ThunderCats

Bio-Booster Armor Guyver

Eye of the Storm

End of Year One.

Lion-O ignored the colored light cast upon the floor of the Royal Hall by the rising sun as he sat on his throne. Many things weighed on his mind as the Winter solstice dawned, and most were troublesome. The hunt for Grune was at a standstill with no information coming in from the tribes of friendly locals. Jagara, who had taken up residence in Cat's Lair as Court Sorceress, kept replying that she could offer no assistance and that certain events had to take place first. She almost never emerged from her chambers, but was always willing to give advice to any who sought it. It was at Jaga's insistence that he allowed such a thing, yet his patience was wearing thin. All she would say was that she served a far greater good than he could imagine, which Jaga parotted.

He shook himself out of his oncoming funk as Tygra entered the Hall. King for not quite a year, he thought, and we're thriving. I guess SOME things are on track. Tygra bowed at the waist, right arm over his chest in the traditional salute.

"Busy day, so let's get on with it," Lion-O semi-groused.

"My report," Tygra began, "should brighten your mood some. Our school program is well ahead of schedule. I plan to speak to two candidates today. They were rescued from the Vertis a month ago. Myrlha is also willing to render assistance."

"Good, good," Lion-O said without yawning. It WAS rather early. "But, what about schoolbooks?"

"That will take some time, I'm afraid. However, other ThunderCats have volunteered to contribute their knowledge, as has Sho."

"Who are these two you've selected?"

"Their names are Etain and Avril. The latter was a teacher's assistant on Thundera, and such skills are scarce in the Colony."

The bolts of fabrics set in the niches of the walls set their eyes goggling as Etain and Avril entered the store named simply "The Loom". Each surface was fastidiously neat, without a speck of dust to be seen despite them being the only customers. Potential customers, Etain reminded herself half-heartedly.

"Welcome," the blue-robed man behind the counter said with a gentle smile. "My name is Fahd." There was no need to ask, in a colony of this size, if they had been rescued from the Vertis.

"Etain."

"Avril." Etain nearly laughed as Avril's eyes locked on a bolt of shimmering fabric whose color was scarlet bordering on sinful. Fahd noticed it at once.

"That's called silk," he said, easing around the counter with graceful steps. "And, it's quite popular. That bolt is the last we have, I'm afraid."

"Where did you get it?" Avril asked, her eyes transfixed. "It's so lovely."

"A merchant wandered into the Colony some time ago with wares to sell, and the name of a town where we could find more. Tryphon and I plan to go in the Spring. It'll mean closing the shop for awhile, but we can weather the loss."

"What is this used for?" Avril asked, running the fabric between her fingers.

"Undergarments for ladies, mostly. Racy ones, from the patterns I've had to sew lately." Etain chortled as the fabric fell from between her fingers. "We deal in tapestries, mostly, but that's Try's thing. I handle the clothing requests."

"R-racy?" Avril squeaked. Visions of skimpy panties and bras danced in her head, among other sexually charged images, before her face flushed and she thrust the bolt back in it storage space. "PUT IT BACK!"

"We'll take some," Etain said as she pulled it back out. Avril was aghast at her boldness.

"I take it I'll be sewing these in Avril's size?" Fahd said more than asked, sizing her up. "36-24-25. I have enough on-hand for that."

"How much?" Etain asked before Avril could protest. "How did you know, anyway?"

"I've done this for a while, now. Sewing is easy work, and I'm good at it." Fahd nodded before taking the bolt of silk out and cutting off the appropriate lenghts.

"YOU DON'T HAVE TO..." was all Avril got out before the door on the upper balcony slammed open to reveal a small WildCat.

"SHUT IT UP!" he bellowed.

"Just making a sale, Try," Fahd replied.

"Then keep it QUIET!" He stormed back into the rear room.

"I apologize," Fahd said, "Ever since he got commissioned to do a tapestry of our new Vanguard, he's been on edge."

"I wonder who wears the pants in THIS relationship," Etain muttered.

"I have enough for two sets of undergrments," Fahd said as if he hadn't heard. "Will that be enough?"

"Perfect," Etain said, dragging Avril away before she could protest.

"We have a bumper crop this year," Torr said.

"Oh?"

"Crop yeilds are about ten percent above predictions," Torr said. "Hunting is a bit down, but nothing to get in a twist over. The fishing expedition to the West Coast was insane! Fish were begging to be caught, I tell ya!"

"More on that?"

"Wel, M'lord, I'm not an expert on marine harvesting, but there's plenty out there. Sho was right on that score."

"Another colony," Lion-O mused.

"I don't know about all that, Highness, but I think I can set up a small fishing fleet. It'll take time to build the boats and set up distribution, though."

"We need those resources. Torr, you'll oversee overall food development. You'll stay here and report to me directly."

"Of course, Highness."

"You don't have to act so nonchalant."

"Well, highness, I've had word from my better half. Let's say, it was high time I became a family man."

"Congratualtions, Torr!"

