise not."
"Why?"
"Well how would you feel if some big tall stranger suddenly touched your head?"
"I wouldn't mind being pet by you."

Death ruffled up Adam's hair and the boy just smiled. "My point still stands. Felix isn't in the mood for pets”, she sighed. Olivia asked.

"I know this question is completely left field but... what breed is he?"
"Cornish Rex."
"He's a little furry for a Cornish Rex, isn't he?"
"His great great grandmother was a quite fluffy Turkish Angora."

Anthony stood there, completely still, in shock and confused. His former colleague, one of his greatest enemies, was a cat disguised as a human this whole time. And not just him. All thirteen of them were cats this entire time.

Thinking back, he honestly shouldn't be surprised. The way they always jumped at loud noises, hated long car rides. They loved small spaces to hide in and immediately despised anyone they didn't know well. One time he bought himself a nice perfume with peppermint after notes and they avoided him like the plague. He just thought they were autistic. But them being cats made a lot more sense.

"Can I.. hold him?"

Death gave Anthony Felix.

"Wait. Don't leave his hind legs dangling like that. Always keep his butt supported as well."
"Wait why?"
"They feel unsafe and unsupported if you let their legs dangle."

Anthony repositioned the cat, cradling him. Felix trembled, his ears pressed against the side of his head and tail tucked under his body. He meowed at him. Adam, Olivia and Calvin were discussing their next move.

Felix was one of the closest to him, second only to Aaron. A very pleasant guy, definitely. They talked for hours about physics and quantum mechanics. He was at least twice as old as him. By the time he finally got to meet the man in person, his hair was already thin and silver. But that never affected their friendship tho and of course he started looking younger once they found the fountain of youth. He was always cheerful, a little shy. He had a terrible sense of balance and a nervous stutter, which should’ve disappeared in his teenaged years. The one thing that truly bothered him was how little he thought of himself. How easily he would give up credit to someone else. How ready he was to sacrifice himself for others. How little he thought of himself. It was always him last and everyone else before him.

The cat meowed again, louder.

"He wants to speak with you."
"Fuck... well then what is he saying?"
"He's asking if you're Vincent Arians."
"..."

Anthony nearly jumped at that question. Vincent Arians. That name opened old scars. A reminder of who he once was and the horrors he had committed. He tried to escape that fact many times, adopting new identities, but it seems nothing could truly ever free him of his past. He turned his head away, ashamed, and sighed: "Yes. That's me."
Felix only meowed louder, clawing at his armor. He wasn't angry. He just needed him to know.

"What's he saying now?"
"He needs you to believe something."
"Believe what?"
"You've made a mistake."
"Can you be more specific?"
"I'm just translating what he's saying."
"Can he understand me?"
"... I'm not sure."
"What's he saying now?"
"I don't know. He's just saying no and stop it all over again."

Anthony tried putting the cat down, but he clung onto the insurgent. Death translated what he was saying, her flat voice bastardizing the tone he was trying to convey.

"Please you don't understand what you've done. No. No. Shit. The end is here. Turn me back. Someone do something-"
"Uh, thank you... what should I call you?"
"Death."
"Thank you."

Anthony placed the Cornish Rex on the ground, gripping him by his shoulders. He gave him a stern look.

"Hey, Carter? I don't know if you can understand me. Hey. Hey! Carter! Felix! Felix look at me!"

He snapped his fingers and chattered, getting the feline's attention.

"I don't know what's going, but we will fix this. Okay? Everything is gonna be okay. You hear me? Can you stay calm now?"

Felix stopped meowing, as Anthony raised his hand above his head, waiting for the cat's approval. He nodded and Anthony patted his head.

"Good…”, Anthony stopped himself. Calling an old colleague a good boy would probably garner him a strange look.

