Hey guys, Pen here.  I know, I know, it took a really long time for
this to finally get written, but I had some technical difficulties with
an annoying computer and a disk crash.  A couple of notes:
    As I have said before, I had originally planned this to be the last
part in the Choices Series.  Well, it didn't work out like that
(surprise surprise).  There will at least be a Part IV, but after that I
can't say, really.
   I want to thank everyone who emailed me about the other two pieces in
the Choices Series puzzle, but a couple special thanks go out:  First
and foremost, to Worthy Sizemore, who heckled me at every possible
opportunity to finish this part.  Thanks, Worthy, keep up the good work. 
:-)      And also to Kristen Sharpe.  If you guys haven't seen some of
her art, you are missing out on something.  Wow.  I was honored when I
saw the closing scene from Part II of Choices on her archive.  Thanks
Kristen, I really appreciate it.  Her site is located at: 
http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/Studios/5092
    Finally, any comments/questions/concerns/reactions/flames are
welcome.  Just email to Penguinchk@aol.com.  Enough jabbering, on with
the story.

Choices
By: Pen
email: Penguinchk@aol.com
Part III: The Effects and Repercussions

    "Leeona?  Leeona!  Wake up!"  a fuzzy voice infiltrated the relaxing
darkness.  Dr.  Leeona Pryde moaned and rolled over on the emergency
room gurney, mumbling something partially coherent about "just a couple
more minutes," and rolled back over again.  The nurse placed her paws on
her hips, sighing.  She grabbed a hold of the leg lock at the bottom of
the gurney.  Smiling, she flipped the lock, causing the entire bed to
fall to the ground.  Leeona snapped up to a sitting position as she felt
the bed hit the floor.  She rolled off quickly and looked up angrily at
the nurse.  "Jesus, Melinda," she lamented, rubbing her now-sore tail
joints, "you could have done that with a little more tact."  Her tail
swished behind her in half-anger.
    "I tried, Lee, but I have also tried to wake you too many times. 
That's the best way I know how.  Anywho, you asked me to wake you up at
midnight, and I did.  Your train leaves in 15 minutes."
    "Thanks, Mel.  Things aren't too busy?"
    "Naw, not tonight.  It is pretty slow."
    Leeona yawned deeply one last time, and looked groggily at the
glowing digital clock on the bland green-tiled wall.  Rubbing her eyes
and blinking several times, she cleared her throat and wearily walked
out into the bright fluorescent lights of the ER.  Waving semiconscious
good-byes to those still there, she shouldered open the heavy swinging
doors and walked into the cool midnight of the summer.
    A deafening roar cleared what little grogginess was left in her system
as she saw the bright blue afterburn of the Turbokat in air above her. 
She gave no heed to it, nor to the bumping she heard on the roof of the
building, nor to the small "kcshoo" sound of a SWAT Kat glovatrix
firing.  She only gave passing thoughts to the whizzing she had heard,
and the soft thumps of feet and clicks of bare toe claws before a cloth
was clamped over her mouth.  She struggled, but only briefly as she
gasped the tainted air and fell into unconsciousness.

****************************************************************************
    When Dr. Leeona Pryde awoke, she found herself blindfolded, but
untied.  As her senses faded back into focus, she felt herself sitting
in a chair.  Her startled eyes widened as she smelled noxious fumes and
jerked her head away, recognizing the stench of smelling salts.  "Easy,"
a deep hekat's voice soothed.  "I'm not going to hurt you.  I need your
help."  Leeona jerked her head around wildly, futility trying to see
through the blindfold.  Her tail swished madly behind her in confused
circles.  Her paws flew to her face, feeling the mask on her eyes.  She
felt large, warm paws on her arm and she stilled her own, afraid what
the other might do if she fought back.
    "W-why me?"  She found her voice sounded hollow as it bounced off
concrete walls in a wide open area.  For the first time, she was aware
of a cool breeze wafting from her right, bringing the scent of oil and
machinery.  She turned her blind face towards it.  It lightly brushed
her hair out of her face.
    "Because, you are a doctor, Dr. Pryde, and my friend needs a doctor. 
He's ... he's hurt really bad, more than I can patch up."
    Leeona heard the hurt in his thin voice, the softening when he
talked about his friend.  She could almost feel the dull ache in his
chest as he looked over at his friend.  "Dumb sentimental fool," she
berated herself silently.
    Her voice acquired a soft confidence as her tail stopped swishing,
and her ears, previously flattened back on her head, regained their
usual rounded composure.  "I can't do anything with a blindfold on my
eyes, can I?  And how do you know my name?"
    T-Bone rolled his eyes as he thought back to when she had brought in
the station wagon for a bad steering column.  That thing had been a pain
in the tail.  Was it just the other day he and Jake were fixing those
two cars?  Just the other day when they were both alive and healthy,
just the other day ...
    "Excuse me?" Her voice interrupted his thoughts.  "Can I get this
blindfold off of me?"  She said it more of a command than a request, and
he complied.
    She momentarily shielded her eyes from the bright fluorescent lights
overhead.  As her eyes came back into focus, they fell upon a huge room,
a hall, more like.  The ceiling towered over them.  Various machines
were scattered along the walls, as well as tables with futuristic
weapons and missiles in all stages of repair and disrepair.  Right
behind her, as she stood up, amazed at the size of the room, she found a
sleek jet, black as night with crimson, azure, and bright yellow stripes
and streaks decorating it.  Her jaw dropped as she slowly turned on her
heels to see who was holding her blindfold.  A massive hekat stood in
front of her.  His dark blue flight suit zipped up only to his chest,
and allowed the blood-soaked t-shirt to show through.  Though he masked
his face, he couldn't hide the concern in his eyes or the blood on his
hands and brown stripes on his arms.  He gestured towards a table behind
him and to his right.  She saw the other SWAT Kat there, his chest
almost imperceptibly rising and falling.  An oxygen masked was hooked
onto his muzzle, and his arms, legs, stomach, and one paw were bandaged
messily.  Both eyes were shut tight, a mute testimony to the pain.  The
caramel-colored fur was matted and wet. Reacting on instinct and
training, she rolled up her sleeves.  She strode over to the table, the
coppery smell of blood wafting to her nostrils.
    "Let's get to work," she said, reaching Razor's side.  She carefully
examined the large gash on his head through his mask.  She found a
bottle of ethyl alcohol on the table, and realizing that was her best
bet, started to pour it over her hands, disinfecting them.  "What kind
of supplies you have?"
    "A couple of Enforcer emergency kits."
    "Crud," she said, carefully examining Razor's wounds, "that might
not be enough."  She turned her attention to his right paw.  She
unwrapped the bandages skillfully, and then winced as she saw the purple
swollen paw.  "This is bad."  Examining the paw, she saw many tendons
that had been damaged, and a lot of whitish-yellow puss that needed to
be cleared away.  Glancing down the length of his body, she saw the
partially crushed leg.  She shook her head and sighed.  "This definitely
won't be enough."
    T-Bone watched her intently, trying to look like he knew what she
was doing.  He did not fully trust this shekat, and had only known her
from their brief meeting when she had brought her car into the garage. 
He didn't know where else to turn.  His chest ached, and all he had
known was that his best friend needed medical attention ... quick.  His
eyes begged to close, his body screamed for release, for rest.  His
joints ached.  His muscles complained.  His mind fought for sleep.  But
too many cups of coffee had betrayed him, and he was reserved to nervous
pacing.  She had done nothing, that he could tell from his brief
Enforcer medical training, to hurt Razor.  She seemed genuinely
concerned for his welfare. She glanced over her shoulder, annoyed, as he
paced around for the 42nd time in two minutes.  She produced a soft
growl in the back of her throat and swung her ears and attention back to
the patient.  Her tail swished busily behind her as she concentrated on
her examination.
    "Look, T-Bone, or whatever the heck your name is,"  she sighed. 
"Your friend here needs more help that I can give him with these measly
supplies.  He needs to go to the hospital, quick."
    T-Bone had stopped pacing and looked at her, exhaustion slowing his
reflex skills and his brain processes.  He shook his head decisively,
"No way."
    "Stubborn one, isn't he?" she thought.  "Look," she continued out
loud, "I don't want to hurt your partner, I want to help him.  I can't
do that without the proper supplies, and those are at the hospital."
    "I will get them for you."
    Leeona leaned her head to either side, feeling her vertebrae pop. 
Convincing this kat would take some work, but she was stubborn, too. 
"It's not like I need more bandages or stitches, I need x-rays and MRIs. 
If your friend does not get immediate proper medical attention, he
*will* die from his wounds."  She watched the wince go through T-Bone's
body, and the failure appear in his masked eyes.  As much as she hated
to manipulate him, it was for Razor's own good.  "You did a good job of
stopping the bleeding, a darn good job.  The fact remains, though, he
did lose a lot of blood.  On top of that, he probably has a skull
fracture, and one pretty bruised brain.  If he heals from that, which
there still is a good chance he will as far as I can see without an MRI,
there are still other complications." Seeing how her words stung the
strong kat in front of her, she brushed back a loose hair and continued
counting off on her fingers.  She was going to convince him if it was
the last thing she did.  "His paw is a mess, with tons of tendon and
possibly nerve damage.  We don't get him in there now, he might lose
control of his paw, or even worse, lose it all together.  He leg is
basically smashed with complex fractures of both his tibia and fibula. 
Luckily, his knee was spared, but he might not walk without a cane or a
limp again.  He needs to be in a hospital.  I know you want to help your
friend, so why won't you let me take him to the hospital?"
    T-Bone sighed.  He remembered the pact they had made as they started
being SWAT Kats.  They had stood in front of their newly christened
lockers, the ink on the "R" and "TB" still drying.  They had looked
around them and saw two years of work; a sleek black jet, the height of
technology thanks to Jake's ingenuity, brand new flight suits, complete
with utility pouches and oxygen masks, and a huge cavernous hangar that
had been transformed from a crumbling, cramped bomb shelter used during
the Great Nuclear War.  As Jake slipped on his mask for the first time
as Razor, a smile brightened his face.  His tail flew in wild circles
behind him.  "Chance, this is amazing!"  His voice had echoed and
bounced around the hangar as his paws gestured wildly around him.  "I
mean, this is *really* amazing!"  Chance had laughed at his partner's
excitability, but he himself had felt what Jake was feeling.  A new dawn
for them both.  A time where their work would pay off and they would
make the difference they had always wanted to.  A wide smile appeared
across his own face, his eyes dancing with new possibilities.  The day
had finally come; they were the SWAT Kats now.  The full gravity of the
situation hit Chance suddenly, and dazed, he walked over to the Turbokat
and ran his palm over the finish.  Behind him, Razor's smile lowered,
but did not disappear.  "She's a beauty, Chance.  You are going to have
a lot of fun flying her."  Chance had nodded silently, his tail swishing
contemplatively behind him.  Razor cocked his head to the side and came
up behind Chance.  "C'mon, Hotshot.  Let's get going.  We have to let
the city know they have someone watching out for them."  Razor ran a
couple steps beyond Chance, and jumped on the wing, offering his gloved
paw to help Chance up.  Chance looked at him, and cocking an eyebrow,
laughed at the extended paw.  He slipped on his own mask and felt a
surge of adrenaline as he became T-Bone.
