ShadowArxxy - Canon Omake - A Cat of a Different Coat
A Cat Of A Different Coat
Michelle Carter was easily underestimated for being sincerely warm, friendly, and vastly more forgiving than anyone expected. But she was also the head of the most powerful organized crime syndicate in Griffin's Roost, and one did not rise to such a position without leaving a trail of bodies. It was simply that none of Carter's could be provably linked to her.
"Are you familiar with Rudyard Kipling, by any chance? An Old Earth poet from the early industrial era, one of rare talent and great insight. This one is from, 'The Jungle Book', the actual book and not the movie and cartoon adaptations that followed in the information age. It's really a pity it's so poorly known."
She closed her eyes and softly recited from memory,
The stream is shrunk - the pool is dry,
And we be comrades, thou and I;
With fevered jowl and dusty flank
Each jostling each along the bank;
And by one drouthy fear made still,
Forgoing thought of quest or kill.
Now 'neath his dam the farm may see,
The lean Pack-wolf as cowed as he
And the tall buck, unflinching, note
The fangs that tore his father's throat.
The pools are shrunk -- the streams are dry,
And we be playmates, thou and I,
Till yonder cloud - Good Hunting! - loose
The rain that breaks our Water Truce.
The young woman having lunch with her boss tensed, paled, and then slowly nodded. Two hours later, she was reporting to Janet Chambers in person.
Michelle Carter was not a nice woman. But she was a Griff through and through -- and a mother to boot, although she rarely let that impact her business dealings -- and there were lines she would not abide crossing. For the duration of this crisis, the syndicate would officially unofficially cooperate with the authorities.
Michelle Carter was easily underestimated for being sincerely warm, friendly, and vastly more forgiving than anyone expected. But she was also the head of the most powerful organized crime syndicate in Griffin's Roost, and one did not rise to such a position without leaving a trail of bodies. It was simply that none of Carter's could be provably linked to her.
"Are you familiar with Rudyard Kipling, by any chance? An Old Earth poet from the early industrial era, one of rare talent and great insight. This one is from, 'The Jungle Book', the actual book and not the movie and cartoon adaptations that followed in the information age. It's really a pity it's so poorly known."
She closed her eyes and softly recited from memory,
The stream is shrunk - the pool is dry,
And we be comrades, thou and I;
With fevered jowl and dusty flank
Each jostling each along the bank;
And by one drouthy fear made still,
Forgoing thought of quest or kill.
Now 'neath his dam the farm may see,
The lean Pack-wolf as cowed as he
And the tall buck, unflinching, note
The fangs that tore his father's throat.
The pools are shrunk -- the streams are dry,
And we be playmates, thou and I,
Till yonder cloud - Good Hunting! - loose
The rain that breaks our Water Truce.
The young woman having lunch with her boss tensed, paled, and then slowly nodded. Two hours later, she was reporting to Janet Chambers in person.
Michelle Carter was not a nice woman. But she was a Griff through and through -- and a mother to boot, although she rarely let that impact her business dealings -- and there were lines she would not abide crossing. For the duration of this crisis, the syndicate would officially unofficially cooperate with the authorities.
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