— - —

Delta Command considered Mission Summa Modus Operandi a success. They wanted that Calvin and his team take on a new mission, as the world would quickly dissolve into chaos now that The Foundation was soon to collapse. Calvin, Olivia, and Adam accepted this. But Anthony, Vincent, for some fucking reason, just couldn't.
He found himself sitting on the roof of some abandoned building, smoking. His suit collected dust from the rubble and his feet, fitted with the only good pair of dress shoes he could find, dangled from the edge. Downstairs, the higher ups and fellow agents were partying, drinking champagne and dancing to 60s swing from a shabby radio almost as old as him. They were celebrating, but Anthony was in no mood for celebration.
Wright felt a familiar presence behind him. He turned around. It was Death, sauntering towards him.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”
"You’re unhappy.”
"..."
"Why? Are you not satisfied? The Foundation is unraveling as we speak. Isn’t this what you wanted?”
"I've lived for too long. I can't remember how old I am anymore. That Water of Whatever fucked me up.."
"Should I kill you?"
"What?"

Death drew out a mighty scythe. His gaze was locked onto the blade, shiny as a mirror and sharper than an eagle's eyesight.

"I don't do this a lot. I don't wish to do it either. But if you really think your time is up, I can spare you the time and let you join the great majority.”

Anthony dragged off his cigarette, genuinely contemplating the choice. How easy it would be to just die, right here right now. It was what he wanted. It was what his old tired soul was longing for. He would die as a great one, the man who kept the organization which killed the thirteen tyrants of this world in check. Yet he shook his head. There was something missing. Something he still wanted to accomplish. Something unfinished that sought to be completed.

"No.."
"Then what is it you long for?"
"..."
"Are you upset you didn't get the satisfaction of seeing The Overseers blood across your hands?"
"What? No!"
"Then what is it?"
"... Closure."
"Ah-ha. I get it. You wanted that mission to be your closure. But you found its abrupt end very .. dissatisfactory."
"Of course!"
"So what do you want to do now?"
"... The Overseers."
"You're worried about them?"
"I mean—! I .. well they're a bunch of cats now! God knows what they're going through right now!"
"Do you know where they are?"
"No! Well.."

Anthony pulled a small blue note book out of his pocket.

"Stole this from Calvin."
"What is it?"
"It's a journal with all sorts of info about the bastards. Including where they're possibly at. We were going to use this for the mission, but of course never up actually doing that."
"So you actually plan on looking for the other twelve overseers."
"Yes.. I just... don't know where to start exactly. I mean... The Insurgency doesn’t approve of the idea. I don't have any resources."
"I will join you."
"Really?"

Death sat next to him.

"Your goals are aligned with mine. You want to see them safe and happy."
"Why do you care?"
"I can ask the same for you."

There was a long, awkward silence between the two. Between two who refuse to admit their feelings over old acquaintances.

"I'll go first. When I first made the deal with those cats, I had to teach them for a good two weeks on how to do everything. Walk, talk, act normally, just being a human. I tried to keep the relationship as barebones and professional as possible. But I must admit, if I were to tell anyone nearly as powerful as I am, how much I truly care about them, I would never hear the end of it.”

Anthony nodded in respect.

"My turn I guess. I was close friends with Aaron. Through him I met the rest of the council. I couldn't have spent more than a year with them, building the foundation and all, but... well I still think about them. Strange bunch. Bat shit crazy bunch. Of course Aaron and I defected and then he undefected I guess. That's when I started resenting them. But… god, I wish they could've seen what I saw and left that foundation to rot. Not because I want them to believe me, but because I want to see them standing proudly at my side again.”

Anthony drew another cigarette out of the box, but Death snatched his lighter. He gave her a “wtf was that for?” gaze and she stared back with eyes that could only say “smoking kills”. He grunted.

“Calvin told me you mentioned something about trying to make something in the council die?"
"There's something within the overwatch command. It's not The Overseers themselves, but it festers within their group. The other gods can feel it as well. I even asked them about it once and they didn't say anything noteworthy. It's like … how do I describe it. Like the flower garden which attracts the bees."
"Or a corpse which attracts the flies."
"They're working towards something, something that has to do with it. But just what it is I don't know."
"Maybe it's what Felix was freaking out about. Too bad he's dead."
“Dead?”

