X-Men Sprouts: Cougar
My name is Katze, Katze Silver, at the risk of sounding like Bond, James Bond. My full name is Katze Argentina Silver, but if you call me Argentina or Aggie or Tina or any variation therein, I might just have to kill you. Since I'm a mutant, it wouldn't be that hard.
Okay, so not all mutants are killing machines; I just happen to be violent. Maybe I get it from my dad. I wouldn't know, since I've never met him. My mom raised me. I look nothin', and I mean nothin', like her. She has this pretty, thick and straight corn-silk colored hair to her waist and these gorgeous white-blue eyes. She's got the palest skin you ever saw and it hasn't a mark on it anywhere. She's real short, about 5'2, and the most delicate features. She's like a giant china doll.
I, on the other hand, have this weird brown hair. It sticks up all over the place and it never does what I want it to. It's not a weird color, just a slightly dark brown, but sometimes it looks black, like when it's wet. I keep it cropped short, a little shorter than chin-length, because it looks really stupid long. My skin is all tan-ish and I have SO many freckles, it's insane. I'm tall, about 6'1 or so (I keep gettin' taller) and I tower over all the chicks in my grade. I'm taller than most of the boys, too. My eyes are all freaky and this unusual golden color, like a mountain cats or somethin'. My eyebrows are a little thick, but that's okay, it evens out my nose, which is too big, but they shoot up whenever I don't believe someone. I'm not ugly, but I'm close. That's what I think, anyway.
What really separates me from my mom, however, are my claws. They pop out from between my knuckles and it hurts like hell. I don't know what they're made of, but it's not natural, I can tell you that. It's hard and it's white and it's damn tough. But I'm pretty tough, myself. I've never broken a bone, though, by all rights, I should have. And what should take a month to heal often just takes a day. Mom says that's what makes me a mutant. I don't care, really; I just wish that, when I get angry, they wouldn't pop out. It hurts and it's scary and it freaks people out. I don't talk to anyone at school, so that keeps me from gettin' mad at people there, and I don't get out much, but I've scared my grandma into a heart attack (that was NOT fun) and my aunt fainted when she first saw them.
Delicate women in the family. How did I end up in this family?
By the way, I've never actually killed someone. Just though I'd mention it.
Okay, here's the thing about Mom. She looks all fairy-airy and princess-y, but she can be tough if she needs to. She doesn't often, but that's beside the point. She hates shopping and loves baseball and thinks foot ball is fun to watch but stupid to play. She likes her hair long, 'cause, as she puts it, it "makes me feel sexy". She hates my hair short, and wishes I would grow it out. She gets lots of dates. However, she only takes a few home. If she approves of the way they react to me (a.k.a. - no touching in any shape or form except a handshake, no funny looks, nice with a good sense of humor) then she'll take them on another date. We devised this system a long time ago; I think I was four. She says, with a cough, mind, that it used to take a lot less to "take them to her room".
We have a weird relationship, I think, for a mother and a daughter.
She also swore, when I was old enough to understand, that she would not tell me about my father until she felt I was ready.
So, on my sixteenth birthday (very lonely affair; just Mom and me), when she announced it was time to tell about my father dear, I screamed.
Okay, a very girly reaction, I'll admit, but I'd been waiting for this since I knew I had a dad! (Somewhere…)
"Kattie, I think it's time to talk about your dad."
(Insert scream here.)
(Insert pause and raised eyebrow from Mom.)
"Yeah, Mom?" I asked eagerly.
She gave me a Look. "His name was Logan. That was when I worked in a bar, Fat Sam's. We held illegal cage fights, but it was fun to watch. An' one night… this stranger came in. He was tall an' burly an'… good-looking. He had all the girls workin' there bothered, an' a few of the boys, too." Her eyes went all misty on me. "He had this swagger and confidence… I don't know, he was special. He took my heart and didn't even know it. I bribed Sam to let me take bar, but he didn't even head there, at first. He went straight for the cages.
"Now, we'd had a real fierce man in the past few weeks, an' he never lost. His name was Jake. I remember 'cause he'd had a real thing for Rosanne. He had a real ugly face an' a mean look, like a mad bulldog."
"I like bulldogs!" I interjected loudly. She smirked at me.
"Wanna hear it or not?" I nodded furiously. "Well, long story short, he beat Jake real fast. They both came saunterin' over to the bar, and I made sure I didn't have any beer stains or somethin' on my shirt. I noticed real quick that he, Logan, had dogtags. I had a bit of thing for military men back then."
"You still do," I muttered.
"Shut up, Kattie. Anyway, I asked him about 'em, and he said, 'I don't remember.' I thought that was weird, but I kept quiet about it. We got to talkin'. He was real opinionated, but I liked that. Mostly he kept quiet, though. He collected his money an' got a few beers off tap. He got me laughin', and then we visited the back room for my break-" Mom broke off and blushed a little. "Sorry, baby, sometimes I forget you're not Lilly. Anyway, He stayed in town for a couple days, an' then he moved on. I tried to get him to stay, but nothin' doin'. I didn't really expect him to, but I hoped. That was your father."
"That's it?" I asked in disbelief.
"Bo-ring. Can't you give me more to get off of? I want to find him."
"What?" I asked, shocked. "Why not?"
"He was dangerous, Kattie," she replied tensely. "I don't think it would be wise. I'm not gonna let you go and find him. Wherever he is, he's fine an' we're fine an' we don't need him. I got a job an' you're doin' good enough in school."
"No buts, Katze Argentina Silver. You will NOT go looking for your father."
That's what she thought.