    "Oh, c'mon, Razor," he let the moniker fall lightly off his tongue,
"I think I can get into this baby on my own, don't you?"
    As the hydraulics opened the cockpit, Razor chuckled.  "Yeah,
T-Bone, I guess you can."  As T-Bone joined him on the wing, Razor
surveyed the landscape of the concrete hangar.  He felt his dream of the
SWAT Kats solidify into reality.  "Hey, T-Bone, let's not let this end,
okay?"  T-Bone nodded, and looked at his partner as his tone grew
serious.  "I mean, not for anything."
    "What do you mean, Sureshot?"
    "I know we've talked about this before, but we aren't doing this for
ourselves, right?  It's for the city."
    T-Bone nearly snorted "Well, yeah, so what are you getting at?"
     "And the best way to protect the city is to keep our identities
secret, right?"
     "Yeah.  We've been through this."
     "Even if one of use gets hurt, or God forbid ... "
    T-Bone shifted his weight carefully from foot to foot.  "Razor, we
put our lives on the line everyday with the Enforces.  This isn't that
much different, except we don't have to take orders from anybody but
us."
    "Exactly.  Our first and foremost responsibility is to the city, not
to each other.  So if we get hurt, the masks stay on.  We take care of
each other, and not expose our identities to anyone, just because the
other's life is in danger.  Deal?"  Razor held his paw out as T-Bone
smiled and accepted it.  They shook gloved paws, and then gripped one
another's thumb.  They pulled one another into a quick, backslapping
hug.  They grinned as they leapt into their respective seats, slipping
on their helmets and braced themselves for the pinning pressure of
takeoff g-forces.  Razor's paws rested on his control panel as he gazed
at the beautiful sky around him.  The weather was clear, showing off a
gorgeous yellow sky.  In the far distance, Megakat City sat waiting to
welcome it's heroes.
    Back in the hangar, a suddenly concerned Leeona Pryde stepped
forward to lay a paw on the broad shoulder of T-Bone.  His face had
suddenly grown very distant, his eyes focusing alternatively on the
lockers, and then the wing of the Turbokat.  As her paw neared his
shoulder, he staggered back as if shot.  "I can't ..." he stammered.  "A
long time ago, we agreed that ..."
    Leeona sighed in frustration.  She reset her jaw, and a light-brown
eyebrow cocked to meet her light-brown bangs.  Her tail whipped behind
her, the full tip making oblong shapes behind her.  Her small mouth
turned up on one side.  She tried one more thing.  If this didn't work,
she didn't know what else to do.  Her voice steady and level, she spat
out her opinion matter-of-factly.  "Your friend is dying.  He will be
dead soon if you do not get him proper medical attention.  I have gone
over with you what will happen if he does, by some miracle, survive this
way.  And you will hang your partner's life on one agreement," she spat
disgustedly, "you two made years ago, I am assuming, to protect your
identities.  How will you explain it to his family, whatever family he
has, if he dies.  Would it be *just an accident* that he was so beat up? 
And why didn't you take him to the hospital, if he suffered it was?  You
will have to tell them then, won't you?  You will not only be out of a
friend, but also the entire world will know your secret anyway."  Her
voice suddenly changed.  It was no longer hard and demeaning, but
switched poles and went to soft and comforting.  "But if we get him to
the hospital," she soothed, T-Bone lifting his head, "I have a lot of
influence, and a whole bunch of favors to cash in.  I would be the only
one to attend to him without his mask, and the best nurse I have to know
that he is there.  Please.  We can help him there."
    T-Bone hesitated.  This wasn't supposed to happen, not to either one
of them.  They were supposed to go together, in the cliché blaze of
glory.  They never even realized how hard it would be for either one of
them.  "What if he needs surgery?" he asked shakily.
    She sighed.  Why didn't he want to help his friend?  "I'm an ER
surgeon, trained extensively in both areas.  I will be the only doctor
attending to him."  She stood proudly, her full 5'8" height facing
T-Bone.  Her green eyes were confident, but did not hide the spark of
worry behind them.  Her mouth set in a serious frown.  She raised her
eyebrows expectantly.
    A barely perceptible movement came from T-Bone, and she smiled,
satisfied.  "Start up the jet, I'll load him onto the plane."
******************************************************************************
    This was going to be hard to pull off, and Leeona knew it. 
Attending physician and surgeon in the ER came with some prestige, and
some power, but it wasn't much.  Keeping this as quiet as it needed to
be was going to be near impossible.  With any luck, the call she had
made to Melinda in the ER had started some of the necessary paperwork
moving, and also gave the reason both Melinda and she would be gone from
the ER indefinitely.  Leeona had just received word that her mother was
dying, and she was needed, being an only child, to look after her as she
died.  Melinda was going for "moral support."  Or so the story went. 
Melinda was the only other kat who knew what was going on.    If all
went as planned, this case would be treated just like a "celebrity" case
... complete with assumed names and minimal fuss and red tape.  But
this, this scoped something much larger, and demanded much more secrecy.
   Lee knew that should anyone hear about this, it would be a media
frenzy; the hospital would be inundated.  Reporters would search up and
down for the "story" of the SWAT Kat.  They would peek in windows, snap
photos from rooftops.  They wouldn't care about the repercussions of
such activity, the care of patients, the identity of the SWAT Kats, just
as long as they got the story.  If Mel did what she was supposed to,
they would have Razor admitted, with all the necessary tests completed
by the time anyone had any idea what was going on.  Eventually, someone
would know.  They would question what Lee and Melinda, ER staff, were
doing as the only kats attending to someone in a private room nowhere
near the ER.
    A deep sigh echoed off the curved steel walls of the belly of the
Turbokat.  She stood, her legs spread wide to maintain her balance, as
she splinted Razor's left leg.  He was laying on a platform much like a
gurney, secured to the floor of the Turbokat.  His shin was nearly
nonexistent, and bone stuck out of his calf muscle.  She could almost
imagine the bone chips floating just underneath the surface.  She shook
her head ruefully.  She would be very surprised if this kat ever walked
the same way again.  If he lived through this.
    She looked over her patient again, with a doctor's detached nature. 
She concentrated strictly on anatomy and physiology.  Without the tests,
it was very difficult to know the severity of his wounds.  His leg could
heal.  The numerous cuts and welts on his legs would take stitching, and
would result in scars, but those would heal.  The slashes and bruises
across his swollen abdomen worried her.  The cuts might have gone
through the protective layer of greater momentum and nicked intestine. 
The bruises could be a sign of internal injuries and bleeding.  He might
need a transplant.  How the heck would she explain *that* one?  She
sighed again.  Upon inspecting his chest, she was pleased and rather
surprised to find minimal damage.  Not even a broken rib.  Hmm.  Most
people would have gone right for the most vital organs.
    She shrugged and continued with her examination.
   She shivered as she reached his paw.  It disgusted her.  His partner
had cleaned out the wound as best he could, but as she unwrapped the
bandages, white-yellow puss peeled back with the wrapping.  She had not
seen an infection this bad since a gangrenous microscope slide in med
school.  She relaxed a little when she found no evidence of gangrene,
but he still might lose the paw.  She had to know how far the infection
went, and how much nerve damage there was.
    His head concerned her the most.  The rest of the damage could heal,
mostly.  Next to his abdomen, his head was what would probably kill him. 
She had peeled the battered black mask off, and had paused when she
realized she knew the kat.  His eye was swollen tight shut, a jagged cut
running from the bottom of his right ear all the way down above his
right eye.  His cheekbone on the right side had been crushed, and
numerous nicks and scrapes covered his face.  Still, despite the
injuries, she had recognized the distinct sideburns and large ears.  Her
brow furrowed  "The mechanics ... ?" she whispered.
    She heard a tinny gasp, and then a cough through a speaker above the
wall and to her left.  She knew T-Bone had been listening to what she
just said, and briefly considered the effects. She snapped out of her
reverie, her hazel-green eyes flashing.  She had a patient to attend to. 
She unconsciously brought out her doctor persona, relaying her
observations out loud into a small tape recorder.  It was quicker than
writing them down, and, she found, more useful, too.
    "Lacerations around chin, mouth, and cheekbone area on left side. 
Left ear nicked on top, but otherwise undamaged."  She paused as she
inspected his cheekbone on the other side.  "Crud," she whispered into
the recorder, "the zygomatic arch appears to have collapsed, possible
further fractures around the eyes and forehead.  Double check."  She
paused the recorder and sighed.  She hoped the frontal bone, the bone
that made up the forehead, had suffered minimal damage, and therefore
the brain would be relatively undamaged.  But she felt her gut ache as
she realized the kat could, in all possibilities, have serious brain
damage.  Crud! She needed those tests!  His main head wound was a
large gash along the suture of the temporal and parietal bone.  As she
tried to inspect it, she saw bone showing through.  She was liable to
guess that this kat had a severe concussion at the very least. He would
not regain consciousness for a while.  At the very worst, this kat had
massive head trauma with cranial hemorrhaging that, depending on the
area, could kill him at any time, paralyze him partly or wholly, leave
him mentally handicapped, or brain dead, never to regain consciousness,
never to be taken off machines. She heard the engines of the Turbokat
ease into a VTOL position as they landed on the roof of the hospital. 
She covered his face with the mask once again, and cocked an eyebrow. 
The only thing she could think of to help this kat heal was to patch him
up and hope he woke up.  She would have to let his body heal for
himself.  She frequently admitted in the ER that sometimes her
preliminary diagnosis, before tests, was a bit pessimistic.  She would
be the first one to say that sometimes she ordered uncommon tests, just
to be safe.  Sometimes they were needed, sometimes they weren't.  But
this case, she knew in the back of her mind, couldn't be the poster
child for Murphy's Law.  Everything that could go wrong, couldn't.  If
it did, this kat would have died long before she even got to him.  It
was still serious.  He needed blood, fast.  He needed tests, MRI's, bone
scans, X-rays, cerebrospinal fluid taps, anything she could think of to
rule out any damage.  No matter how lucky this kat could be, if he
didn't die, it would be impossible to escape without some kind of
permanent damage.  She could only hope for the best.

