It was more than three days before Feral could speak with Dark Kat. Though powerful and a mutation of a Kat, the implosion of the Black Widow had done considerable damage to the omega.
The room in the prison infirmary was a heavily fortified one that would ensure their prisoner could not escape easily. Feral had to pass through four security entry points before even reaching the hospital bed Dark Kat was strapped down to. The omega was hooked up to a variety of monitoring devices and was receiving a couple of IV’s.
The omega looked even more ugly than normal with his face bandaged on one side covering one eye and going across his head with his long weird ears sticking upward like blades; multiple cuts painted his arms, neck, and chest. A leg and arm on opposing sides were in slings and hanging in the air. No way was he getting up any time soon.
Approaching the bed, Feral eyed the omega watchfully. Badly injured or not, this omega was extremely dangerous. The dark tom had his weapon in his paw by his side just in case. The door behind him closed with a loud thunk of heavy duty locks falling into place. He was effectively sealed in here with his enemy.
“Seems odd to have you as a visitor,” a deep, hoarse voice commented.
Feral stared into a pair of orange eyes with no pupils. Dark Kat’s expression was a combination of pain and cold interest. It was disconcerting to be staring down at what was supposedly a Kat (no one had been able to prove otherwise despite his strange outer appearance) but was the color of grape jelly and having a mouth that looked like a bear trap… creepy!
“Believe it or not, I’ve come to ask your aid.”
Dark Kat’s one eyebrow rose in surprised derision. “If you are trying for humor, you are failing miserably, Commander.”
“What I have to say affects everyone on our world, not just Megakat City.”
“I’m listening,” Dark Kat said blandly though there was a gleam of curiosity in his one good eye.
Over the next thirty minutes, Feral told Dark Kat of the aliens coming to take over the world, who had brought them this warning, and what was being done to try to save them. The sound of his voice drifted off into silence as Dark Kat absorbed this stunning news.
His first thought was, ‘this is a trick,’ but that made no sense as Feral wasn’t given to such a thing nor did he see the Commander gaining anything by telling his enemy such a fantastic story. Then there was the fact the entire world’s military forces were taking this serious enough to send representatives to this very city, which certainly showed definite belief and intent.
He didn’t tell Feral this, but his minions had brought him word of something strange going on. Many visitors were arriving in the city and disappearing somewhere. An old facility had been revitalized and heavily secured. The SWAT Kats had been seen crossing the skies more frequently than was normal. Yes, something was definitely up.
However, his plans were too far along for him to want to abort them at this juncture despite his concern something was off in the city. So, when he launched his attack, he kept an eye for anything else that was suspicious about the city defenders’ behavior and, immediately, he saw proof of things not going the way they should.
It showed in the fierceness of the defense against his forces then the appearance of those giant robots taking out his creepling army, and, finally, the new weaponry from those insufferable SWAT Kats that took out his ship so easily. The whole affair had the feeling of urgency to end the fight quickly as if he was pulling them from something far more important than their enemy’s bid to take over the city.
Now armed with Feral’s explanation, he knew what was going on. However, despite all the evidence, he was still not convinced. Well, who would be? An alien invasion years from now that would wipe their species out; the warning coming from a future Feral who had since died of radiation poisoning; and the fantastic information that it was a pod built by him and a SWAT Kat that had sent that Feral here in the first place … yeah, definitely unbelievable.
So, here was Feral asking for his help and telling him that he’d already done so in that distant future but that it had been too little too late to save their species except for this harebrained idea of sending one of them into their past, which had succeeded.
“I’ll leave you be now to think about it and, to help you, I’ll send a copy of the disk of the interview with my future self so you can see and hear for yourself that what I’m telling you is very real. Just remember this… we don’t need you that badly. So, if you decide to not help, then you’ll be sent to a cell that you won’t find easy to escape from as we don’t have time to chase your ass. It’s up to you how you want to spend your time while we try to save our world from extinction.” With that, Feral turned and signaled the guard to let him out. He gave Dark Kat a last look before stepping through the opening door and vanishing from view.
