Assassination by Graymalkin, a Blue Hellion

Chapter One: The Duchess
A solitary figure crept through the shadows of the Roman-style villa. Darting from cover to cover he, for this individual was male, stole through the ornate gardens that surrounded the main building. He slipped into the shade of a tall fountain, situated in a clear area, before the main door. A pair of guards was stationed on either side. His experienced gaze assessed the setting. He made his decision.
Swift as a cat, he leapt from his hiding place and cut through the first guard. The second attempted to raise her gun, but the warrior had ripped out her throat before she had realised what she was facing.
The doors were locked. The guards had no keys. A minor inconvenience for one as skilled as he. But now that the first killing had been made, he was against the clock. Soon someone would find the bodies, even though he had hidden the corpses in the bushes, and then the alarm would be raised.
Dashing around the perimeter of the house he came to a barred window. He twisted the bars and pried them off. The man’s sharp claws cut a circle of glass from the window. He reached through and unlatched it. The cloaked individual climbed through the window and padded silently across the rich carpet of the room inside.
A faint gleam of light outlined the only exit from the darkened room. The intruder’s eyes were particularly suited to the dark. Glancing around the room he could see ancient, leather-bound books in glass display cabinets. Obviously this was a collection of some kind. He tried one of the display cases out of a kind of half-interest. After all, the only reason he was here was for money for his employer. Once the possibility of extra gain had been eliminated, he moved toward the door. He could have cut through the cases but time was against him, and the bulky books would only hinder him in his task.
Listening, with one ear pressed to the door, he could hear a few guards chatting idly. He pulled the heavy, mahogany door from its hinges and dumped it inside the room. He leapt through the doorway and descended upon the quartet of unwary and astonished guards. His skill, and his claws, allowed him to tear through them. In mere moments four corpses lay, bleeding on the ground.
The killer simply ran on, rounding a corner and disposing of another two guards at the bottom of a set of wide, sweeping stairs. Instinctively he knew his quarry would be at the top of those stairs. He ascended swiftly pausing only briefly when he reached the top to dispatch yet another guard. The man jogged down the long corridor, following the scent of the woman he was searching for. He stopped about halfway down the hall. The scent became fainter here, as if his prey seldom came this far. Two doors back…no three…yes! The main scent trail led to this ornate, oaken door.
He crashed into the room and landed, rolling into a corner before he leapt to his feet. The woman in the bed sat up. The Duchess of Cornwall. She was no longer young, but neither was she old. The duchess had once paid tribute money to the man named Apocalypse. Recently, since the beginning of her ‘friendship’ with the man named Steven Booth, she had halted those payments. Now the age-old mutant wanted revenge. He had provided his assassin with a detailed will which would leave all the duchess’s money to his master (indirectly of course).
Steven Booth levitated into the air from his position in the bed beside the duchess. Using his TK he pinned the intruder to the wall.
“Don’t worry, Edwina,” he assured the frightened woman beside him. “I have everything under control.
The Duchess of Cornwall simply screamed all the louder. “Get out you freak!” she yelled hysterically, clinging to her bed-sheets.
Steven sighed and teleported himself, his belongings and the mysterious assassin back to his castle in Jamaica.

Chapter Two: Arrival
A look of bemusement flickered across the face of Lady Charlotte Sometimes as she strode into the Purple King’s office.
“What’s that?” she inquired, peering at the figure held against the wall by Steven’s TK.
“He was, or is, Graymalkin.”
“You mean Grimalkin, from Macbeth?” asked Morte, the Purple Rook, as she joined them.
“Not quite. He has exceedingly strong mental and mystical blocks.” Epyon and Xeus entered the room. Steven quickly brought them up to date on the situation.
Epyon focused his spirit power.
“There are two individuals inhabiting that body. But they have merged partially. Each will be affected by the other but one will always be dominant,” he announced.
“As I thought,” said Steven. After a few more minutes scanning telepathically, he broke off. “The blocks bear the mark of Apocalypse. Even I will need help.” He quickly awoke Scarlett Mistress, Lark and Shadow and teleported them to his office. He explained what he wanted to do to the three groggy members.
“The rest of you better leave,” Steven ordered, gently but firmly ushering all the others, except Morte and Rage, out of the door.