******************************************************************************

    Chance was first aware of the huge crick in his neck.  Then the
screaming television added its blaring into the fray.  His head, lolling
off to the side, straightened itself out with two loud pops.  Bleary
eyes opened, painfully disagreeing with the morning light that sheared
through the gritty windows of the living room.  "Whass goin' ... " he
slurred, staring blindly at the television.  He looked around wearily
and saw the familiar surroundings of the greasy garage and dirty
kitchen.  He was back home.  "How'd I get here?" he asked himself as he
stood up.  He wavered suddenly, and braced himself on the arm of the
couch.  His green eyes focused outside the window at a large pile of
salvage.  He lifted his arms above his head and interlocked his fingers. 
He felt rather than heard the vertebrae in his back pop in succession. 
He rubbed his eyes tiredly.  He turned his head, yawning, and found
himself staring through the glass partition separating the garage and
the living room.  He was staring straight at the red Ford escort still
sitting there.  Chance's mouth dropped into a frown as he hastily winged
his way around the partition, his eyebrows lowered and eyes widened into
a worried gaze.  He took hurried steps onto the concrete floor, but
froze as he heard something splatter underneath his mechanic's boot.  He
lifted up his foot gently, ears swiveling towards the sound.  His eyes
closed as his jaw quivered.  Dripping from his boot was a thick sanguine
liquid, nearly congealed.  He reflexively gagged, and backed up against
the glass partition, leaving scarlet footprints.  "No ... " he
whispered.  There was blood on his shoe.  Jake's blood.  Razor's blood. 
He was leaving bloody footprints.  "No ... " he repeated, frantically
sliding along the partition towards the living room.  His wide and
frenzied eyes never left the pool of blood on the concrete floor.  He
nearly fell when he reached the end, but straightened and caught
himself.  He looked again at his boot.  It had been a matter of days. 
Just days since he and Jake had been working on those cars.  Their
owners must be pissed.  A couple of days, since Jake was okay, since
they got that call from Callie.  Days since Jake had seen the garage. 
Days since Razor had seen the hangar.  Only a couple of days.  What had
happened.  Why was he here, and not at the hospital?  How was Razor? 
Why did he leave his side?  The memories of the previous night washed
over him.
    The flight to the hospital with Razor in the belly of the jet was a
blur; only one moment stuck in his head.  That moment had been  in the
form of a simple question, comprised of two single words.  The
implication and meaning to those words went far beyond that.  Pryde knew
who they were.  She knew what they looked like underneath the masks,
their names, where they lived.  She knew everything and he left her
alone with Razor.  What had he been thinking?
    He had stood lamely by Razor's bedside as she worked on him,
stabilizing everything that needed to be stabilized, testing everything
that need to be tested.  He stood there as they performed CPR and
defibrillated him when his heart stopped.  He stood there, and watched. 
He couldn't do anything to help.  They didn't let him.  He was yelled at
to get out of the way.  He was pushed off to the side.  As the nurse
bandaged more wounds, Leeona had turned to T-Bone.  "Go home."
    His dark eyes jumped up to meet hers.  "What?" he choked.
    "Go home, I said.  You can't help him here."
    He had laughed at her.  He couldn't have helped it.  It was just a
short burst of air slipping past his vocal cords.  "You can't be
serious."  His tone was flat, his eyes piercing.  She sighed and glared
at him.
    "I most certainly am.  Go home.  Get sleep, or you are only going to
worsen the situation."
    That spurned a full-fledged snort.  "How d'ya figure?"
     God, he was difficult.  She reset her jaw, and lifted her head so
that she was looking down her red/blond furred nose.  Her tail began to
swish behind her, despite her fatigue.  She snapped her arm from it's
position on her hip, and began counting off her fingers.  "One: You are
only in the way here, and making our job more difficult.  Two:  That jet
of yours on the roof is only going to attract unwanted attention. 
Three:  You being here in your costume, or uniform, or whatever it is,"
she gestured to his flight suit, "is enough to gather inquisitive eyes
every time we open the door.  Four:  You are a mess, you need a shower,
and you are covered in your partner's blood!"  Her stomach dropped as
she saw a shudder wrack his body.  His knees buckled suddenly, but he
caught himself on the metal railing on the bed., remaining in that
vulnerable position for a couple seconds before forcefully straightening
himself up.  Her mouth had been open to list the next reason, but it
shut quickly with an audible click.  "I-I'm sorry.  I didn't mean that,"
she stammered.  He looked up at her, scowling.  His eyes swirled with
anger.
    "I'm not leaving.  Period."
    "T-Bone, please."  The voice behind T-Bone made him whirl around. 
He turned to see Melinda standing there.
    "How'd she get behind me without me knowing?  Am I that out of it?"
he asked himself.
     "If you don't go, you might end up laying in a bed right next to
him," Leeona said, making him whirl around again.  Out of the corner of
her eye, she saw Melinda silently open the cabinet next to her, and pick
up a syringe and a small bottle of clear liquid.  Leeona couldn't read
the label, but she knew what she had in mind.  She suppressed a thankful
smile.
    His eyes narrowed suspiciously, and flattened on the back of his
helmet.  His thigh muscles tensed for action, and whether or not he
realized it, his claws poked through their sheaths in his paws.  "What
do you mean?" he hissed.
    Leeona held her paws up in a defensive maneuver.  "I don't mean
anything, except that you are exhausted.  Judging by your reaction just
now, you are prone to harsh decisions.  I just don't want you to
collapse on me, got that?  I'm having trouble enough with one SWAT Kat,"
she gestured with a thumb over her shoulder, "I don't need two."  One
paw dropped to her side as the other rubbed at her forehead.  She
surreptitiously glanced at the cabinet of medical supplies at her side.
    "Please, T-Bone, just leave."  The voice behind him made him spin
around again, and he saw Melinda standing there, filled syringe in paw. 
Her paw shook slightly as she held it.  "Please?" she pleaded.
    His ears swiveled to the back of his head, and he heard Leeona
filling another syringe.  "She's right T-Bone.  Just leave.  Please. 
These syringes have nothing but a little sedative in 'em.  They'll make
you sleep, for your own good, and the good of your partner.  We really
don't want to use them."  T-Bone heard her chuckle softly.  "We *really*
don't.  So you have two choices: go home now, sleep, come back when you
wake up, everything hunky-dory, or, get a syringe full of sedative,
sleep here, and increase the chances of your being found out.  Please,
T-Bone, just go home.  It's the best way."
    His fighting stance relaxed and he stood up straight.  He trudged to
the window and opened it, firing a grappling hook to the roof.  Once the
grappling had engaged, he hung for a moment outside the window.  "I
*will* be back."
    She nodded.  "I know you will."  He looked at her, sizing her up one
last time.  She placed the syringe down on the cabinet next to her.  As
his line started to recoil, she turned back around, and braced herself
against the railing of the bed.
    "Uh, Lee?"
    "Yeah?"
    "I filled my syringe with purified water."
    She chuckled, and smiled out of the corner of her mouth.
    "You know what, Mel?"
    "Hm?"
    "Me too.  Let's get back to work."

******************************************************************************
    As the memory cleared from his mind's eye, Chance spun on his heel
and tromped to the hidden entrance of the hangar.  It was time to go
back to the hospital.
    The floor shook as he stomped past the living room, then suddenly
stopped as he heard the SWAT Kats' names mentioned on the television.
    "And our top story today comes from Enforcer headquarters.  Let's go
to Ann Gora of Kat's Eye news, who is covering it live.  Ann?"
    "Thanks, Kristen."  The screen was suddenly filled with Ann Gora's
face in the middle of a mob of kats.  "As you can see, it is pandemonium
here in front of Enforcer Headquarters ... " Ann gestured around her,
and the camera followed and revealed a mass of kats, chanting, holding
signs, and straining against Enforcer barriers and officer crowd
control.  The camera returned to Ann's face as she was jostled from
behind by a member of the crowd.  She screamed to picked up on the
microphone, and pressed her ear piece farther into her ear.  "This group
of kats has been here since roughly 11:15 last night, right after the
super villain Dark Kat made a threatening broadcast, demanding control
of the city in exchange for the life of the SWAT Kat known as Razor. 
Since that time, there has been no word of what has happened, although
the city still is in the control of Mayor Manx.  Very shortly, we will
receive answers to all the questions swirling around as Commander Feral
has announced a press conference on the steps of Enforcer Headquarters. 
We are waiting for it to begin right now.  Rumors have been swirling
that Commander Feral, a long time detractor of the SWAT Kats, did not
attempt to negotiate with Dark Kat and has resulted in Razor's death. 
Other words have it ..."  suddenly the crowd in the background hushed,
and she glanced over her shoulder quickly.  "Okay, Johnny, here it
comes.  It seems that the press conference is about to begin.  Let's
listen."
    The camera swiveled to see Feral march out of the glass doors, his
boots pounding against the cold marble steps.  His long gray trench coat
flapped in the breeze rhythmically at his calves.  His tail stood
rigidly in the Enforcer style, straight up with a perfect 180 degree
curve at the top.  His dark eyes surveyed down at the gathered crowd,
with the signs now held still in the air.  He cocked a militaristic
eyebrow at the wording of the signs.  "Kill Dark Kat!" some read, "Give
Him What He Deserves."  He ignored them.  His shoulders were pushed
back, his prominent chin tilted upward regally.  A crowd member
attempted to yell something, but was quickly silenced by his
compatriots.
    Three steps behind him on his left waddled Mayor Manx.  The crowd
visibly relaxed as they saw him, his blue eyes shining, his expensive
Italian leather shoes scuffing on the steps.  His tail was still, but
barely drifting above the stone.  His lips parted into a big, toothy
grin as he saw the size of the crowd.
    The click of high heels sounded to the left of Mayor Manx as Callie
Briggs strode purposefully behind him.  Her hair was done expertly to
hide the bald patch where she had needed stitching.  The breeze brushed
her blond hair off her shoulder and across her neck.  Her pink business
suit was expertly pressed and brought out her emerald green eyes.  She
repositioned her glasses on the bridge of her petite nose, and folded
her paws neatly in front of her abdomen.