Death lifted her cloak and, to the amazement of Anthony, the Cornish Rex peeped out.

"He's alive?!"
"They're still bound to my death contract."
"I thought they said they were going to euthanize him!"
"As if I would ever let that happen."

He petted the cat, smiling like a drunk idiot. Felix was still nervous, but tried to keep his composure. He meowed.

"What did he say?"
"He called you Vincent."

Anthony zoned out for a moment.

"Sorry! It's just I haven't been called that for so long. It's like if I called you Azrael or something."
"Oh don't remind me of that old version of me."

He snickered.

"But… I guess I can be Vincent again. That young bastard. Full of hope and love for his friends. I don’t know, you get what I mean?”
"I’ve seen people go through more confusing identity crisis, don’t think I don’t understand what you mean.”

Felix meowed again.

"What now?"
"He said you stink.”

Vincent laughed. It's been far too long since he had a genuine good laugh.

"Well I guess that never changes. The Overseers always had something to say about my scent.”
"Well what are we waiting for?"
"We're going now?"
"Of course."
"Hold on! We don’t have any support from The Insurgency! How the hell are we supposed to get the resources we—"
"Have you forgotten who you're talking to?"
"… Right! You’re Death. But how are we gonna find them?"

Death stared at him like he was a dumbass.

“Right. You’re Death.”

Chapter Text

“Why are we heading to Tokyo again?"

Vincent leaned back in his train seat, pulling his backpack onto his lap. Death sat across him, skin pale yet warm and eyes full of light and soul. She had to look at least somewhat human to not draw suspicion. Vincent glanced at the table, then towards the other travelers, ordinary people. He looked down at his clothes. Instead of heavy duty military gear, he wore comfy and casual attire, with a new set of loafers Death bought him. He looked in his bag. The lack of any weaponry, rations or first aid kit threw him off. This didn't feel like a mission. But I guess you don't need those things when you got an almost all powerful goddess on your side.

Death answered, her voice ever so slightly muffled through the fabric face mask. 

“Omar loves Japan. He visits the place every three months, always making sure he’s there on the fifth day exactly. Probably for all of that predicting stock markets and stuff. I can’t imagine he’s been able to leave the country since he’s gotten here.”
“Okay, but it's already the ninth. Tokyo is a pretty big place for a cat to get itself lost in. And I thought you can only track dead people.”
“You’re right. I can't track his exact location. But I think I can still make a good guess. Omar is a clever kitty. I doubt he's ran off somewhere far."
"It mentions in the journal that he likes taking the train."
"Perfect, he's probably not far away from here."
"Do you really think he would stay in the train station tho?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, out of my experience, The Accountant  is very ... antisocial. He really doesn't like being around people. I doubt he'd fancy staying at a place so filled with people."
"You're not wrong. But where would he go then?"

— - —

Omar Christen Ulawe. A man of precision and absolute. A remarkably gifted individual, with the ability to see correlations between data faster than any computer could even guess. He could tell you the weather a decade from now in the country on the other side of the world by the current market of Lord Huron vinyl records. He could tell you the D-Day of a future war by seeing what colored yarn any given store was sold out on. He could tell what your intentions are based on the color of your shoelaces. It was his norm. Every blink and breath was predetermined. Every footfall was calculated.

So what happens when a man who spent all of his life knowing everything suddenly didn't.

He zoomed through the streets, dodging locals and tourists, and trying not to be unwittingly stepped on. He had never ran so fast in his life.  The last time he checked, he was in Akihabara. And now he was in the heart of Shinjuku. He wasn't running from anything, nor looking to get somewhere. He was running out of fear. The wrath of the god of which he and his fellow Overseers could no longer contain. He didn't know what he would do to them now that he was freed of his chains. That is what horrified

Omar suddenly stopped in his tracks, dragging himself into an alley way. He had ran so far, so fast, for so long, that his toe beans started to bruise and bleed. He cried, but no one heard him over the bustling city noise. He couldn't go any further. He needed a place to rest. 