The six people sat in a semicircle around their prisoner. Steven, being king, dictated his orders. “Char, Lark, Morte, and Becca; I will harness your telepathic and telekinetic abilities as my own and use them to batter at the mind barriers Apocalypse put in place. Shadow; I need you to place under magical protection. I also need you to try and keep me grounded in my body.”
His fellow courtiers murmured their agreement. With bent heads they began. At first nothing seemed to happen. Then suddenly all the lights went out. With his now enhanced telepathy, Steven could hear the calls of alarm across the castle that served as a school. He pushed the rears of his students aside, knowing that his Knight and Bishop were more than capable of handling a bunch of frightened teenagers.
Concentrating on the forlorn figure held to the wall he joined his telepathy to his telekinesis. With all his might, and that of his friends, he began to batter at the barriers in the creature’s mind. The gentle, yet strong, mystical hand of Shadow holding him to the physical plane and his body reassured Steven.
After what seemed like an eternity, but was in reality only a few hours, Steven felt the barriers come crashing down.
“Odd,” he thought, “No movement and now they’ve fallen completely.” He gently lowered the limp form of Graymalkin to the floor.
“He’s dead,” said Shadow, “but he’s under some kind of immortality spell form a powerful sorceress. It should recover in a few days.”
“I doubt that,” replied Steven tersely, “I sensed it too late. When the barriers began to give it triggered a destructive spell. I think it may have rendered his mind useless.”

Chapter Three: Vigil
“Come on Steven,” said the queen as she tried to pull her friend away from the infirmary bed. He had sat here, hunched over, for the past twenty-four hours, holding a silent vigil. He was watching the still form of the one they had all come to know as Graymalkin.
“I am using my telepathy to repair his – their – shattered mind,” he responded tensely.
Sighing Lady Charlotte Sometimes simply strolled out of the infirmary.

Steven was a telepath of unrivalled skill, if not power. He was having a little success where lesser minds would have given up all hope. The king’s mind was actually inside that of Graymalkin. He could sense the two separate minds inhabiting the body. He had hoped that at least one might be unharmed, but both were incomplete. A thought suddenly struck him. Maybe the two minds were both damaged but neither had been destroyed totally. He began the laborious task of merging the minds of the people who had merged bodies.

“So basically, even if he wakes up he’s gonna be a schizo,” declared Xeus to the rest of the Inner Circle.
“Well yes and no,” answered his king, “They now share parts of their minds, like memory and the part that utilises their mutant powers. But although their personalities are influenced by the other, they are still separate beings. But neither one can survive without the other.”
“But one will always be dominant and control the body?” inquired Epyon. “Exactly!” exclaimed the king obviously pleased that someone else understood his explanation.
Steven summoned his telepathy and began trying to awaken Graymalkin. He spoke through gritted teeth, “I will try to ensure that the boy, Felix, is in control. Be on your guard in case he is not.”
The figure on the bed stirred, writhing and contorting. His eyes flickered open, issuing a groan of pain. A savage look flashed onto his face, nut was quickly replaced by a more normal, human look of genuine surprise. “W…where am …we?” he stuttered.
“You are in the infirmary of The Academy of Steven Booth for the Gifted Youth. We are a prestigious group dedicated to the education of those with special powers. Like yourself,” answered the king.
Suddenly the features of the cat-man contorted, drawing back into a savage snarl. He leapt from the bed, only to be tackled by Morte.
“No one touches the king!!” she screamed. “Shite! I accidentally touched him!”
Graymalkin simply threw her into the wall, sending several shelves of medicinal supplies crashing to the floor. As the other Inner Circle members stood open-mouthed, the cat-man jumped on a doctor who had just walked into the room. Epyon and Xeus dashed after him, but both were too late. With feline speed he had torn out the man’s throat and bounded out down the passageway.
*He needs to be pacified* Steven spoke telepathically straight into their minds. I’ll teleport Epyon, Xeus, and Rage to the Danger Room. I’ll tell Blackfire and Toby to head him off and draw him there*
As his underlings raced to do his bidding, the king bent tenderly over his Rook.
“’m ok,” she mumbled getting to her feet.

Graymalkin raced after the two females. All that filled his mind was the thought of the prey. But somewhere at the back he could fell a strange memory tugging at his emotions. He vaguely remembered his mother. She had had beautiful red hair like the woman he was chasing. This wasn’t right. He fell to his knees cradling his head in his hands. A pathetic moan tumbled from his lips. When he looked up again he saw a red-haired woman and another girl with reddish, obviously dyed, hair gazing at him.

Epilogue
“So you’ve been here a week then, Graymalkin – or is it Felix?- well anyway how do you like it?” asked Steven.
“It’s good. Better than good. Great in fact,” Graymalkin replied. “And I’ve decided that I’ll use Graymalkin for around here and other mutants, but I’ll use what I feel to be my real name outside: Felix Tigrano”
“It is up to you.”
“I know but to tell the truth I fell more like Graymalkin every day. I realise now that I am both of my previous personalties. No longer am I Felix Tigrano, but neither am I Graymalkin.”
“Then what do you call the dark, evil side of yourself?”
“It is simply called DarkCat.”
“Good name. I’ll bear that in mind for future use. When he pays us a call!” laughed the king heartily.
Graymalkin joined in. The sun shining down good and for the first time in his life he felt happy. Felix felt like he was loved. Graymalkin felt at peace. Together they would make great addition to the Hellions. Everything worked out wonderfully.
And they lived happily ever after…
Or did they?

THE END