    On the right of Feral strode Lieutenant Felina Feral, her tail in
the same militaristic style as her uncle's, only with a slight twitch at
the end.  Her boots driving against the marble, she remained exactly
three paces behind her uncle, marching in perfect step.  As her uncle
approached the podium, she stood at a perfect Enforcer at-ease, her paws
in fists in the small of her back, her feet shoulder width apart.  Her
steel eyes narrowed over the crowd, looking for possible threats.  She
was surprised to find that the small band of public figures had captured
the attention of every single kat.  She began looking at the bleary-eyed
faces, and realized that they must have been there all night, awaiting
word.  It looked like she wasn't the only one who didn't get any sleep
the night before.
    Her uncle clearing his throat shook her out of her reverie.
    "As most of you know," he boomed, standing at near attention at the
podium, "at exactly 11:05 last night, a transmission signal, produced by
the wanted felon and criminal known as Dark Kat, was broadcast on
Channel 42.  He threatened to kill the SWAT Kat known as Razor if the
city was not turned over to his control.  An Enforcer officer,
Lieutenant Felina Feral," he thundered, acknowledging Felina in a quick
paw motion, "in tandem with the SWAT Kat known only as T-Bone,
infiltrated Dark Kat's broadcasting station at approximately 11:30.  By
approximately 11:45, Dark Kat had been captured and restrained."  He
paused momentarily as he allowed random cheers to fly up from the crowd. 
The signs once again started bouncing in earnest.  "At exactly 12
midnight this morning," he continued, "Lieutenant Feral and Dark Kat
were dropped off at Enforcer Headquarters.  Dark Kat has been charged
with the following offenses:  Terroristic threats with intent,
threatening a public official, kat napping, assault and battery, and
either attempted first degree murder, or first degree murder."  Feral
watched as the life seemed to fade from the crowd as he had mentioned
the murder charge.  He glanced down at the prepared statement, and then
scrutinized the crowd.  "As of 12 midnight this morning, the SWAT Kat
known as Razor was still alive, but in desperate need of medical
attention.  The last charge will hinge on the final medical status of
the SWAT Kat.  That is all.  I apologize, but as this case is still
under investigation, no questions can be answered at this time.  Thank
you."
    The camera followed the small entourage back up the steps briefly
before swinging back to the face of Ann Gora.  "Well, there you have it
folks, Commander Fer-r-r ... "  Ann Gora's words faded away as her
appearance disappeared from the television screen.  The sound of boots
echoed off the thin walls as the whine of jet engines filled the air.
**********************************************************************
    Leeona had gotten used to the sound of the Turbokat buzzing the
hospital.  If she listened carefully enough, she could just about hear
the exact moment the wheels touched down and the glovatrix was fired. 
Just about.
    But each time, the burly blond kat floating outside the window
scared the crap out of her.  She opened the window quickly and closed it
once he had climbed inside.
    T-Bone walked stiffly to the side of his partner's bed and rested
his gloved paws on the bars.  "Well?" he asked expectantly, his back
turned to Leeona.
    Leeona sighed, and leaned her head from side to side, allowing her
neck to pop.  "Sit down T-Bone."  Her voice was even and unwavering.
    His voice cracked ever so slightly when he answered her.  "No."
    She sighed again.  She looked at Melinda, curled up on the couch of
the spacious private suite.  Despite her offer to take first shift,
Melinda had basically forced her to sleep for a couple hours.  That
couple hours hadn't done anything to increase Leeona's patience.  She
sighed and dug at her eyes tiredly.  "Look, I'm going to give you an
update on your partner's condition and prognosis, and some of it might
upset you.  I would highly suggest ..."
    "Spit it out, Doc," he growled.
    She snapped her jaw shut at his interruption and raised her eyebrows
in surprise.  "Fine.  Be that way."  She pulled his chart off the foot
of the bed, and flipped pages until she found the one she wanted.  "His
lower leg was mostly shattered, and we had to attach a metal plate in
order for it to heal.  He will need physical therapy to build up that
calf again, but his leg should recover completely, given enough time." 
Without looking up from the chart, she continued.  "Other injuries on
the legs include cuts that have been stitched, and bruises that will
heal.  His abdomen did show some internal bleeding, but luckily the
damage was minimal.  Part of his liver had to be removed.  Bile
secretions for digestion shouldn't be affected, but he will have to
watch the alcohol intake very carefully."  She glanced up speculatively. 
To her surprise, T-Bone grinned and shrugged a shoulder lightly.
    "He never drank much anyway," he beamed.  "So, the way you're
talking, he's gonna be okay, right?"
    She steadied her gaze back on her clipboard.  "Let me finish,
T-Bone.  His paw was a mess, and there was tendon damage, and some nerve
damage.  That will also take some time to heal, aided by some physical
therapy.  He may lose some, but not much, dexterity in that paw.  But
the possibility is minimal.  And again, cuts that have been stitched,
etc."
   T-Bone again interrupted her.  "But he is going to wake up, right? 
He'll be fine, right?"
    She sighed again, she had been doing a lot of that lately, and
ignored him.  "That brings us to the head.  His x-rays showed no
fracture on his frontal bone, the bone that supports the forehead.  His
zygomatic arch," she gestured briefly to her cheekbone, "was depressed,
and we had to stick in a pin to stabilize that.  We did the best we
could, but his cheekbones might be a little uneven."
    It was then that her mouth suddenly went dry.  She swallowed to try
to alleviate the sensation, but it didn't work.  Sometimes Leeona hated
her job with a passion, wondered why she even decided to become a
doctor.  She could help patients heal physically, but no matter what she
did, she could not stop the pain of the friends and family.  She
preferred things simple and scientific.  There was a reason for
everything, and, although the solutions weren't as easily found, they
were there too.  One only had to work hard enough, be stubborn enough,
or just be persistent enough to find the answer.
    It was the friends that complicated things.  They wanted the answers
from you, and all you could do was give it them as straight as possible. 
Their pain you couldn't heal; it was unreachable.
    She looked at the back of the head of the hekat.  His toe claws
clicked on the linoleum floor as he shifted his weight from foot to
foot.  The blue of his flight suit contrasted starkly against the muted
sterile white of the room.  The crimson stood out almost painfully.  His
tail swung in tight circles.  His paws clutched the bars on the sides of
the bed tightly as he stared down at his prone partner.  As T-Bone
realized the silence, his shoulders slumped.  "Doc?" he muttered.
    "The temporal bone contained multiple fractures," she said flatly. 
"His brain on his left side has some hemorrhaging.  That area of the
brain is the auditory control center.  It depends on the  severity of
the damage, but if worse comes to worse," she paused.  "T-Bone, if worse
comes to worse, he will lose his hearing all together."  She watched as
he visibly bristled.
    "So he'll be deaf the rest of his life, is that what you're telling
me?" he hissed through clenched teeth.
    Unconsciously, she backed away from the hekat, bringing her paws up
in a defensive stance.  "Keep in mind, that is a worse case scenario. 
He will probably have some form of hearing loss, but it may be very
minimal, and possibly in only one ear."
    "You're not sure."  It was a statement, not a question.
   Leeona answered honestly.  "No, I'm not.  Brain injuries are very
difficult to prognosis, period, no matter what is affected."
    "But he will wake up, won't he?"
    Leeona had been expecting that question. She had been dodging it for
a while.  "I don't know."  T-Bone turned away from the bed and looked at
her.  "He has a decent chance.  He is in peak physical condition.  If he
wasn't, he wouldn't have lasted half this long.  His vitals are strong. 
He shows some signs of improvement even from last night, but he does
have multiple concussions on top of the hemorrhaging.  I wish I could
tell you."  She paused for a second as he internalized what she had just
said.  "T-Bone, if he does wake up, he will probably have some sort of
amnesia.  It's very common in coma patients, especially in head
injuries."
    T-Bone nodded slowly.  He didn't say a word as he turned sharply on
his heel and climbed back out the window.  His jaw was clenched as he
re-engaged his glovatrix grappling hook, taking him to the roof.  Leeona
smiled sadly as she shut the window.  She paused only slightly as she
drew the drapes.  She closed her eyes and shook her head as she felt the
pit open in her stomach.  "Why do they have to complicate things?" she
whispered to no one.

******************************************************************************

    Felina's steel eyes flashed to a frightening black.  "HE DID WHAT?!"
she screamed, causing the officer standing in front of her desk to jump
back two feet.
    The young officer shifted his weight precariously. His tail twitched
nervously.  His eyes never left the brim of the hat he had been wringing
in his paws.  When he had joined the Enforces, he had been ready to take
on anything.
    Anything, except a livid Feral.
    Felina had been sitting when the corporal had inched into the room. 
He had been intent at looking at anything and everything but her.  She
had been rather comfortable: her booted feet were lounged on the top of
her desk, and she was reading a file folder of material as she munched
on some pretzels.
    The corporal had woven his way through the rows of desks, seemingly
aimless.  She had only looked up briefly from some paperwork when he
placed himself, weak-kneed, at least six and a half feet away from the
front of her desk.
    Her tone had been civil, and, as always, professional.  The
annoyance was barely veiled, but her ears were swung in his direction,
indicating he had her attention.
    "Corporal Herdacure, what can I help you with?"
    He cleared his throat speculatively.
     "Uh-uhm, well, ma'am, uh, that is, your uncle sent me."
    Felina hadn't looked up from her report.  "Are you going to spit it
out anytime this month, Herdacure, or are we going to play 20
questions?"  The annoyance was no longer veiled.  The corners of her
mouth turned up in a bothered smirk.  "And my uncle will be referred to
as Commander Feral *at* *all* *times*, understood?"
    "Uh .. yes ma'am, of course.  I apologize, ma'am."
    "So spit it out."
    "Ma'am?"
     Felina sighed, and glared up through her dark bangs at the
quivering hekat in front of her.  "Whatever you came here to tell me,
Corporal, please do so.  I can't read minds."
    "Oh, uh yes ma'am.  Of course ma'am."
    "So?"
    Herdacure visibly shuddered.  He took off the uniform hat he had
been wearing and began turning it around in his paws.  He opened his
mouth, intent on saying something, but his jaw snapped shut.  He looked
down at his hat.
    Felina rolled her eyes and reset her jaw.  "Herdacure!  Now!"
    Herdacure was intent on his hat as the words spilled out of his
mouth as one.  "darkascaped."
    "Okay, try that one again, in English this time."
    He never met her eyes.
    "Dark Kat's escaped."
