The Silver Protector And Me

Hope Diamond

Inside the ornate Matcham walls of the Slick Casino, deep within the bowels of its interior, an urgent meeting was taking place, and it's mastermind was making clear that he was in a less than amiable mood. Actually, he rarely was in a good mood, unless he was killing something.

"Evelyn!" He bellowed. "Bring up the images of the four who escaped!"

"Please."

The wild-haired Maine Coon froze. Quite involuntarily, one of his eyelids also began to quiver. " What... did... you... say?"

"You forgot to say please," the electronic prima donna answered tonelessly.

"Forgot to say please?" He repeated. "Forgot to say please?" There was a reverberant crack as both of his paws balled into fists. "How about I forget NOT to put my foot through your monitor, you recalcitrant piss-tray! Now, get on with it!"

There was a short pause as the belligerent machine considered this, then images of four queens flashed up.

"Hmmm…" Calm once again, he studied them for a long time, habitually stroking his beard-like chin fur, his heavy brow becoming increasingly lined the more deeply he thought. "I'm rather disappointed that they are missing," he muttered to himself, his voice plummy and as slick as crude oil. "They were my finest performers… the Cullinans of my collection... but especially my little Hope Diamond." His eyes came to rest on one of the images, scrutinizing its every detail as though searching for flaws... but of course, found none. She was practically perfect, an exquisite treasure in every way, and the thought that someone had gotten their filthy, conniving paws on her caused his claws to dig sharply into his palms!

It was almost laughable.

He. The supreme crime lord of London, had been robbed by his own brother, a traitor and worthless inferior of all things!

"Computer!" He barked. "Get me further information on fig. 5!"

"I have a name. Did you forget it?"

Macavity sneered. "Oh, I'm sorry, what was it again? Oh, that's it. Heap of junk! Soon to be lump of scrap metal if you don't do what I say, immediately!" He turned angrily to his technician, a blue tabby and white bicolour who was punching numbers into the keyboard. "Seriously, Narkskull," he complained. "Can't you fix this damn thing before it gives me an aneurysm?"

But before the cat could stutter an answer, Macavity was once again shouting elsewhere at the top of his lungs. "Griddlebone? Griddlebone?! Where in the blazes are you!? Answer me, goddamnit! Do you seriously think I like listening to the sound of my own voice-?"

"I'm right here... Honeybunch."

Casually materialising from the shadows like a stark phantom, the queen was an angelic vision in a gown of white. Shapely legs tottered upon dainty pink paws, contrasting with her thundercloud hips, which were encased in a mass of billowing fur as light as swan feathers; and her generous cleavage was accentuated by a beribboned waspie of delicate pink, designed to cinch in a waist that had borne many a kitten. With devilish blue eyes trained on her boss, she smiled a black widow's smile as she handed him a vial of seething liquid, which he immediately swallowed.

"Better, my sweet?" She crooned, as she took the empty vial back off him, her voice saccharine and as smooth as an ice rink.