He limped, tail tucked under his body and every hair standing on edge. He shivered violently. Even as a fluffy cat, he didn't have nearly enough fur to keep him warm. He stopped to look around. A man existed the nearby train station. Based on his deep chocolate brown eyes, he could tell a cat cafe was close by. Based on the current average prices of plane tickets from Munich to Honolulu across several airlines, it should only be two minutes away.

Gathering all of his energy left, he zoomed to find the cat cafe. His zoomie was even faster than his previous dash, one out of an instinct he'd forgotten while human, but now reawakened as a cat. Twelve's mind flashed back to when he was just a small kitten. Most times he would spend all day lying in his bed, observing the world around him. But sometimes he would feel a random jolt of energy and he would sprint across the entire house, before leaping back into his bed to rest.

The Accountant stopped in front of the building. Based on the current stock price for Snapchat, the cat cafe was on the sixth floor. He yowled, he couldn't use the elevator by himself and there was no way it was open at this late of an hour. The cat curled itself up in front of the door, shaking like a leaf. His sprained muscles ached, his mouth was parched and his stomach growled for food. He could only hope that in the morning, a worker would find him and take him in.

— - —

"I told you he wouldn't be in there."
"Are you sure we checked everywhere? It's the world's largest train station."
"We scaled the building five times already!"
"What if we missed a spot?"
"Death, you checked the fucking ventilation system!"
"Yeah! What if he was in there?"
"How would a cat get into the vents?!"
"I don't know!!”

Vincent sighed, pressing the bridge of his nose.

"I need a fag..."
"You're gay?"
"As in a cigarette!"
"Nope! Trying to quit remember? The catcil hate the smell."
"Catcil?"
"Cat? Council? Catcil."
"The o5 catcil..."

Vincent chuckled to himself.

"Well I guess it fits. Sure."
"Where now then?"

He pulled out a map of Tokyo, unfolding it.

"So we're currently here... Shinjuku Train Station. He's probably hiding inside somewhere. Somewhere quiet and calm. Somewhere where he can plan his next move. Somewhere like—"
"A cat cafe?"

Death pointed at one of the dots. 猫カフェモカラウンジ 新宿店.

"It's only two minutes away."
"Well I'll be damned..."

— - —

The elevator dinged. Sixth floor. The snowy white lights of the narrow halls highlighted the shiny wooden walls and polished stone tiles. Quiet and serene music played in the background. Vincent felt his whole body relax, a truly foreign feeling. He whispered to Death, not wanting to disrupt the peaceful ambience.

"I do not know a word of Japanese. I'm counting on you."
"Don't worry. Of course I know Japanese."

The check in was fully automated, but Death was still able to flag down a member of staff. 

"え？" (excuse me?)
"おお！ようこそ!" (oh! welcome!)

Death politely nodded in acknowledgement. Vincent sighed in relief.

"うちの猫が行方不明になったんだけど、たぶんここにいると思う。" (our cat went missing, but we think he's probably here)
"彼はどんな見た目ですか?" (what does he look like?)
"青みがかった灰色の毛並み、黒い瞳、長い尾?" (blueish grey fur, dark eyes, long tail?)
"ああ！うちにもそっくりな猫がいるんです！数日前に建物の前で寝ているのを見つけて、家の中に入れてあげたんです。" (oh! we have a cat that looks just like that! I found it sleeping in front of the building a few days ago and let it inside.)

The woman let them inside, giving them slippers from a nifty little dispenser to wear. 

The entire place made the two of them just want to melt on the spot. The cafe was huge. Bookshelves packed with comics and manga. Rows of desks and computers to play video games. Round wooden tables, big and small, and sleek smooth leather corner cushions dotted the cafe. And everything was basked under a warm yellow lighting, which was starting to dim, as the cafe was soon to close. Fluffy little cats pranced around, resting on sofas or being picked up by staff. Some were running away from the workers, not wanting to leave the cafe just yet. Death and Vincent couldn't blame them. If they were cats, they would never want to leave too.