    If Felina had been totally aware of what happened the few seconds
after Herdacure's announcement, she may have been pretty impressed with
herself.  In one fluid motion, she launched herself out of the chair,
kicked her feet off the desk, slammed the case file down, and threw her
Coke across the room, splattering it against the side wall.  She stood,
her claws flat against her desk, elbows locked.  She leaned over the
desk and glared at the corporal, now a good ten feet away from her desk,
and looking as if he was going to bolt any second.
    "Corporal, REPORT!" she snarled, baring her incisors.
    He straightened slightly, grateful to fall into the rhetoric of
report lingo.  "At approximately 1:07 this afternoon, an explosion went
off in Dark Kat's cell.  When help arrived at the scene, they found the
two guards assigned to that cell knocked cold, and also injured in the
explosion.  Ballistics found that it was detonated from the inside the
cell.  Perimeter cameras showed Dark Kat's craft suddenly appear outside
the window of his cell right before the explosion.  Creeplings were also
seen outside the cell approximately twenty minutes before the
explosion."
    Felina ran her paw through her hair, and then scrubbed at her eyes. 
"I don't believe this is happening," she breathed.  She looked up at the
officer in front of her.  Her jaw clenched, she hissed,  "is that all,
Corporal?"
    "Uh, yes ma'am."
    She scowled into thin air, and stifled a sound emitted from deep
within her throat.  "Thank you, Corporal.  Dismissed."
    If Felina had been in a joking mood, she would have cracked some
comment about Herdacure and the invisible flame that had caught his tail
on fire.  Or maybe something about the brand new land speed record.
    But Felina was *not* in the mood.
*****************************************************************************
    The thump of fur hitting canvas echoed off the concrete walls in the
makeshift gym.  A blond fist, wrapped tightly in gauze, slammed against
a punching bag repeatedly.  Beads of sweat became streams as Chance
jabbed, again and again, over and over, at the giant sand bag.  The bag
strained against the chains that attached it to the ceiling.  Rapid
combinations made the bag creak and buckle.
    His arms ached for release.  Every punch sent a spike of pain
through his muscles.  First, his forearms screamed; his hand had been in
a fist too long.  Then, his biceps.  They pleaded for less movement. 
His triceps wanted the opportunity to clear impurities from its system. 
His chest and back yearned for some different movement.  His deltoids
just wanted some rest.  His tank top and sweat pants were both soaked
through.  His heartbeat was speeding, and his breathing was laboriously
quick.  Yet, he continued his abuse of the bag.
    He had found that the only way to sleep at night was to wear himself
out to the point of collapse.  The few precious moments between awake
and asleep were the playground of thoughts, and what Chance had been
thinking about kept him awake at night.
     Had he been a scholar, he might have appreciated the irony.
     Battles with words and humor with quick wit was not his strong
point, though.  Physical humor was.  Give him Scardy Kat any day.  He'd
be happy.  As such, he never released stress with words.  He released it
by pummeling the stuffing out of something.  It had always seemed to
work, until now.  With every punch, the pit of his stomach mocked him. 
It was hollow, a giant empty space that nothing could fill.  His tail
intently swished behind him.  His ears laid down on the back of his
head.  Sweat dripped down his furrowed eyebrows, stinging and blurring
his deep green eyes.  He glanced at the digital clock near the bench
press, but reading the numbers was impossible.  It didn't matter anyway. 
He could feel his body let up.  Every blow he landed on the bag brought
him a step closer to needed sleep.
    He couldn't just go to bed like any other kat, he thought to
himself.  No.  He couldn't do that.  Then he would remember everything
that went on the past few days.  The helmet, the glove, the blood on the
wall.  His partner dangling from wires, beaten, starved, a bloody mess. 
T-Bone trying to patch up the damage the best he could.  He could still
feel himself pinning down Dark Kat, the blade of his glovatrix resting
just outside the casing.  Just a couple centimeters more, and Dark Kat
would have been out of commission for good.  But, they caught him this
time.  That was all that mattered.  He was locked up in Enforcer
Headquarters in a maximum security cell.          
	Chance had lied unwaveringly to Jake's sister over the phone.  
Jake wasn't there, he told her, because he was out on a date.  Jake, 
although still in a coma, was improving.  There was a slightly better 
than even chance that he would wake up.  They wouldn't know about his 
hearing, memory, or paw for a while, but at least there was a better 
chance he would wake up.
    Then why the heck did if feel like something wasn't finished?  His
thoughts broke off as a bolt of pain knifed through his upper arm. He
clenched his jaw and grunted through the pain, but did not lose his
rhythm on the bag.  The muscle spasm would pass, but not before it was
good and ready to.
    A slight beeping noise perked up his ears and directed his attention
to the pager sitting on a nearby table.  His end of the "Kat Pager," as
Felina had so ingeniously named it, sat screaming for attention. 
Chance, for the first time in over two hours, dropped his paws to his
side.  Sweat dripped off of them onto the floor.  He stood still for a
moment, panting, and staring at the pager as if it held the secrets to
the world.  His eyes narrowed.  "The heck ... ?" he huffed.  He
staggered slightly as he took his first steps, exhaustion working on
him.  He picked up the pager and spoke into the speaker.  "T-Bone here."
    "T-Bone?  It's Lieutenant Felina Feral.  Are you okay?  You don't
sound so good."
    Chance's breathing had slowed, but he still found himself nearly
panting.  "Yeah, just, uh, working out.  Can I help you with something,
Lieutenant?"
    "No, not really T-Bone.  I have something to tell you, and you are
*not* going to like it.  Are you sitting down?"
    Chance bristled.  It was a deeply ingrained habit whenever someone
told him to sit down.  "No, and I don't want to," he spat defensively.
    Felina was neither surprised nor put out by his response.  She had
been expecting it.  "Then do you have something nearby to hit that won't
break your paw?"
    "Yes, Lieutenant."  Every syllable was carefully pronounced through
clenched teeth.  He was not in the mood to play games.  "Now, would you
kindly *spit* *it* *out*?"
    "Dark Kat escaped."
    The ensuing scream rocked the foundations of the small house.  The
startled rats in the salvage piles scurried over and around each other. 
Birds took flight from the roof.  And the punching bag, confined
underneath dozens of yards of earth, flew across the room, the victim of
a single roundhouse kick.
   Felina explained the situation to him in as few words as possible. 
She knew he wasn't listening anyway.  "T-Bone," she stated after she was
finished with the brief.  "Hey, T-Bone!"
    She finally got his attention.  He grunted in recognition.
    "I've already talked to the deputy mayor.  An hour and a half, her
office in City Hall.  Got it?"
    She only heard a grunt before the connection was terminated.
    Felina placed the pager in her gym bag before placing her bag in her
locker in the shekats locker room.  She had found it was one of the few
places in Enforcer Headquarters that wasn't on camera surveillance.  She
changed into her sports bra and gi before making her way out to the
martial arts dojo in the gym.  She was ready for the workout of her
life.
******************************************************************************
    Callie and Felina had been looking speculatively at one another for
ten minutes.  Their claws had been drumming a similar rhythm into the
deep mahogany of the conference table in Callie's office.  Their tails
followed similar patterns through the air as they waited, uncertain when
and if the burly hekat would walk through to door.  Their faces showed
the same mask of worry, embedded deep in their light eyes.
    "GOD DAMMIT!" Felina's frustration sliced through the silence as she
pounded her fist loudly against the table.  Callie jumped at the sudden
sound.  Felina shook her head and ran her paw through her hair.  "How
the heck could they let him go?"
    Callie pulled her glasses off her face and let her emerald gaze
fight against the brightness of the mid-afternoon sun.  She squinted as
pain shot through her head, her paw unconsciously going to the stitches
in her head.  Her blond hair usually covered the bald spot, but she felt
no need to hide it today.  She had not spent the usual time fixing her
hair this morning; only fifteen minutes with a hair dryer and a ponytail
holder had done it.  There wouldn't be any cameras today; it was
Saturday.  She stared into the sun for a few seconds longer, almost to
prove she couldn't be beaten, before she turned her eyes back to Felina
as the Enforcer paced quickly around the room.  Callie sighed and placed
her glasses back on her nose.  "It boils down to this, Lieutenant.  Stuff
happens.  No amount of preparation or planning can stop it.  Stuff just
happens."  She shook her head as she spoke.  She didn't want to admit
that Dark Kat had escaped.   She watched as the sunlight illuminated the
off-white carpet.  The color had been "soothing," according to the
decorator.  Imperceptibly, she saw the sunlight lengthen as the
afternoon got later.
    Both shekat's ears swiveled to the door when they heard a soft, but
forceful knock.  Without waiting for an acknowledgment, T-Bone opened
the door and strode inside.  He chose one of the black leather chairs
like the one Callie had been sitting in, and sat down.  He looked over
both shekats before cocking an eyebrow.  "Well?"
    Callie was the first to speak.  "You heard?"
    T-Bone reset his jaw.  "Yeah."
    "So what are we going to do about it?" Felina asked.
    T-Bone leaned back into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. 
He stayed silent and glared at the two shekats.
    Felina sighed.  "Look, T-Bone, we need you to help, not to be
difficult," she spat.
    Callie winced outwardly at Felina's tone.  She could see an argument
brewing.
    T-Bone sat up slowly in his chair and scowled at Felina.  "Look,
Lieutenant, you are the ones who let him go, I don't need ..."
    " ... to start an argument right now."  Callie's voice was clear and
commanding.  "T-Bone, sit back.  Lieutenant Feral, sit down.  Arguing
over petty things will not get anything done.  I think the most
important thing we have to address here is not how Dark Kat escaped, but
rather, how do we find him and get him back."  Her gaze switched between
the two.  "Well?  I'm open to suggestions."
    "No, Deputy Mayor, I think you are wrong there," Felina stated
flatly.  "I think the most important thing right now is if it is
applicable to get Razor some protection."  She glanced over at T-Bone
out of the corner of her eye to see his reaction.  "Dark Kat is a
vengeful brute, and if he hears that Razor is still alive, he will
tear this city apart to find him."
    T-Bone's voice cut Felina off.  "The first place he will look will
be hospitals," he said, taking off his helmet and scratching the top of
his masked head.  He folded his paws in his lap and looked up.  "That
could cause a lot of unneeded deaths.  Dark Kat would cut off life
support systems if it would help him find Razor."
    "Bingo," Callie said, unconsciously mimicking Razor, not noticing
the wince that appeared briefly on T-Bone's face.  "So what do we do? 
Move Razor out of whatever hospital he is in right now?"
