Chapter 110: Thundercats! HO!

Outside the small compound, four unlikely companions stand ready to venture into the dense, shadow-filled woods, prepared to face off with whatever is threatening their village.

The night is thick with darkness. Clouds have rolled in, attempting to blot out the sparse moonlight. The settlement's scant torchlight is suddenly unable to penetrate the night. Together, the four begin to scour the area, on alert for any signs of the intruder.

The soft rustling of grasses and the gentle whisper of leaves swaying in the gentle night breeze mix with the nighttime chorus of chirping crickets and buzzing insects.

Suddenly, the atmosphere shifts dramatically as the breeze suddenly dies down, and the hum of insects falls silent. An eerie stillness blankets the area. The silence is so profound that their breathing seems to echo in the night.

WilyKit's nostrils flared as he took a deep breath, hoping to catch the scent of their elusive quarry. His heightened vision transformed the nighttime landscape into shades of gray and white. The few silvery beams illuminated the area, allowing him to see each blade of grass shimmering in the wind and the gnarled branches of trees resembling ghostly fingers reaching into the night.

Peering into the distance, WilyKat strained the limit of his eyes. "I can't see anything," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper as he nodded down the darkened path that led away from the settlement.

"All I see is the dark," Tollbooth replied, squinting and shifting uneasily.

"There's nothing out there," Big Boa remarked, his deep and resonant voice echoing faintly through the helmet's speaker as he scanned the area.

WilyKat looked at him, eyebrow raised in question.

"Night Vision in the visor," Big Boa added.

Wildcat points down the road, "Hey guys, what's that?"

WilyKat turns to look. Suddenly, his sharp eyes catch a flicker of movement in the underbrush. Before he could react, a rush of movement crashed into him, sending him flying through the air.

"What the hell was that?" Big Boa shouted. The words barely leave his mouth when a powerful unseen force throws him to the ground, the impact knocking the air out of his lungs.

A gust of almost tangible wind ruffled Toll Booth's beard, catching him off guard, "Where the hell is it?"

As Wildcat and Toll Booth stand back to back, adrenaline coursing through their bodies, they scrutinize the darkness. Their hearts pound against their chests like bass drums.

Big Boa groans as he rolls to his hands and knees, "Mother..."

The word never leaves his mouth as something smashes into his helmet, cracking the visor and knocking him back to the ground. His tongue licks at something metallic tasting on his lip.

Wildcat looked down the road as three silhouettes appeared. "Son of a bitch. We were set up," he growls.

"What's happening?" Tollbooth asks before screaming in pain.

Wildcat spins to see crimson well up from four vicious slices across Tollbooth's chest.

Through gritted teeth, Tollboth offered, "I'm okay." Blood trickles between the fingers of his hand pressed hard to his chest.

Twenty feet away, WilyKat struggles to regain his footing. If they could see his face, they would see unbridled anger etched into every feature. His brow knitted tightly together, pulling downward, as he bared his sharp, fierce teeth in a menacing snarl. A deep guttural growl rumbled in his throat.

His hand searches for the Sword of Omens in the dry grass. As his fingers wrap tightly around the cool steel handle, a rush of magic surges through him. The Eye of Thundera, set into the sword guard, flickers to life, casting a muted crimson glow that bathes the area in an eerie light. A sudden warning flashes through WilyKat's mind. Guided by the ancient power of the Sword, he extends the Sword outward, keeping the blade parallel to the ground, hovering just inches above the surface.

A second later, a streak of motion flashes by. It bellows a fierce, feral scream before crashing into the ground, sending puffs of dust and dirt flying. The creature lay crumpled, motionless, in a heap.

WilyKat cautiously rises to his feet, his muscles tensing and his eyes narrowing as he scans the dark underbrush and towering trees for further threats. He keeps the figure lying on the ground firmly in his line of sight, refusing to let his guard down. The weight of the Sword offers calming reassurance.

"Check on Boa," WilyKat commands, "I'll deal with this." Anger hisses in his voice.

Each cautious step WilyKat takes is met with angry snarling and growling. Before him lies a creature cloaked in striking orange fur covered in black spots that ripple across its muscular form. Its clawed hands grasp at its feet in an attempt to staunch the bleeding caused by its collision with the Sword. Fiery strands of wild red hair cascade around its face, creating a chaotic mask that obscures most of its features. Amidst the tangle, two piercing, deep forest green eyes peer through the unruly locks. The unmistakable message of simmering rage fills the space between WilyKat and the injured newcomer.