"Oh to be a cat staying here."
"Must be the dream. Even as a goddess, I must say I'm envious."
"彼はとても人見知りの強い猫だ。他の猫は皆嫌いだし、人間も好きじゃない。一日中、毛布を丸めて隅っこに座り、ただ周囲の様子を眺めているだけだ。" (he's an extremely shy cat. he dislikes all other cats and isn't fond of humans either. all day long, he curls up in a blanket in a corner, just watching his surroundings.)
"間違いなく彼だ。" (that's definitely him.)

And there he was. Huddled against the corner on a black leather bench was a Russian Blue. He was wrapped in a soft grey blanket, half hiding, half keeping himself nice and snuggled. His stormy blue coat made him stick out from the other cats like a sore thumb. The white leather collar with a sigil of a metal goblet leaking wine in place of a tag made it dead obvious that they’ve found who they were looking for. He looked half asleep, until Vincent quietly called his name.

"Omar?"

That's what woke him up, his small ears perking up. His pupils grew ever so slightly larger. No. It couldn't be. First the transformation, now this? He couldn't believe his dark maroon eyes. 

Vincent stepped closer. Despite trying to appear as non threatening as possible, Omar still backed up slightly. He hadn't seen the man in more than a century, when he last defected to found an organization, which swore to destroy them and their cause. A traitor. But before he could even hiss, his eyes fell upon the albino woman standing behind him. Death.

He felt his fur stand up from its strands. It was the most lively he had ever seen her, but he could recognize those whited out eyes from the edge of the universe. What was she doing here? She rarely ever showed up, even in meetings, let alone outside of Felix Carter's body.

Death felt something ruffle under her cloak. She let it out and Felix Carter shyly slipped out. The woman wanted to tell them that they couldn't bring other cats inside the cafe, but something in her soul told her it's better to keep her mouth shut. Vincent gave Death a perplexed look.

"Was Felix hiding in your cloak the entire time?"
"Yes."
"What? Is your cloak a portal to some other dimension?"
"Of course."
"..."
"How do you think I keep all of this hair in my hood?"
"You know what. I'm just not gonna question anything you do anymore."

The Other Overseer leaped onto the bench, staring at The Accountant eye to eye. Omar squeezed himself into a corner. They chattered, holding a conversation in a long dead feline language only they could understand.

"First I've turned back into a cat, then Vincent, then Death, now you!?"
"Yes, Twelve."

Omar stared down at his paws, trying to keep enough composure to trill coherently.

"Why are we cats again? Our contract was broken, wasn't it?"
"It was. Not by Vincent tho. Another man. I don't know his name, but he spared my life."
"Wha... What are those two doing here?"
"They've been taking care of me. Good care. They're looking for the rest of the council."

Omar paused. His dilated pupils focused on Death, then Vincent, and then back to Felix. He could partially understand why Death would be  looking for them. But Vincent?

"Why is Vincent bothering with us?"
"... I don't know. But his concern feels genuine. I truly think he's here the same reason Death is."
"That's what we thought the first time."
"That's because he didn't understand!"
"And he still doesn't! And what about our duties?! He—"
"Twelve! We're CATS! An essential oil diffuser could kill the two of us and the rest of The Overseers for fucks sake!! We can't fight like this!"

Felix placed his paws on top of Omar's. His claws were short and well trimmed.

"Please come with us. At the very least we'll have the rest of the council assembled and we'll figure out how to deal with him later."

Omar thought about it for a moment, with Felix waiting patiently for a response. The Russian Blue jumped off the sofa and, as a silent agreement to his plan, rubbed his face and body all over Vincent and Death's legs, purring.

Chapter Text

Vincent sat on the curb right outside of the 7/11. It was late, so late that the roads were empty, with not even a car passing by. An hour where only the 24 hour stores were open. He ran his hand over Felix’s back, gently stroking his sparse fur. Omar sat next to him, his front paws playing with the tip of his long tail, which wrapped around him like a snake. He was still reluctant to let his guard down for Vincent, trying to keep his gaze away from him. He sighed.