    Felina shook her head sadly.  "Still doesn't solve the problem. 
Dark Kat would just keep looking."
    "So we keep moving him," Callie continued.
    T-Bone cut in, shaking his head.  "Won't work.  I've talked to the
doctor about this.  It is not a good idea to move him.  He's still in a
coma and very weak.  Moving him would only make him worse."
    "So what do we do?  We won't be able to hide his presence in that
hospital forever.  Someone is bound to find him."
    There was silence around the large table as the three kats each left
one another to his or her thoughts.  Callie rubbed at a small scar near
her hairline and glared at the "soothing" carpet as the sun cast longer
shadows into the room from the windows behind her.  The Deputy Mayor's
thoughts were logical, and simple.  "If we could move him," she thought
to herself, "that would solve all of our problems."
    The windows were on Felina's left, and she turned her head to stare
into the setting sun.  The Enforcer's thoughts were calculating and
devising, killing two birds with one stone.  "Maybe bait?  Getting Dark
Kat out in the open by using Razor?  While keeping him safe from harm,
of course."
    It wasn't long before she spoke those thoughts.  "Maybe," she began,
"we could let leak a bogus location for Razor, and then set a trap for
Dark Kat there."
    Callie looked up from her contemplation, and pointed her index
finger at Felina.  "That could work."
    T-Bone rubbed at the joint of his jaw, the clenching of the last few
days starting to bother the muscles and tendons.  He shook his head. 
"He might not go for it, or he might catch on.  There would be a danger
to Razor and others."
    "So that brings us back to the original question.  What the heck do
we do?" Callie said.
    Minutes passed in silence before the shekats saw the huge toothy
grin spread across T-Bone's face.  "T-Bone?" Callie asked.
    "What do we do, Miss Briggs?"  It was stated as a curiosity rather
than a serious question.  Callie raised an eyebrow to his tone.
    "That's the million dollar question, T-Bone."
    "We kill Razor."
    Callie looked incredulous as Felina leaned back and chuckled. 
T-Bone looked utterly satisfied.
    "WHAT?!" Callie blurted.
    "GENIUS!" Felina laughed, and then turned to Callie, who was fuming
in confusion.  "What he means, Deputy Mayor, is that we report to the
media and everyone that Razor has died.  If Dark Kat believes Razor is
no more, he won't go after him.  He'll be safe."
    "And then, we use me as bait," T-Bone's voice was casual before it
lowered to a hissing growl, "and bag the scum-sucking piece of gutter
trash."
    Callie smiled genuinely for the first time in days.  "That just
might work.  It's crazy, but it just might work."
******************************************************************************
    As T-Bone entered the familiar surroundings of the sterile white
hospital room, he raised his paw in a lame attempt in greeting.  Melinda
smiled warmly, but saw it fell short as T-Bone lumbered into the chair
set at the head of the bed.  Her forehead crinkled in empathy as he
adjusted his position, taking off his helmet and placing it on the
floor.  He rested his head on the back of the high-backed wooden chair,
eyes staring vacantly up to the styrofoam-tiled ceilings.  Melinda
continued the injection into Razor's IV, never taking her eyes off the
deflated hekat in the chair.  His paw was slung over one arm, and in his
slumped position, it just grazed the top of the blue-tinted linoleum
tile.  The ever-present circles underneath his eyes were deeper than
before, as if he had been on the verge of sleep, but had been
interrupted.  His other paw lay across the other arm of the chair,
holding his motionless tail.
    Her eyes darted to the monitors of the medical machinery as her
breath caught in her throat.  There was something she wanted to say to
the SWAT Kat, but she couldn't find the right words.  They still didn't
know if Razor would wake up, and how much memory or hearing he would
have if he did.  She hadn't talked much to T-Bone, just a little idle
chat.  He usually came and went pretty quickly, and she was busy with
the day-to-day care of his partner.  She had no clue how she could
relate.
    "Lee is right," she thought bluntly.  "Friends always do complicate
matters."  She suddenly wanted Lee here to deal with this kat.  She
shook her head as she realize that Lee was at the library, doing some
research on neurology.  No hope of rescue.
    Her forehead furrowed as she recognized the rather apropos irony of
her words.  No hope of rescue.  She glanced at her patient, his face a
mess of bruises and swelling.  Patches of fur had had to be shaved off
for the surgery.  She wondered what this kat had been through, and was
going through currently.  Not for the first time, she wondered if it was
worth it, or even if he thought it was worth it..
    But it wasn't her place to pass judgment on the lives of her
patients.  Her job was to take care of their bodies, and hoped they
helped her out.  She let a sad smile play at the corners of her lips as
she realized that would be the ultimate test for this kat.  If he made
it through, she guessed he thought it was worth it.  If he didn't, then
that was one question that never needed answered.  She wondered what
T-Bone would do if Razor decided it wasn't worth it.  Would he become a
recluse?  Would he continue to fight in that jet without his partner? 
Would he get a new partner?
    "Y'know ..." she started hesitantly, afraid to interrupt the steady
beat of the heart monitor, "sometimes it helps to talk to them."
    T-Bone's head slowly lowered to face her, and she suddenly felt
distinctly insignificant in his gaze.  "Huh?" he snorted.
    Melinda cleared her throat as her tail began to wave nervously
behind her.  "Well, I've been an Rn for a while," he fingers curled
hesitantly around each other, "and I've seen some freaky stuff. 
Sometimes, if you talk to them, the ones in the coma, they can hear you. 
It can help," she said, her voice raising slightly as she finished.
    Across the bed from her, T-Bone didn't move a muscle until an
eyebrow crept its way up his forehead.  Melinda squirmed in his gaze,
then put away the syringe and left the room quietly.
    T-Bone watched the nurse leave the room, her head down, her ears
laid low.  He couldn't tell if she was mad or embarrassed, or what. 
Truth be told, he really didn't care at that moment.   He let his tail
drop out of his left paw as he stood wearily.  He leaned his weight on
the creaking railings on the side of Razor's bed.   He looked at his
partner's barely-recognizable face, half-shaven and swollen to the point
of unnatural distortion.  His troubled eyes gazed at the back of the
door almost unconsciously, then turned back to his partner.  His leg was
in a cast and sling, lifted above the rest of his body.  His right paw
was bandaged cleanly, and tightly, the infection and swelling already
disappearing.  His abdomen was a mass of white bandages.  T-Bone sighed
deeply, his jaw clenched stubbornly.
    "Theresa called the other day," his voice was clear and soft as he
spoke, but his eyes stared intently at his paws.  "I told her you
couldn't come to the phone.  Told her you were out on a date."  His paw
reflexively ran through his mussed blond hair, pulling his mask off. 
"She didn't buy it.  I knew she wouldn't.  She's too darn smart," he
chuckled softly, but his green eyes never lifted from his gloved paws
that were fiddling with the removed mask.  "You didn't get all the
Clawson smarts, partner.  Your sister got a lot of 'em, too."  His words
echoed uncomfortably on the bare walls.  "We talked for a while.  Y'know
how me and Trese are.  Anyway, she said that Meredith got a full tuition
scholarship to Megakat U for next year.  Apparently, her audition went
fantastic.  She nailed everything.  I mean, I knew the kid could play
the trumpet, but a full ride.  Wow.  Plus, she can commute, so that
saves on the housing costs.  She'll graduate in four or five years for
basically the cost of books.
    "Michael is getting over the bronchitis he caught at school.  Good
lord, how old is he now? 14?  Kid's growing up fast.  Trese says he's
got a girlfriend."  He looked up suddenly, but only saw the pale, still
form of his partner.  His eyes returned to his paws.  He cleared his
throat and continued.  "She says he's devastated by the news of what is
going on ... y'know what I mean.  Of Razor's 'predicament.'  Yeah,
that's exactly how she phrased it.  'predicament.'  I just about choked
at that point, Sureshot.  I gagged, then coughed.  I couldn't help it. 
She asked if I was okay." Chance shook his head.  "I told her I just
caught something in my throat.  Yeah, right.
    "I think Michael is going to have a hard time getting over what
Callie and Felina are going to release to the press,"  Chance slid his
paw over his face, smoothing out errant fur.  His ears drooped as he
stared at Jake.  "I'm sorry, Buddy, I don't want to give you any ideas,
but we had to do it.  We couldn't figure out anything else; none of it
would have worked.  Dark Kat escaped.  I know, I know, it's stupid. 
It's ridiculous, but he did.  Dumb Enforcers, right out from underneath
their tails.  Blew the cell wide open, then took off in his jet.  So, we
devised a plan.  We are going to report that you ... uh, that you," he
stopped, brows furrowing as he sputtered, " ... that you didn't make it
out of the old airport.  Like I said, don't get any ideas.  None
whatsoever.  I'm sure Meredith will want her big brother around for her
freshman recital."  He paused as started pacing back and forth across
the length of the bed.  "Felina named your little pager thing.  It's the
Kat Pager now.  You'll name it something better when you get the
chance."  He shrugged as he cracked a smile.  "How can you blame her? 
She's a Feral; she has no sense of creativity."  He chuckled lamely at
his own joke.  He heard the echoes bounce off the silent white walls,
only to gradually fade into the quiet beeping of the heart monitor.  He
stopped in his tracks as he listened.  He turned to his partner.  Jake
lay still.  He hadn't moved an inch.  Not anything.  His chest rose and
fell with the same rhythm as it had.  The heart monitor remained
unchanged.  His eyes were still clenched shut, his mouth a thin line.
    Chance's face compressed.  His brows drew closer together, his
deep-set eyes suddenly nearly hidden.  His mouth formed a tight frown as
his jaw clenched shut.  He reached blindly for his mask, finding it
laying on the chair.  He pulled it over his head, then quickly put on
his helmet.  As he adjusted his glovatrix on his paw, he started to back
away.  "Uh, look, I gotta get going.  Lieutenant Feral and Deputy Mayor
Briggs wanted me to be there for the announcement.  I've spent too much
time here already."  A few long strides later, he had reached the
window.  He hesitated only a second as he climbed out the window, one
leg dangling 42 stories above the street.  He looked back at the bed. 
Jake's chest rose and fell in the same steady rhythm.  Over the rush of
air, T-Bone heard the monotonous beeping of the heart monitor.  He
activated his glovatrix and was carried to the roof.
    The door cracked open fifteen minutes later.  Melinda cautiously
listened to find out if T-Bone was still in there or not.  She found the
room empty, and she walked in carrying a clipboard with the list of
notations she had to make.  As she checked the brain wave monitor, her
heart fluttered for a second.  She blinked, and then double checked. 
