Born last to an odd litter of calico, Mr.Whiskers always was special. Tightly snug in the nightly embrace of young Victoria, she hugged him as her father rarely would, telling him stories of how he wasn't so great as people say, and how most nights he failed to tuck her in bed. 

[i]“I hate him!”[/i]

The cat purred as if it understood her resentment, comforting the nine-year-old by rubbing its curled backside on her, encouraging the girl to stroke his soft spotted fur. Unbeknownst to her father, Reginald Cavala, CEO of Balecorp, the largest smuggler of drug paraphernalia across this sector of the cosmos, she adopted a new pet. Victoria befriended the playful alley cat, secretly feeding him when he hopped onto her window sill one starry night. Her father, as the scrooge of the galaxy he is, forbade even the idea of Victoria owning dogs, hamsters, or even a red slider turtle, and above all, he hated cats. He even went out of his way to order the hundreds of guards under his command to treat strays like vermin and eliminate them on sight. 

In the past, any animal Victoria befriended, even as gentle as a hummingbird, her father killed, but that's what made Mr. Whiskers so special. Whether it was a few days or even a week, he always came back.

On this foggy night, Reginald left his Sauron tower of a headquarters and decided to take it easy for once, lounging in the theater of his luxurious neoclassical mansion, cigar in hand. Currently, the lone spectator of a blockbuster he missed out on, it was a well-needed rest from balancing his public figure and the extremely dangerous line of work from the safety of his grandiose shimmering durasteel walls and transparent aluminum windows.

The film Illuminating the dim room detailed a spy getting the drop on a mafia head by playing a loyal confidante for years. It was no comedy, but the sheer contrast in his reality from the character’s caused the CEO to smirk. If he told you, he was bulletproof. There was never a reality where he'd get caught with his pants down. With the graveyard of assassins sent his way, there was little reason for the linchpin to think he could ever be lynched. That didn't mean he wasn't paranoid. The militia of agents throughout his many-acre residences showed Reginald was overcompensating for something. With a crib boasting several landing pads, a private hangar for spacecraft, shelter concealing infinity pools, biometrically secured underground vaults, escape tunnels, robotic chefs half defense bots, and sensory fields for the utmost security, even if Reginald wasn't aware of it himself, it was fear.

Of what remained to be seen, and easily one might attribute his abundance of security to protecting his young daughter who would one day inherit his enterprise. After dozing off several times in the final act, Reginald decided to call it a night, slipping on his slides, zonked, walking through his art-filled halls before stopping at Victoria's room. She was already sleeping before he got home, so as any loving father would, he slowly cracked the door open to get a glance at her considering he'd leave before she even got the chance to get up for homeschooling. 

Lit under the hazy moonlight from her window, the sight of her in slumber reminded the linchpin of his only soft spot, who he did all of this for, his little princess, Victoria. After her mother, his [i]Mrs.Smith[/i] to his vice-based endeavors, was taken out by some photosynthesis-powered weirdo who he still has a hit out on to this day, Reginald vowed to protect Victoria to the extent that made her dislike him.

Her long hair likened her to Rapunzel, trapped on the top floor with little interaction in her father's built fortress. She was too young to understand, yet old enough to rebel. She didn't know of the dark consequences of her father's work but soon she would. 

Reginald looked at her side, Victoria's body cupped like she tenderly embraced an absent teddy bear. It was odd, but not enough for him to draw suspicion. The thought of forgetting a book he intended to finish on his helicopter ride to his headquarters in the morning sidetracked him, so he went to his home office as a last stop before bed to retrieve it. 

At this point, he walked into his oval-like office like a zombie. Opening the door, everything was of norm. Quasi-slumbered, Reginald made it to his home office’s desk. While he monologued angrily under his breath why his favorite sports team still sucked after checking his phone, the CEO managed to sit for a moment in his office chair. The second he sat down, it appeared something small pranced through the slither he left in the door. His eyes widened like he awoke from a nightmare at the realization that it was a cat. Jolting up, the cat’s lassoing tail around his neck forced him back down just as fast. 

[i][b]“You've been lying to me, Reggie.”[/b][/i]

Mr. Whisker's small body began to convulse, fur rippling as his bones audibly cracked, limbs stretching, contorting, elongating to that of a human-esque figure. His menacing yellow eyes glowed like any cat’s would in the night, and the “gotcha” smirk on his face as his spotted fur transitioned to a sleek black was of Reginald’s worst nightmares. It was Merse, who did in fact, catch the bulletproof CEO linchpin, all of those things, with his pants down. 

[i]“You didn’t get the message the first time when I sent Edris. You thought you could disrespect me again by taking out one of my closest informants and hiding your hand? In return, I gained an even closer one to you. She rants often about how you're rarely home. Poor thing. She’s just getting to the tip of the iceberg of how much of a piece of shit her father is.”[/i]

[i]“Victoria!”[/i] Reginald screamed, forehead veins bulging.

[i]“As a CEO, you quickly grasped the stipulations. In case you didn't, this is how it's going to go from now on. [b]You[/b] work for me.”
[/i] Before the information broker could lecture further, his left ear twitched, keening in on an alarming sound. 

As quickly as Merse was aware, an enormous, oval-shaped golden spacecraft shimmering with a moon-like glow several times larger than the mansion he stood in entered the air space above him. Veering ridiculously close, the spaceship possessing rings like Saturn was in full control.

[i][b]“Reginald Cavala, your continuous crimes across known space end today as we, Orichalca, have deemed your reformation necessary.”[/b][/i]

[i]“Shit! I knew you were scum but not enough to get on their radar.”[/i] 

Merse’s animal intuition led him to retake his form as an innocent house cat, relinquishing his grip on the CEO's neck. As soon as he did, a series of intricate Holographic rays penetrated every inch of the manor, ignoring walls, doors, even people. Nothing could cast a shadow and just like that, Reginald saw only black.