“Hey Omar… remember that one time, where we were both in Belfast, and while passing a dock, where some boat was being built… you suddenly told me.. ‘that boat is going to sink and 1565 people would die’? And later we found out it was the Titanic and you were right? That was… cool I guess.”

Omar ignored Vincent, unimpressed by his attempts to strike up a conversation. Vincent sighed again. Omar wasn’t in the mood to talk and even if he was, he couldn’t speak, just meow. Felix let out a yawn and stretched, before licking his paw and grooming himself. Vincent let out his own yawn. Death sat next to him, handing him a rice ball. 

“Your onigiri, my gyoza and..”

Death dug through the plastic bag, grabbing Felix and Omar’s attention.

“A little something for the cats.”

Vincent watched as Omar’s eyes instantly lit up. His striped tail stood up, quivering. Vincent turned back to Death to see what had gotten him so excited. Two trays, each stuffed with six pieces of something fried. She opened the first box and Omar immediately pounced on it, like a hungry patient tiger attacking a wild boar. Only instead of a prey animal, it was half a dozen fish cakes. Vincent and Death chuckled, as Omar chomped at them, wolfing each piece down, like he had been starved for days. Death used this time to secretly open the second tray, hoping that he would be too distracted with his own food to steal any of Felix’s, who, more modestly, nibbled at his dinner. 

“I have a sneaking suspicion that Omar likes fish cakes.”
“Just a hunch.”

Vincent unwrapped his riceball and bit into it. Death bit at her dumpling, getting the mixture of soy sauce, vinegar and chili oil all over her fingers.

“Wait, you know there’s chopsticks over there, right?”
“I… don’t know how to use chopsticks.”
“Really? You’re the embodiment of death, harborer of souls, an all powerful goddess, and you can’t use chopsticks?!”
“I know… it’s not like I usually eat anyway. I just try and copying what you humans do when using chopsticks. I don’t get it.”
“Here, let me show you.”

Vincent grabbed the chopsticks from her tray, peeling the plastic packaging off. 

“You hold the first chopstick like a pen and the second one should be supported by your ring finger. Only the first stick should move. Now you try.”

Death held the chopsticks in the way Vincent described it to her, moving the top one up and down with her index finger.

“Exactly!”
“So that’s how you use them.”

The two of them finished their dinner on the curb, having to stop Omar from stealing all of Felix’s fishcakes as well. Vincent piled all of their trash into the plastic bag and sealed it shut, letting it dangle at his finger. Death opened up her cloak and beckoned the cats back inside. She started walking, with Vincent not far behind.

“What’s inside your cloak anyway? A nice room for the cats to play in until they come out?”
“Well it’s more of a void, but I tried and keep it well furnished for the catcil. More importantly, they’re safe in there.”
“That’s good. Now, how are we going to find Sam? The journal doesn’t say anything about her possible whereabouts.”
“Well maybe it’ll help if put ourselves in their shoes. If you were a polymorph with no real sense of identity, who can create convincing false memories and realities whenever The Foundation needed someone to forget something and you suddenly turned into a cat, where would you go?”
“I don’t know.”
“Shit, I thought you might come up with something. What do you know about Sam? You probably know more than me, as when I first met her, she was this conglomeration of thousands of different identities.”
“Gosh… well, when Aaron and I defected to found The Chaos Insurgency, she came with. We decided she would make a good fit as an agent. One day, her and the team she was apart of were deployed to Bangladesh to investigate this one anomaly… and then I never saw her again. I only found out recently while reading the journal that she’s o5-11 again. Must have dragged her somehow living body and forced those thousand identities onto her or something."
"Poor kitty... so you do know a thing or two about her. How do you think she would react."
"Well, thinking back, if I was Sam in this situation, I would find it tempting to hide in a false reality, perhaps one I made for myself. Sam has a bad habit of denial. I can see her running away from the problem and comforting herself in her web of lies."
"That sounds like a plan."
"Wait, really? How do we access someone's own mind?"
"I have my ways."