Behind him, Wildcat and Tollbooth quickly move to attend to Big Boa, helping him to his feet. He is unsteady, but only for a moment. He takes an enraged step toward the fallen foe when Wildcat grabs his arm, pointing toward a shadow at the edge of the woodline.

"Bring it on," Boa snarls as he flexes his massive fists. Wildcat mirrors Boa's stance, bringing his fists up, his muscles rippling like coiled springs. Meanwhile, Tollbooth tightens his grip on his trusty sledgehammer. Their eyes are locked on the intruders.

WilyKat stops feet away from the wounded assailant. The blade of the Sword glints under its power, and he points it toward the figure. They recoil with a sharp hiss, spittle flying through the air. WilyKat presses on, "Who are you?"

He keeps the Sword leveled at the intruder, "You will answer," he demands.

The creature on the ground hissed and spat in defiance. Still, they answered, "Cheetah."

"Cheetah?" WilyKat takes a step back, focusing on the figure on the ground: yellow-orange fur, dark spots spattered on the lean, muscular body, a tail flicking angrily on the ground, golden eyes - the eyes of a cat, and a mane of thick red hair.

"Shit!" the urgency in Tollbooth's voice drags WilyKat from his thoughts.

WilyKat looks toward Tollbooth, crimson rivulets staining his shredded shirt. He sees Tollbooth's grip on the heavy sledgehammer tighten, his knuckles turning white. Big Boa stands ready, his fists raised, his muscles coiled and tense. Wildcat stands a few feet away, his back turned to the pair, eyes locked on an approaching threat.

Three more creatures emerged from the shadows, advancing from different directions. WilyKat caught their eye-shine and saw patches of fur covering each of them.

WilyKat turns back to find Cheetah in a crouch, her wounds fully healed. A fierce snarl overtakes her face, and her teeth and claws glint in the sparse moonlight.

"Shit," WilyKat mutters under his breath.

"I'm going to enjoy tearing you apart, piece by piece," Cheetah growls. She takes a threatening step toward WilyKat.

Without warning, the Eye of Thundera bursts to life, its ghostly beacon cast on the deep azure of the cold sky, seemingly of its own accord. As if summoned from the depths of time, the ancient magic pulses with primordial power. It awakens a long-dormant instinctual force within their souls.

Instantly, the screams of the approaching outsiders pierce the night, followed by the cries of Cheetah, Wildcat, and finally WilyKat.

The six figures stand immobile, frozen in place. Time pauses as each is caught in a haze of reverberating energy.

Six pairs of eyes, wide with awe and torment, turn to one another, ablaze with an ever-changing light. Their pupils are swallowed by an otherworldly power as they become vessels for ancient energies. Flashes of red, yellow, white, and blue shine into the night, lighting the field in a kaleidoscopic multitude of colors.

Amidst the swirling magic, a thick fog of apprehension and awe envelops each soul of those captured within. The crackling energy dances around, binding them to an infinite and ephemeral experience. It distorts the space between reality and the mystical as the most profound powers of the Sword awaken around them.

For what feels like both an eternity and a fleeting heartbeat, their innermost memories, fears, dreams, and hopes collide in a chaotic storm. Each of them is swept into a whirlwind of consciousness as they perceive the essence of one another.

They are more than mere spectators as their lives unravel before them. Each takes on the identity of the others as time and space pass between them.

Identities that were once shielded are laid bare, raw, and exposed under the harsh truth of the Sword. Visions of love lost filter through the swirling currents of nostalgia, painting vivid images of heartache and yearning. Their enemies materialize out of the shadows of recollection, vowing vengeance against their foes.

At that moment, every emotion is amplified, the weight of shared histories and individual struggles attempting to weave a delicate and intricate bond meant to transcend their myriad differences. They find themselves forced into a deeper understanding of each other.

Within this shared experience, the ancient legacy of the Thundercats pulses through them — a vibrant current of magic that flows from the heart of Thundera. In a breathtaking instant, they are thrust into the depths of Thundera's history, witnessing the birth of the first Thundercat and the sacred forging of the legendary Sword of Omens. The creation of the Eye of Thundera unfolds before them.