She picked up her cellular phone, dialed Lee's cellular number from
memory, and impatiently waited for her to pick up.
******************************************************************************
    Leeona had forgotten just how much wearing glasses annoyed her.  The
hard wooden chair cut off circulation to most of her lower extremities,
and she shifted uncomfortably at the numbness.  Her tail waved lamely in
response to the sudden movement.  She pulled her glasses off her face
and rubbed the bridge of her nose tiredly.  Her green eyes tried to
focus on the multitude of neatly placed books on the distant mahogany
shelves, but the titles were blurred just outside of focus.
   She let out the biggest sigh the quiet hour would allow.  The past
couple of days, the medical library at Megakat University had been her
home.  While Melinda dealt with the day to day care of the SWAT Kat, she
buffed up on her neurology.  There was nothing wrong with knowing too
much.  And knowing too much was probably not possible for Razor's
situation.
    She stopped herself in mid thought, her jaw hanging open in an
interrupted yawn.  She tilted her head to the side as her rounded ears
stood up straighter.  For some reason, she found it odd that she had
referred to him as Razor.  Her sense of formality she usually held with
her patients had somehow eroded away with this one.  She tried to
remember the last time she had referred to him as anything other than
"he" or "the SWAT Kat" to Melinda, but couldn't pick out one particular
incident.  Sure, she always referred to him as Razor to T-Bone, but ...
   Again, she stopped herself in mid thought.  And again, she wondered
when the other SWAT Kat had become T-Bone to her.  It represented to her
a breakdown of the typical doctor-patient relationship.  It represented
personal involvement.  She didn't like that idea.  It wasn't a good idea
to become friends with your patients, especially if they were masked
"heroes" or "vigilantes," depending on who you asked.
    She cocked an eyebrow at her next thought.  It wasn't necessarily a
bad idea, either.  It certainly afforded you some protection.
   A giggling snort split the silence of the old venerated building, and
she received more than a few angry, reproachful looks from studious med
students.  She told herself to evaluate what she was doing.  Masked
vigilantes.  VTOL jets.  Supervillians.  It was all so unreal!  She
wondered how she got involved in all this.  She was just an ER doc. 
That's it.  But one day her car broke down, and she took it in to get it
fixed.  Unwittingly, she went down the line in the yellow pages and
picked the first garage that would tow it for free and had a decent rep. 
It took her into the "Cs" and Chance and Jake's garage.
   Leaning against the side of her station wagon, Leeona had been
relieved when she saw a unstable-looking tow truck come bouncing down
the road.  Though the road she was on was perfectly paved, the truck was
covered in a layer of thick dust.  She adjusted her reflective
sunglasses so that she could see the pair in the cab of the truck a
little better.  The driver, a stocky-looking blond kat, was grinning
like a cheshire, leaning over the steering as if he was driving an
expensive sports car.  His companion, a lanky reddish-orange kat with
large ears and long sideburns, was admonishing the driver for something,
gesturing to the dirt that was spread over the windshield.  As they
pulled up next to Leeona and her steaming car, the final bits of their
conversations echoed against the wall of the small building next to the
car.  "I'm telling ya, Chance," the slimmer kat's voice rang against the
concrete, "*you* get the truck dirty with *your* 'shortcuts,' so *you*
haveta clean it!"
    "Yeah, okay Jake, whatever," he pacified as climbed out of the truck
and rolled his eyes at Leeona.  She smiled in return. He offered his paw
in introduction.  "The name's Chance, this is my partner Jake.  What
seems to be the problem Miss ..."  He let his voice travel off,
indicating that she was supposed to fill in the blank.
   "Pryde," she said, accepting his paw, and then the paw of his
partner.  "Dr. Pryde, actually," she said politely.
   He nodded and attempted to open the hood, only to find it too hot. 
He looked over his shoulder briefly.  "Hey, Buddy, how about ..." before
he could finish his sentence, a pair of thick gloves were
unceremoniously dumped in his paws.  "Some gloves," he finished
noncommittally.
    Leeona noticed the small exchange and raised an eyebrow.  "You two
seem to work well as a team," she observed.
    Chance got a couple chuckles out of that response.  Leeona looked up
to see Jake smiling broadly as he answered her.  "You have no idea, Dr.
Pryde."
    She furrowed her brows at his cryptic response.  "What seems to be
the problem?" Chance said, turning her attention back to the car.
    "I'm not real sure, to be frank.  It just sort of up and died in the
middle of the road, with all sorts of steam coming out of the hood." 
She watched as Chance deftly opened the hood while simultaneously
stepping back to avoid being burned by steam.
    Chance gazed at the engine as he carefully loosened the radiator
cap.  "With stuff like this, usually it's the radiator.  Nothing real
big, just let the engine cool and get some water into it, it should be
fine.  We have some water in the back of the truck.  Once the engine
cools, we'll fill ya up, and you'll be on your way."
     Leeona nodded.  "How much will I owe you?"
    Chance waved his paw in the air.  "Don't worry about it," he
grinned.  "Water's free."
    Her face reflected her shock.  She couldn't stop herself before she
squeaked out, "Really?"
    Chance laughed again, as Jake answered her with an amused smile. 
"Yes, ma'am.  Y'see, our company is just me and Chance here.  We don't
like being taken advantage of, and we don't like taking advantage of our
customers.  Simply because we like to think we know more about the
subject doesn't mean we have a right to have everything our way."  He
shrugged casually.  "It's just one of our policies."
    She looked at the hekat, tilting her head to the side.  "You sound
as if you have been taken advantage of before," she probed.  These kats
weren't like other mechanics.  Behind their eyes, she saw intelligence,
and integrity.  "By someone of a 'higher' standing than you?" she
continued.
   Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Chance tense beside her, his
jaw snapping shut.
    Jake never lost a beat.  "Yeah, you might say that."  Dr. Pryde
cocked her eyebrow at another cryptic response, but decided that the kat
just didn't want to share his history with a complete stranger.  She
stopped her probing with a nod.
    After the radiator had been taken care of, Chance slammed the hood
shut and wiped his paws off on his overalls.  "Is there anything else we
can help you with, ma'am?"
    "I don't believe so, no.  I do have a quick question for you,
though.  This car is an old one, but I have driven it for years.  I was
wondering, sometimes, when I turn to the left, there is a spot where the
wheel almost feels like it gets hung up on something, then jerks the
rest of the way over."  She held out her paws in a futile gesture. 
"Does that make any sense?"
    Chance scratched his chin.  "Yeah, it sure does, actually.  There is
probably something wrong with your steering column.  You could follow us
back to the garage, and we could take a look at it there, if that's all
right?"
    She shrugged.  "Yeah, sounds okay to me."  She gestured out from
herself.  "Just lead the way."
    Lee remembered following the two kats back to the salvage yard and
then having Chance drive her home after leaving her car there.
    They had passed the drive in amicable conversation.  When he had
dropped her off in front of her apartment building, he let the engine
idle as she unlocked the door.  "So, you'll call me when it's done?"
    Chance nodded.  "Yeah.  It shouldn't take more than three days or
so.  We'll give you a call."
    She smiled.  "Okay.  Thanks then.  See ya later."
    Leeona relaxed back into the wooden chair at the library.  The
conversation she had had with Chance had not seemed strange or unusual
to her in anyway -- and yet it stuck in her head.  She ran her paw
through her brunette hair, and closed the book she had been studying
with a thud.  The echo bounced off the antique furniture of the library,
and, Leeona noticed drowsily, mixed with a pulsing, high-pitched sound. 
After the third ring, she recognized it as a cellular phone, and briefly
wondered who the idiot was who brought a cell phone into a library ...
and of all things, left it on.
    After the sixth ring, she realized it was hers.  She sheepishly
crept out of the library underneath the glares from the med students. 
When she reached the main lobby, she flipped open the receiver.  "Dr.
Leeona Pryde," she answered.
    "Lee, it's Melinda.  I think you should come back to the hospital
*now*."
    Leeona's brow furrowed as she quickened her pace outside to
Melinda's car.  She felt a pit open in her stomach, but suppressed it. 
"Has his situation changed?"
    "Yeah, Lee.  You might say that."
    Leeona sighed.  "Crud.  It's his liver again, isn't it?"
    "No, it ..."
    "Okay," Lee interrupted for the second time, "I'll be there in a
couple minutes.  See you then."
    On the other end of the line standing in the middle of a hospital
room Melinda sighed, exasperated and frustrated with her friend's
impatience and inability to let her finish what she had to say.  She
terminated her end of the call and looked at the pale, still kat on the
bed.  She studied the beeping machines one more time, still not
believing the readouts.  She crossed her arms over her chest and rolled
her neck, loosening the weary muscles.  Out of habit, she glanced at the
machines again.  The SWAT Kat had made his decision about whether it was
worth it or not.  She briefly wondered what T-Bone's reaction would be.

******************************************************************************

    The crowd had surrounded the battered stone steps of Megakat City
Hall.  Despite the size of the gathered throng, an impermeable blanket
of stunned silence had engulfed it.  For nearly a minute after Callie's
announcement, there was soundlessness.
    Callie stood at the podium, her paws vising the edge.  Only Felina
noticed Callie's knuckles were turning white from her grip. Callie held
her head proudly as tears streamed down her face.  Her jaw remained shut
tightly, afraid of the sob that might escape should she open it.  Her
grief was not fake.  She was a talker, a politician.  She was not an
actress.  This was just a part of what she had pent up inside to deal
with later. Callie allowed herself a quick glance to her side.  Felina's
head was respectfully bowed, eyes studying the minute cracks in the drab
stairs.  The rest of her body was at complete attention.  Her ears were
forward listening intently, searching the silence for a sound.  Any
sound.  Callie wondered what her secret was, how she remained so
composed.
    The Enforcer looked up momentarily and met Callie's blurry green
eyes.  She stared with complete empathy at the shekat, her steel eyes
softened to a deep charcoal.  Callie watched as her eyes narrowed for a
moment, as if remembering something, then widened suddenly.  Her eyes
grew troubled and they darted back down to scrutinize the cracks.
    Callie sighed inwardly.  Her part of the plan was done.  She had
lied.  She had told the city that Razor was dead, and the crowd had
believed every word of it.  The silence was suffocating.
    Felina had been contemplating the look she had seen in Callie's
eyes.  The angle of the sun and how it had glinted off her irises had
been reminiscent of something she hadn't necessarily wanted to remember. 
Callie had looked at her, her eyes full of remorse.  It wasn't sadness
for herself, but for another, that had been so disturbing to Felina. 