— - —

"Next stop, ██████", announced the automated voice. The young cat's ears perked up. That's her stop. She leaped out of her seat, passing by other cats. Some reading the newspaper, some daydreaming to music. She thanked the bus driver, leaving him a small treat as a tip. The driver yowled a thank you, before she hopped off and the bus drove off.

She navigated through the busy city, her tail standing up high and proud. She had friends to go see. She quickly found the restaurant they were at and trotted inside. Three other cats saw at a low table. A fourth empty cat bed awaited her arrival.

"███! Long time no see!"
"We've missed you!"
"How have things been?"

The young cat got comfy in her cushion and placed her hat down.

"Gosh, so much has happened since I last saw you guys. I've got so many stories to tell!"

Sam?

"But first, I need to eat. I'm starving!"

Sam Biel?

The four cats scoured over the menu. The young cat stared with a perplexed look in their eyes. She couldn't understand what was written  down. It was all nonsensical.

Samantha Katrine Biel?

The young cat turned around. A weird hairless ape like creature stood by the window. It stood on two feet and only had hair on its head. She dropped her menu, now completely blank. The bipedal spoke to her in a language she could somehow understand.

"Sam?! Is that you?"

The cat stared at him with horrified eyes. That name. That thing, no, that man. She stared down at her paws. Samantha Katrine Biel.

"No no no no shut up shut up shut up shut up sHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT. UP."

And the world ended.

— - —

The hallway was bathed in red. Alarms blared so loud, that Vincent thought his ear drums would burst.

"Where is she?!"
"There!!"

The two of them chased down the cat. A Javanese. They blinked. Now it was an Oriental Shorthair. They blinked. Now it was a Cymric. It was always a different cat every time they looked away. But one thing always stayed the same. That collar. The white leather collar with a steel metal tag of a snake with its jaws wide open. It made it undeniable that it was them.

"Fuck this cat has stamina!"
"I don't think I ever ran this fast, even for a desperate lost soul!"

Yet they kept running, something powering their legs to keep going. Even as they started to ache and their sides became sore, they kept running. They couldn't lose sight of this cat.

They cornered the cat into a dead end. It roared like a lion.

And the world ended.

— - —

"Where the hell is she now?!"
"FUCK WE'RE LOSING HER!!"

Death and Vincent found themselves in a white void, surrounded by thousands of cats, all of different breeds, sizes, shape, gender and fur color. All with white collars. They all pranced around, doing their own thing.

"Damn it, Death, so which one is Sam?!"
"They all are. They're all of the identities she's forged for herself."
"Okay so which one's the real Sam?!"
"I-I..."
"What did she look like when she was a cat?!"
"FUCK."

Vincent, in his panicked state, started checking each and every one of the cats. They all had the same tag. He picked one up, a Snowshoe, and it instantly crumbled, the dust falling through his fingers. He turned towards Death.

"Well that makes things a little easier for us."

The duo started picking up every cat they could, each one of them fading as they were scooped up. The surviving cats tried to claw and bite, but they too disappeared with the rest, nothing more than a grand illusion.

Death's gaze briefly detached from the frenzy of felines at her feet. And there she saw it.

A silhouette of something fuzzy. Not fuzzy like a cat, altho it was definitely still cat shaped, as in fuzzy, like she couldn't make out what it was. The absence of a cat. The absence of an identity. She pointed at it.

"THATS HER!!!"
"WHERE?!?!"

The ghost cat stared at them with eyes they couldn't see, before being pulled into the floor.

And the world ended.

— - —

"Fuck, again?!"
"I'm going to be sick..."

Death caught Vincent, their footing uneven, as they were now on a ship in the middle of the Indian Ocean. A sinking ship. Death grabbed onto the railing, with Vincent clinging on her. They both dangled in the air for a brief moment, before the boat capsized, plummeting them into the warm salty water. His eyes hissed in pain, but he kept them open. He could feel Death still holding onto him, her hands still dry, trying to reach the surface. But as Death pulled him towards the surface, something clung in his ears. The sound was as clear as day and as chilling as the night.

mrow

He snapped his head back. He could just make out the shape of something dark, struggling to swim. He ripped his wrist from Death’s hand and dove towards the shape. Death shouted, her worried voice echoing towards Vincent, but he didn’t listen. He had to stay calm. Not think about the water around him or the threat of suffocating with what little air he had left. Panicking would waste too much air and he needed every last breath of it.