Haunting images suddenly flooded their minds, depicting the gut-wrenching destruction of Thundera.

They bear the burden of tending to the Thundercats' needs after they escape to Earth, compounded by their subsequent loss to foreign viruses that ravaged their ranks.

They play reluctant spectators to the event that torments WilyKat's every waking moment, the merciless murder of the Lord of the Thundercats at the hands of the vile Mumm-Ra. The moment that thrust WilyKat into being the next in line. They are forced to understand and acknowledge the responsibility and obligation the Sword is thrusting upon them.

They see the innumerable outcomes that may come to pass should Mumm-Ra come to Earth.

The visions, haunting and vivid, abruptly ceased.

Their limp bodies thudded heavily to the ground.

Tollbooth and Big Boa race to the sides of WilyKat and Wildcat.

"What the hell was that?" Boa asks, his voice strained as he removes his helmet, swallowing back a surge of uncertainty and fear. His eyes fell on the crumpled form of Wildcat, who lay motionless on the cool ground.

"I don't know," Tollbooth replied, his heart pounding as he dropped to his knees beside WilyKat. A wave of relief washed over him as he saw the steady rise and fall of WilyKat's chest.

"What should we do, boss?" Boa's voice was barely above a whisper.

"I don't know," Tollbooth admits, his mind racing with possibilities. Suddenly, a faint noise, a distant echo riding the breeze, sent a chill down his spine.

He glanced up at Boa, whose face mirrored the same look of alarm crawling across his own. The noise seemed to be growing closer, a gnawing reminder that the evening's chaos had undoubtedly seized the attention of more undead, eager for their macabre feast.

As he looked around, the sight of the corpses of the slain ghouls scattered across the ground reminded him of the terror they had barely escaped.

Finally, Tollbooth steals his nerves and responds, "We can't leave them here."

Tollbooth gently picks up WilyKat. Big Boa follows his lead and picks up Wildcat. They quickly bring them to the gate, calling for others to help carry the rest in.

_______________

Far from the settlement WilyKat and Wildcat had worked so hard to protect, they, along with Puma, Feral, Tygra, and a disgruntled Cheetah, gathered around a crackling fire, its radiant flames dancing and casting a flickering amber glow over their weary faces. The fire's tendrils of smoke spiraled upward, curling gracefully into the crisp night air as it continued its long trek to the stars. As the temperature dropped, an icy chill settled in, ruffling the fur of WilyKat, Puma, Feral, Tygra, and even the irritated Cheetah, who huddled closer to the warmth offered by the blaze.

Their anxiety is evidenced by an oppressive silence, broken only by the sporadic popping of burning wood and the soft trilling of nocturnal insects.

To an onlooker, the evening might have seemed beautiful and serene. Still, the tension among the group lay heavy on their souls. It was not just the weight of their recent harrowing incident but also the unspoken questions and doubts that now festered between them, choking the air.

The experience thrust upon them by the Sword of Omens had left each of them shaken. Memories that were not their own clawed at their minds; pain, both physical and mental, agony and sorrow, lives lived in brief flashes, love lost, and the most profound recollections split open and spilled for strangers.

Upon regaining consciousness, clarity returned quickly, but the world around them felt surreal. They woke to find villagers gently moving their limp bodies into the sanctuary offered by the town's humble walls.

Despite Tollbooth and Big Boa's sincere protests, they left the haven behind.

The threat of another attack by an undead horde never materialized, offering relief to the village's weary denizens.

As they ventured back into the unforgiving wastes, the reluctant group attempted to part ways, each trying to return to where they came from. Only to find doing so impossible.

The magnetic pull of the Sword was too much, a persistent thrumming of energy scratching at the edges of their minds, relentless and demanding. The Eye embedded in the hilt seemed to watch them with an unnerving sentience, its ancient power far too compelling to dismiss.

The otherworldly weapon continued to delve into their minds and hearts, winding through their emotions like a silken thread, forcing them to come together with a bond that felt simultaneously intimate and intrusive.

For WilyKat, the entire experience had been a profound upheaval, shaking the very foundations of his beliefs.

