Title: A MEDIEVAL NIGHTMARE
Disclaimer: “SWAT Kats: The Radical Squadron,” its characters and concepts are copyright to Hanna-Barbera Cartoons, Inc and are used without permission.
He woke in pain. His stomach wanted to heave. ‘What had happened to him?’ There wasn’t a part of him that didn’t hurt … badly. He was huddled in a heap on a hard floor.
“Cease! Move not! Hurt more it will!” warned a raspy voice with a strange accent somewhere nearby.
The tall, powerfully built Kat moaned as he struggled to see where the voice was coming from, but the movement made his head spin. His stomach clenched and, in the next moment, he was heaving his guts out.
He shuddered as the vomiting finally abated and left him breathless and in even more pain. He slumped back down to the floor. “Who are you?” His voice barely a rough whisper.
“A prisoner, as are you. More than that, I know not,” the raspy voice said heavily. “Know this, being still will help. Moving will be terrible. Sorry I be that I can not offer thee any ease for thy pain.”
“S’ll right. Handled worse,” he muttered. ‘Though I can’t remember when,’ he thought privately, keeping his eyes shut tight.
He tried to ignore the agony that any movement caused and the smell of vomit near his nose. He listened to his surroundings, but all he could hear were crickets, the movement of trees in the wind and a far off dripping noise. Nearby was the sound of heavy breathing, his cellmate obviously.
“How long have I been here?” he queried the other, needing to gather information.
“T’was midday when thee were tossed herein, night tis now. Was uncertain thee were living till I saw thy chest did move,” the other answered heavily. He apparently shifted because Feral could hear a soft scuff against the floor.
Moving cautiously, Feral tried to get into a more comfortable position. A sob of agony was wrenched from him at the searing pain that ran from his neck to his feet. He lay absolutely still, tears running down his face, his breathing sharp and jerky.
“Aii, still I told thee, pain worse when moving. Tis a fearsome thing for some time to come. Be still!” the voice urged in concern, suddenly sounding closer, its owner having moved nearer to him.
He’d give anything to just be unconscious right now. The pain was unrelenting, and there was absolutely nothing to distract him from it. A more horrible torture he couldn’t imagine.
“Crud! How the heck did we get here and where is here?” T-Bone groaned, trying to move but gasped when hot needles of pain flashed through his body. He panted, trying to catch his breath and held himself very still. He dully realized he was on a hard, dirty stone floor.
“Ohhh… gods my head! Keep your voice down, will ya!” came his partner’s agony filled voice somewhere nearby.
It was dark where they were and cold. The room had a window where nighttime could be seen, but there was no moon to shed any light. ‘How had they gotten here?’ the tabby tom wondered, trying to distract himself from the intense pain.
In a softer voice, T-Bone asked, “Hey, buddy, what’s the last thing you remember?”
“Uhh… hard to think… too much pain!” Razor moaned. “Think we were fighting Pastmaster then nothing,” he finally managed to say.
“Yeah, that’s sorta what I remember too,” T-Bone muttered in agreement. He struggled to move toward the small window to try and see where they were, but the pain soared again with the movement and brought a cry of agony from his lips. He moaned and lay still. All he heard were night creatures and his partner’s groans that matched his own.
A huge castle gleamed in the early morning light…
“And, you say you found these metal things in your field?” a beautiful female asked a poorly dressed old Kat.
“Yes, my Queen. A fearsome noise they made… falling from the sky… shook the ground. My family be frighted and hid until all was quiet. We came out and saw them,” the Kat said fearfully, turning his battered hat in his paws.
“I thank thee for bringing this to my attention. Lead us to thy land, and I and my knights will follow thee,” the Queen commanded, rising from her throne, signaling the Commander of her Knights to follow.
Riding side saddle, the Queen rode with her knights quickly out the castle gates. The old farmer rode in front of her Commander. He had pointed out the direction to his farm and was now holding onto the saddle cantle for dear life.
A half hour of hard riding they came upon a stunning sight. A strange metal creature sat in a hole of its own making, smoke drifted from inside it. Not far from this was a familiar metal flying machine.
“Why it’s Sir T-Bone and Sir Razor’s flying device!” Queen Callista exclaimed.
“It is indeed, my Queen, but there seems no sign of its occupants,” her Commander said in concern.
“Aye, thee are right, Lord Ferlin. That concerns me deeply. It appears the Pastmaster has done them evil yet again. The other machine must come from their world as well, and its occupant is also missing,” the Queen said, pursing her lips in consternation.
“Do thee want me to start a search, my Queen?” Lord Ferlin asked, looking around.
“Aye, take as many knights as thy need and quickly. I fear time is against us,” she said worriedly.
He nodded in acknowledgment then carefully put the farmer back on the ground. “Touch not the metal things and let not any of thy kin get too near,” he warned the Kat.
The farmer nodded fearfully and ran to his home just past the wreckage.
Staring at the wondrous machines from the future a few minutes longer, the Queen sighed then turned her horse around and with a few knights as escort hurried back to her castle.
A Dark Cell somewhere…
When morning came, Feral was unaware of it. It hurt too much to open his eyes. The pain had eased to a dull ache as long as he didn’t dare to move. His cellmate touched his face carefully.
“Are thee aware now?” he asked softly.
“Yesss,” he answered, too exhausted to say anymore than that. He had never endured such pain like this before nor for soo long. His bladder was making urgent demands, and he was afraid to move. ‘How humiliating,’ he thought blearily.
Swallowing hard, he prepared himself to move his body. He raised his head slowly and was rewarded with a knife-like pain slicing through his body, causing him to wet himself. Clenching his teeth, he lay back down and panted.
“Thy should be able to move now, but thee seems to be more hurt than I thought,” the voice muttered in concern.
‘Really? I wouldn’t have guessed!’ Feral said to himself sarcastically, unable to unclench his teeth to answer verbally and thoroughly embarrassed for his loss of control.
Another Cell Elsewhere…
The sun shone through the small window and fell over T-Bone’s prone form. He squinted at the bright light but couldn’t move out of the brightness. Every attempt he made brought with it unbelievable pain.
He thought blearily that whoever had them prisoner didn’t need to worry about locking the door. There was no way he or Razor were going to be able to get to their feet. Pain made a better jailor than he ever thought possible.
He could hear his partner making the same attempts and with the same results. It was horrible just lying here with no way to get up and no idea where they were and who held them prisoner.
As the day passed, no one came to check on them. It was almost as if they had been completely forgotten, and thirst was becoming almost as bad a torture as the pain.
Navigate This Author's Stories
Disclaimer: SWAT Kats: The Radical Squadron is copyright to Hanna-Barbera Cartoons Inc. All Rights Reserved. © 1995. All other characters and material within this page are the property of their respective creators.