As he descended deeper, he could slowly make out what it was. A cat. Sam. Her hind paw had been caught on a piece of netting, completely entangled, dragging her into the abyss below. Vincent grabbed her and slowly untwined the netting, his hands working smooth and gracefully. He had to stay calm, even as the cat began to run out of air, he couldn’t stress it. Even as he began to run out of air, he stayed calm. He freed the cat from her bindings and made a mad dash for the surface, holding Sam firmly in his arms.

Death pulled him above the water and he fell to his side. He stared down at the ocean, confused.

"Are we... walking on water?"
"How do you think I retrieve drowning souls from the ocean?"
"This is sick..."

He jumped on the spot, not sinking as his feet hit the "ground". It was like a glass floor, impossible to see yet keeping all three of them floating just half an inch off the water. But his attention quickly diverted to Sam. In his arms was a Selkirk Rex, with pretty dark curly fur and copper eyes. She cried, mewling like a scared kitten. He could tell that she was sobbing, even tho cats can't actually sob. All of those memories came crashing down onto her like the waves of the ocean she almost drowned in. She suddenly remembered everything, completely overwhelmed by the decades worth of knowledge that had been locked out of her mind for a better part of a century. Vincent cradled her, rocking and shushing her like a mother to her infant. He spoke in a hushed tone.

"Shhh, all is well Biel, all is well. You remember me? I'm sure you remember me."

The Selkirk Rex buried her face in his chest, pawing at his jacket and continuing to mewl. Death nodded and smiled, as they all made their way back to the coast.

— - —

Vincent dragged himself out of the bathroom, half asleep and wearing nothing but sweatpants. He collapsed onto the hotel bed, not bothering to dry his hair. He lazily looked up. On the bed beside him sat Death, Felix, Omar, and a now completely dry Sam. Death was picking at their collars. Vincent groaned into the pillow.

"What are you doing...?"
"These collars. I don't know who put them on, but they're too tight. I can barely stick one finger in, let alone two."
"So take them off."
"That's what I'm trying to do! But there's no buckle."
"Hang on."

Vincent stood up, grabbing the pocket knife from the nightstand. He placed Felix on his lap and carefully slipped the blade in underneath the leather. He let out a nervous growl, as Vincent tried to cut the leather. At first he tried to slice through it, but soon found himself yanking at it, trying to tear it. But no matter how hard he tried, the collar stayed intact. It didn't even so much as tear slightly.

"Fuck, what skin did they use to make this leather? God's?"
"It doesn't feel comfortable either."
"Who put these on them?! How did they even get these on in the first place?!"

Vincent attempted to cut through the other two, but they too kept their suffocating grip around the felines' necks. But seeing Felix, Omar and Sam pick and scratch at their tight collars triggered something within him. More than just mere pity from seeing a bunch of hapless animals. Something awoke inside of him. It overrode all his other senses, while also heightening them. He could feel the weight of the room on his shoulders. His eyes darted back to the cats, who continued to scratch, pick, and even trying to bite at their collars. An anxiety crept under his skin.

“Felix! Omar! Sam!”

The cats stopped and looked up at him. He scratched them behind their whiskers and ears, prying purrs out of their tense bodies. They melted into his hands, eyes almost completely shut. He carried all of them to his bed, lazily giving them more pets and scritches.

"Hey... I got you. I'm not going anywhere. You got nothing to worry about while Death and I are here. We'll figure everything out."

Sam eventually fell asleep. Felix did the same shortly after. Omar took a little longer, but he too curled up and started snoozing. Vincent sat up, just to catch a quick peep of the cats, all of them catching Zs at the foot of his bed. Only when he was a hundred percent sure that they were safe and resting, did he allow himself to sleep. He laid his head back on the pillow and drifted off.