Dark Kat lay frowning at the ceiling for many hours, even after the promised disc was brought an hour later and he watched it. After dinner, he finally came to a decision. He had no desire to sit in a cell with nothing to do while knowing a war was approaching. No way did he want some alien species taking his city before he could conquer it himself.
When shift change occurred, the guard checking the prisoner shivered in worried concern at the strange smile on the prisoner’s face… wondering what the strange tom could be thinking or, worse, … what he could be plotting now.
As Dark Kat lay in his hospital bed and thought about how he could be a part of saving their world while furthering his own plans for Megakat City, over at the secret facility, a certain SWAT Kat was wanting to beat his head against a wall.
“Hold it!” Razor said loudly, getting everyone’s attention in the planning room.
Angry, annoyed, and fuming faces eyed him impatiently. The current disagreement had been going on for more than an hour now, and Razor felt it time to step in.
“Look, you’ve already been told that magic is what’s going to save our world. All we here at this facility are supposed to be doing is coming up with the new weapons and equipment that will help protect the magic workers while they do their thing. To do this we have to think outside the conventional and come up with new and radical ideas no one’s ever thought of because all the normal methods and inventions will fail. This constant bickering about what can and can’t work is wasting valuable time.”
Razor felt like pulling his fur out. At the heart of the fighting was the difference of approaches between the more staid older members and the younger, more radical generation. Their minds were more flexible and could think outside the box more easily than their older colleagues.
There was a strong desire on some to kick the older guys out, but the more experienced scientists and inventors were just as important as the younger firebrands as they were more level headed and could rein in the drift toward the absurd and impractical and back toward more plausible solutions where necessary.
However, there was no doubt that a few of the older members were a bit too hidebound to old standards, and it was they who were causing the strife with their ‘it can’t be done’ attitudes. Hence all the bickering. Their insistence that certain ideas just couldn’t work stalled forward progress more times than Razor could count since the project began a year ago.
Lately, there had been times when he wished he could just have them go home. This was supposed to be the brightest and most daring group of free thinkers in the world, but he suspected some of those countries had bowed to the insistence of a particular older scientist who felt they should be a part of something this important even though their mind set was actually a detriment to the group’s goal.
Shaking his head, he realized he needed to speak with Feral and see about sending some of these guys packing… damn the political consequences. They were talking about the survival of their species here. This wasn’t the time or place to be worrying about currying favors, one-up-man-ship, or political and military maneuverings.
And, how the hell had he ended up being the mediator anyway? Ever since he began working with these guys, he found himself halting his work more and more often just to mediate this ongoing disputes. It was getting old, and he was fast losing patience. This small core group was the heart of the project, the brainiest minds who would come up with the designs that the rest of the facility would turn into prototypes. Others would test the prototypes, then, when and if the tests were successful, pass them onto the manufacturers who would mass produce them. So, it was important they work together, not at cross purposes.
Thankfully, there was a pawful within this group who had no problem thinking outside the box or working together. And, they just happened to be from Megakat City: Professor Hackle, Dr. Greenbox, Dr. Konway, and a small pawful of weapon’s designers from Pumadyne. Perhaps it was because of all the wackiness this city threw at them, but they had no problem bringing up truly wild ideas into the discussions then picking them apart to see what might work. This was the group Razor normally was a part of.
It wasn’t unusual for the main group to break into smaller ones, but, at least once a week, all these smaller groups would get together and discuss what progress they’d made then pick what designs seemed feasible to build. This was when the conflicts would start up, and, as time went on, the disagreements began to take over the meetings and little was actually getting done.
So, here he was again, trying to soothe ruffled feathers and wondered for the nth time how he had ended up in the role of mediator in the first place.
I definitely have to speak to Feral, he grumbled mentally as he prevented an irate younger scientist from landing a fist in the face of a surly older weapon’s designer, both from out country.
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.