The Elders of Thundera had instilled in all the young ones the conviction that the Sword of Omens was a beacon, a luminous symbol of hope and righteousness, and of all that was good in the universe. He had borne witness to Lion-O wielding the power of the Sword to save countless lives. He had listened with rapt attention as Jaga recounted age-old tales of the Sword's abilities.

However, WilyKat was left grappling with unsettling doubts about what he had been raised to believe.

Did the Elders truly understand the Sword's capabilities?

Had it manipulated Lion-O and those before him in a similar way?

Was this immense power the very reason Mumm-Ra yearned for the Sword?

Never before had WilyKat experienced such invasive magic emanating from it.

The fire crackled on, but the warmth of its glow seemed unable to penetrate the chill of uncertainty that wrapped around them all.

WilyKat broke the silence, "I'm WilyKat, Lord of the Thundercats."

"We know. We all know," hissed Cheetah.

WilyKat looked at her, similar to his Cheetara in abilities and somehow diametrically opposite in personality. His gaze softened at the thought of his old friend. "I know each of you. In ways, I'd rather not. Yet, we have spoken barely a word. Don't you think it's time we introduced ourselves?"

The words hung in the air. No one responded.

WilyKat's shoulders slumped.

"Folks, call me Wildcat."

"Tygra," the tiger-striped woman offered.

"Feral."

"Humph. I am Puma, Protector of the Kisani, CEO of Fireheart Enterprises..." he proclaimed, his tone lofty as he attempted to intimidate the others.

Cheetah cut him off abruptly, her voice razor-sharp, "Assassin! You can portray yourself as high and mighty all you want, but you're nothing but a hired killer."

Puma was on his feet instantly, claws extended, his face twisted in outrage, "How dare you!"

Cheetah stood her ground, meeting his ferocity with her own, her muscles taut, ready to pounce.

As tension filled the air, the Sword of Omens, resting on WilyKat's lap, began to pulse a fierce red glow, casting a vibrant light that illuminated the faces of those gathered.

Images surged through their minds, a chaotic torrent of haunting visions depicting a future fraught with despair: widespread destruction, unrelenting death, and the all-consuming presence of Mumm-Ra.

As these nightmarish visions cascaded over them like a dark wave, each image that flickered before their eyes was more horrific than the last. They witnessed various gruesome scenarios, each portraying the many ways they might meet their fates if they failed to unite. Some envisioned themselves battling fierce monsters, only to fall under the onslaught. Others saw themselves torn apart, piece by piece, by the skeletal hands of snarling ghouls.

Amidst the chaos, one image loomed larger than the rest: Mumm-Ra himself, a sinister figure exuding an aura of malevolence, standing atop a hill of ruins. He commanded legions of undead soldiers—wretched corpses animated by dark sorcery.

Each vision drew them deeper into a chilling reality where Mumm-Ra unleashed his relentless mutant and undead armies across the Earth, rendering the planet nearly uninhabitable.

In this bleak landscape, the few survivors left in this nightmare were mere specters of their former selves; enslaved, stripped of freedom, twisted and broken, they toiled in the wastes under the relentless specter of Mumm-Ra's tyranny. Hope was a legend, bruised beneath the crushing weight of despair and oppression.

All that remained was a hellish realm teeming with mutants, each more horrible than the last, where the remnants of humanity languished in fear, kept in grim order by a never-ending mindless zombie army under Mumm-Ra's iron-fisted rule,

The Sword relinquished its grasp, its ancient power pulling back. Leaving them trembling on their knees.

As the last remnants of the Sword's dazzling magic dissipated, glowing eyes turned toward WilyKat, each holding accusations and questions for which WilyKat had no answer.

A heavy burden settled deep within WilyKat's soul. He had never sought nor desired the mantle of leadership; it had been thrust upon him by circumstances beyond his control.

Now, before this assembled crowd of strangers who had come not for him but for the allure of the Sword's magic, he felt the future depended on whatever came next.

WilyKat watched as each person's eyes reverted to their natural state.

Finally, he spoke, "You see what's coming. Your world is barely hanging on. The undead are a constant threat. Under Mumm-Ra, they will find a leader; he will organize and control them. His mutants will destroy anything he deems unworthy. We have no choice if humanity," he pauses. No, if your planet is to survive, we must stop Mumm-Ra from amassing power."