A/N: Well, this is the first bit of my summer fiction ideas. I think I’ve been seriously missing my cats or something, because well, you’ll see, there’s cat stuff in here. LOL. Anyway, two finals down, more to go, so I’m back to studying and whatever. This was today’s prompt fiction that somehow turned into a story idea and I had to make myself stop writing it. Enjoy! (and let me know if you’d like to see more, this is probably more of a prequel than anything else.) Cheers! ~S

Found on Google. I own nothing. 


“Credibility? Is that what this comes down to?” Monica stared at him in a mixture of horror and confusion. “Why you two-faced, lying-! I can’t believe this.” She sputtered, her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides. “You can’t do this to me.”

“You’ll fine, Miss. Montanica,” Jordan Cash calmly shook out his sunglasses and slid them on his face. “That I can do just about anything I like. It really isn’t something that well, I’d expect you to understand. We can’t just hire anyone.”

“This isn’t a matter of hiring anyone, it’s–it’s discrimination!” She snapped, feeling her face heat up to an unhealthy shade of red. “You’re picking on me, because I’m a woman!”

Smooth eyebrows arched up. “My, my, those are certainly quite weighty accusations my dear.” He murmured. “I’m afraid that you simply can’t go around spreading that sort of news without something to back it up.” He peered at her over the tops of his tinted lenses. “You do have some sort of proof, don’t you?”

Monica blinked.

“I thought so.” He sighed. “Thank you for your time, it was good to-“

“You’ll wish you hadn’t done this.” Monica swallowed. She stepped to the side before his shoulder could brush against her as he walked past. “You will regret it.”

“Allow me to be the judge of that.” Jordan winked. He dipped into one jacket pocket for the perpetual pack of cigarettes. “When you feel that you have something worthy of our esteemed company, then do come on by. I’d be happy to give you another trial run.”


“We’ve got him, Chief.” Monica slumped down in the cramped chair in the back of the surveilance van. She reached up,  yanking at the wig that made her head feel so itchy. “You are never getting me to go back out there.” She scowled. “Never, I swear it.”

“Wasn’t that bad, kitty kat.” Her handler, Carol grinned widely as she tossed her a bottle of water. “Stop doing that with your ears.”

“My ears are doing that on their own.” Monica retorted, testily. She peeled off the wig, cap, careful of her soft orange, furred cat-ears that stuck up at the top of her head, flicking and swiveling in the direction of sounds that only she could hear. “Don’t you have any milk?”

“Blame it on Barnes, he couldn’t help himself.” Carol rolled her eyes and jerked a thumb towards the second Felinesque member of their squad. Barnes was a sleek, black tom, in terms of Monica’s typical orange-stripe tabby look.

“If this doesn’t work,” Chief Larson frowned. “You won’t have a choice.”

“Oh yes we do.” There was a faint hint of a growl in Monica’s voice as she turned to scowl at her team leader and district head. Her irises began to morph from the trademark round orbs of a human, narrowing to the slit-eyed cat-pupils, the most obvious sign that her temper was fraying neatly around the edges. “If I have to see or speak to him again, I’ll kill him, Chief. There is no other way around it.”

Bushy white eyebrows rose up to a snowy white hairline. “That’s a bit…much, even for you.”

Monica winced as a half-yowl came out of her throat before the words did. “Don’t, just don’t.” She said, wearily. “You have no idea how hard it was to stand there and pretend to be human.” She shuddered all over. “I don’t–I don’t want him to get away with this and I don’t think I could take this cover up again, I’d have to do something else if this doesn’t work.”

Chief Larson regarded her for a moment, then gave a short nod. “I suppose we can move in.” He said, at last. “I’ve always trusted your judgment and somehow, it’s never wrong. You’re sure now?”

Monica sucked in a breath. She closed her eyes, ears flattening down against her head as she sifted through the mess of feelings, emotions and solid facts floating through her head. There was nothing that she could think of that was worth stopping the operation for. “That’s a go, Chief,” she said, relieved. She didn’t even complain when his large, calloused hand rested briefly on her head and stroked the soft fur in reward.

“Good kitty.” He chuckled. “Carol, make sure you’re both on the same wavelength and see about the legal half of things, I’ll get the rest of the team moving.” He gave a jerk of his head. “Barnes, get your tail over here and be useful!”

(c) Sara Harricharan

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