He was dead. He had been expecting it, of course. He had spoken out against ScarClan's leaders and many of ScarClan's members. of course they had killed him. He was homophobic. He had said they had to purify themselves, had to slaughter anyone who wasn't sexually straight, anyone who spoke a language not the common tongue, anyone he deemed tainted, impure.
Then one gay leader had come. Kazkan. It was almost amusing, the anger in his eyes. Amusing maybe, but it hadn't ended well for him. He had been tortured. Ears and tail torn off. Skin stripped away. Blinded. Insects poured over his body.When they were done, he had been left for the buzzards. He had been friends with many of them. Of course, that didn't matter. He spoke out against animals who weren't heterosexual, so it was fine to torture him, a two moon old they had known.
Clownkit thought that saying sorry, just before Kazkan had blinded him, fixed everything? He had only said that because he was disgusted by the torture, grossed out by the blood. The poor fools. The abominations that were anyone part of an inter-species couple, part of a same sex relationship, were foreign, were any of the thousands of things he hated had twisted their thinking until they were no longer logical. He would stop that. He would get a new body and kill anyone with those beliefs. He was Joel Militus.
Miguel was outside the hotel, pacing the ground. The cougar was bored, bored, bored. He was a bit upset over how inactive he was: he wanted actually be around when needed, which he wasn't. How was he suppose to help SunClan, exactly, if he was never around? Exactly. He couldn't. Thinking about it wouldn't help, he knew, he had to instead actually do stuff. Sighing, the tawny beast turned to continue his movement.
He couldn't sense the ghostly eyes of Joel on him, couldn't see the dead kitten admired his frame, deciding it would make a good body. He would have freaked out if he could.
A sudden stop showed that something was up with the cougar. It was doubtful anyone would no what exactly it was--possession. No longer was he Miguel in anything except body. Now he was Joel Militus, one time kitten of ScarClan, slayer of all the abominations littering this place, perhaps starting with where he was now.
No, that wouldn't work. He had to get used to this body first--it was a big difference, going from a two moon old hybrid kitten to a full grown puma. He would follow the one supposedly but-obviously-not-as-they-were-different-species his mother. He would live as a loner until he had full control over this body.
Then? Then he would rid the world of these menaces. First, though, he had to leave. Which way to go? Was he able to draw on the memories of the body to find out? If he walked far enough he would leave this place, whatever it was. Yes, that was what he would do. Maniacal grin forming on his maw, Joel started away.