She had briefly seen, superimposed over Callie's green eyes, a pair of
chestnut eyes, shielded by a thin layer of mesh and a black mask.  For a
moment, Felina was not standing on the front steps of City Hall.  She
was inside the building again, standing on landing of the fifteenth
floor.  Details about the fight that she had not noticed before came
back to her.  The glovatrix Razor had been wearing didn't fit right. Had
he hurt his paw in the fight?  He had literally tossed Callie to her. 
Felina's brow furrowed, and her eyes began to tear.  In that move, he
realized he had probably sentenced himself to death.  It was mirrored in
his eyes; they had been full of remorse as well.  Yet, it wasn't for
himself that he was sorry.  For the first time in her life, she asked
herself a question she thought she would never have asked.  Why did
Razor have to stay?  Why couldn't it have been her ...   A small sound
from the crowd interrupted her thoughts.
    It had escaped from the throat of a lean, middle-aged hekat near the
front of the crowd.  Most eyes had turned to see who had interrupted the
silence.  He leaned abruptly against one of the granite pillars of City
Hall to help support his weight.  His yellow eyes danced over the
features of the Deputy Mayor, searching, pleading, that what she had
said was not the truth.  His jaw hung open, showing one chipped canine
tooth.  A charcoal paw ran through his mussed hair as he loosened his
tie.  His brow furrowed, and his face clenched before he grabbed at his
temples with his thumb and forefinger.  The paw was shaking as it worked
its way down his face to massage the bridge of his nose.  His jaw
quivered emotionally.  He tried to say something, but it only resulted
in an inarticulate grunt.  He leaned his back against the pillar and
slid into a sitting position, burying his face in his paws.
    Heads turned as another sound was heard.  The body of an old shekat
quivered as she wrapped her ragged clothing around her, hugging herself
in a futile gesture.  Her white hair was unkempt and dirt was encrusted
in the multitude of furry wrinkles in her withered face.  Her long,
paper-thin skirt did little to cover her sole-less sandals.  She
teetered, and a teenager helped her into a seated position.
    Another sound was heard across the crowd; then another, and another. 
Felina's ears moved toward each sound until was impossible to
distinguish individuals.  A collective sobbing had settled over the
group.
    A deeper emptiness overwhelmed Callie at the sight of the effect the
"death" of a SWAT Kat had on the crowd.  She covered her mouth with her
paw and stepped away from the mic.  Felina stepped into her place and
finished the announcement.
    Felina knew she could not afford anything less than a simple, to the
point, and direct statement.  She had carefully avoided watching the
scene before her, afraid of her own emotions that were hidden behind her
stone features.  "A vigil will be held tonight at dusk in front of City
Hall," she stated, her voice strong and purposeful.  She began to walk
away before hesitating and turning back to the podium, she said, "Please
pass the word."
    Felina turned on her heels and followed Callie back up the stairs. 
She felt more than heard her boots echoing loudly off the granite as she
disappeared behind the doors into the empty foyer of City Hall.  Once
safely inside the doors, she allowed herself a haphazard grin.  "Part
one is done, at least," she sighed, running a paw through her bangs. "To
the general public, Razor is dead."
    Callie's paw searched through her hairline to find the small scar on
her forehead. She began rubbing at it.  "Yeah, to the general public, he
is.  So why don't I feel any better about this?"
    "Perhaps because you just intentionally misled all your
constituents?"  The booming voice echoed painfully off the granite floor
and hardwood walls.  Both shekats spun on their heels to see a huge form
hidden in the shadows of a second-floor overhang.  In one move, Felina
drew her gun and aimed it at the shadow while simultaneously pushing
Callie to the ground behind her.  "Stay down, Deputy Mayor!"  Callie
stayed perfectly still, yet Felina pushed at her again, throwing her arm
down against Callie.
    "The heck ..." Callie let escape before she found the odd-looking
pager Felina had thrust into her paw.
    The targeting laser on Felina's weapon only served to annoy the
figure as he moved out of the shadows.  His laughter filled the tall
ceilings of the foyer.  Felina set her jaw and followed the motions of
the large kat as he traveled down the stairs.  Felina's eyes widened in
rage as her lips curled back to reveal her canine teeth.  Her gray eyes
grew hard and glaring as she tightened the grip on the trigger.  "Dark
Kat," she spat forcefully, tension controlling every muscle in her body.
    At the sound of Dark Kat's name, Callie rolled on her side, her back
to him.  Dark Kat's eyes sparkled at the sight of what he saw as a
futile defensive gesture.  Callie pulled the pager to herself and
activated it.
    "You must be pretty darn stupid to try something so soon," Felina
hissed.
    "It seems to be working, doesn't it Lieutenant?  It really is the
perfect time, you weren't expecting it."  Dark Kat's voice was calm and
collected, but his eyes vaguely covered the workings of a sick mind. "I
would put that toy away right now if you know what is good for you."  He
gestured to Felina's weapon and then to the balcony of the overhang. 
Felina spared a glance at the balcony to find Creeplings lined up on the
railing.
    Felina returned her scowl to Dark Kat and mentally calculated the
odds.  "Okay, 42 lined up on the railing, Dark Kat in front of you. 
Half a clip in the sidearm, plus full clips in the pistols hidden in
each boot."  She didn't allow the smile to creep to her face as she
mentally thanked herself for stealing the idea of an ankle holster from
"The X-Files".  "43 to one isn't exactly fair odds, Dark Kat," she
raised her voice to be heard over the sudden din of the crowd outside
the doors.  A part of her mind wondered why the crowd had suddenly grown
so animated.  Behind her, the doors of City Hall were made of one-way
mirrors, and they certainly could not see what was happening inside.
    "When have you ever known me to be fair, Lieutenant?  Then again, I
really should thank you for saving my life back at the airport."  A
toothy grin oozed across his face.  "I wouldn't be here right now if it
wasn't for you."
    Felina's body tensed.  Her feet were a little more than
shoulder-length apart in a steady stance.  Both of her paws gripped her
weapon as she felt her concealed pistols heavy against the side of her
calves.  Even with her three guns, that many creeplings would turn her
into pulp.  The adrenaline rushed through her system as she traded
half-witted barbs with Dark Kat.  Anything to keep him talking while she
tried to figure a way out of this mess with her head and most of her fur
intact.  The crowd suddenly grew quiet again behind her and allowed her
ears to keen in on the slightest sound: the creeplings' quiet chirping,
Dark Kat's deep breathing,  and the elevator dinging as it reached the
first floor.
   Wait a second, the elevator?
    Dark Kat's head turned as the elevator doors opened, giving Felina
the distraction she needed.    In less than a second, both her sidearm
and one of her concealed weapons were in each paw, the other in
Callie's.  "GET OUT OF HERE, DEPUTY MAYOR!" she screamed over the sound
of laser discharge.
    Felina had seven of the Creeplings down before Dark Kat realized
what was going on.
    "NO!" he screeched, his face contorted.  "CREEPLINGS!  GET HER!"
    She watched as the 35 remaining creeplings and Dark Kat raced
towards her.  She set her jaw and continued firing, intent on getting as
many as she could before they reached her.  She was a Feral, and she was
going to go down fighting.  She backed up, only to step on and nearly
trip over Callie, who had yet to move.  Callie's smile lit up her face
as she gazed at where the creeplings used to be.
    Felina had not seen T-Bone enter the fray, she was just subtly aware
that Dark Kat had suddenly been eliminated.  Then more Creeplings
disappeared from the air around her, leaving only five for her to fend
off.  These were dispatched easily as she shot one, side kicked one into
another, knocked another unconscious with a back fist, and just booted
the other one across the lobby, hearing it hit the wall with a
satisfying squish.
    She looked up just in time to see T-Bone standing over Dark Kat. 
His jaw was clenched, scowling eyes blazed with a scarcely contained
fury.  His knuckles were a glaring white as his clenched fist pounded
repeatedly into Dark Kat's face.  Felina cocked her head casually as she
watched the blood pour from the healing broken nose of Dark Kat.  Dark
Kat's body was limp as T-Bone pinned his weight on one knee in the
center of his chest.  The SWAT Kat's face was drawn into a scowl as he
landed his final punch, gashing the purple cheek. He stood purposefully,
and stepped back.  Aiming his Glovatrix, he shot a bola missile to tie
the prisoner, then another, and another.  He grunted when he finished. 
"He's not going anywhere this time."  He looked up at Felina holding two
smoking laser guns in her paws, and Callie, holding hers awkwardly in
one paw, the Kat Pager in the other.  He smirked at the two shekats.  "I
figured you wouldn't mind the assist," he said as he wiped Dark Kat's
blood off his paw and adjusted his mask over his eyes.
    A smile spread across Felina's face.  "Nope, sure didn't."
   "Miss Briggs set off the Kat Pager.  I heard just about the whole
thing on my way over here," he added.
    Felina nodded and holstered her weapons.  Simultaneously, she
grabbed her communicator from a small pocket on her belt.  "I'll call HQ
and let them know we have this butthead," she said, gesturing to the
unconscious Dark Kat.  "We still have a lot of work to do before the
..." she barely paused in the middle of her sentence and let her eyes
glance over at T-Bone, "event tonight."
   T-Bone nodded, his eyes suddenly concentrating on the granite
underneath his feet.  "I'll be there when I'm supposed to be, don't
worry.  I have some preparations yet to make, so if you ladies will
excuse me, I have a jet to refuel."  T-Bone acknowledged them politely
with a bow of his masked head, and slipped into the elevator to the
roof.
    Felina watched his broad retreating back with a slight furrowing of
her brows.
    "Lieutenant?"
    Felina turned to face Callie, her paws on her hips, her eyes still
concentrating on where T-Bone had receded into the darkness of the
elevator.  "Yes, Deputy Mayor?"
    The voice that answered Felina was quiet and thoughtful.  "Did you
see his eyes?"
    Felina ran a paw through her short hair, then returned it to her
hip.  She broke her gaze on the shadows and met Callie's glinting
emerald eyes and concerned furrowed brow.  "Yeah, I did," she sighed,
hanging her head.
    "I just had a troubling thought."
    "I think I had the same one."
    "Felina, if Razor doesn't wake up ..."
    "I know, Callie, I know.  I don't know what T-Bone's going to do,
either."
******************************************************************************
    Okay, Ladies and Gents, that's it for this installment.  I hope you
enjoyed it, and, as always, questions/comments/concerns/reactions/flames
to Penguinchk@aol.com