"Who's Mommy's little man? Why, it's YOU! Yes, it is! Yes, it IS!" Pumyra didn't mind sounding like an idiot as she held Darin above her head. Her son laughed, as if to say "Silly Mommy" as she raised him up and down. Pumyra laid on the couch, bouncing her son up on her lower legs. "Catapault, WHEE!" she would exclaim as her lower legs hoisted Darin in the air. "Catapault, WHEE!" Another launch skyward for her baby. Darin laughed hysterically as Pumyra brought him down on her chest.

I wonder, she thought, if Mom had this much fun with me when I was as cub. Darin's head rested above her breasts, her son laughing and grasping with his pudgy hands. She looked into his eyes, and love burst in her heart. This was her child, her genetic contribution to the future. But, most of all, her little boy. Despite herself, Pumyra recalled the nightmare future Sho had been pushed into, of the version of her son he'd encountered.

Never, she thought.

"Don't have too much fun," Bengali said as he stepped into view and took a seat at the unocccupied end of the sofa. His hand traced up her right leg as she cradled Darin.

"Don't you have an appointment with King Lion-O?"

"Nah. Nothing much has come through the Forge lately. Sho and I have hammered out the plates for the ThunderCycles. I don't have much to do right now. What about you?"

"Siberias is handling our part of the..." Her words stopped as Bengali scooped Darin into his own arms. The cub reached up at his mane.

"Say 'Daddy'?"

"He's still too young for that," Pumyra said with a grin as she sat up. "At least he sleeps through the night now." Which was no small relief for either of them, not to mention Snarf. "BENGALI!" she cried out in mock outrage as the tips of his fingers traced up the insides of one thigh.

"What?"

"Let me put Darin down for his nap," she said, "then I'll come back."

"And then?"

"I'll give you exactly ninety minutes to stop doing that." Pumyra rose from the couch, smiling all the while. A day off never hurt, as Siberias once said to her as an intern so long ago.

"I see," Siberias said. Cheetara sat across from him, her face showing that she knew what he was about to say. All the better.

"How long?" she asked.

"Less than a month," he replied.

"I was careful," she said.

"I'm sure."

"Siberias, please report to the Royal Hall," the disembodied voice said over the comm.

"Your G-cell report?" Lion-O asked. He reclined upon the throne as much as he was able as Siberias approached.

"At this point, no news is good news."

"What?"

"We are still trying to learn the basics of the Bio-Booster Armor," Siberias explained.
"Remember, this is a life-form we have never encountered before. Between Pumyra and I, we're stumped."

"I know that feeling," Lion-O said. Tygra stood to his right. "What progress have you made?"

"Well," Siberias began, "We are ready to begin testing on tiny cultures of G-Cells, just to see how they work." And if the computer models mean anthing, he didn't add. "I will not lie, Highness, if I had promised results within such a brief time I would have to have been either catastrophically incompetent or dangerously insane." He immediately regretted the slightly acerbic tone in his voice, but Siberias was defensive when it came to the Scientific Method. Lion-O, however, appeared to take no note of it.

"I'm not criticizing you. I admit, I'm not the scientific type, and I'd hardly question yours or Pumyra's judgment on matters of biology." It was a magnanimous, even sincere, soothing of his temper, Siberias noticed. Lion-O did not play politics all that well. Perhaps that wasn't a bad thing.

Cheetara will give you a rather personal lesson on biology, I think, he didn't say with a smile he didn't show. Instead: "Pumyra and I both look forward to positive results."

"As do we all," Lion-O said.

Tygra watched as Siberias took his leave. One of the three people who knew the real reason behind Lion-O's aging while in stasis. What were his thoughts on the matter? Did he find it a mere scientific curiosity, or was he so wrapped up in his current research to bother thinking about it at all?

"Field coefficient twelve to the eighty-seventh," Panthro muttered as he looked over the formulae for the FTL field again. "Spatial distortion is..." The door to the Depot slid open. Panthro turned in his chair, thankful for the change in scenery which was plotting to turn the minor throb in his head into a major thumper, to see Mandora on the other side. She was dressed in a simple lavender one-piece which hugged her curves fom shoulders to toes. Her blonde hair was done up in her usual ponytail. For the first time, Panthro noticed the top half of her face and the cornflower blue eyes which seemed utterly and uncharacteristically lost. She was a far cry from the tough and confident woman he had come to know. She walked in without preamble, though with none of her former self-assuredness in evidence.

"Am I disturbing you?" she asked. "Sorry, but I got lost."

"Not at all." Panthro would never admit that the physics involved in his studies were kicking his ass at present. She moved litlessly toward a clear spot on the bench before his worktable and sat, or more like fell, down on it. Seres Mandora had been like this ever since having regained consciousness. It was heartbreaking to see her in her current state, but he was at a loss as to what to tell her. The touchy-feely stuff was never Panthro's realm. Silence stretched between them.

"I could use a drink." Those five words, coming from her, were like a splash of icy water. In truth, Panthro could never have imagined her being the sort to imbibe, and he highly doubted she was referring to coffee. Caught up in the suddenly surreal moment, Panthro rose and made his way to the massive toolchest which he had liberated from SkyTomb's engineering bay. In the bottom-most drawer was a steel flask containing several ounces of what locals called both moonshine and white lightning. Panthro tended to call it the latter, for it could hit like a bolt from the blue. It wasn't, he knew, approved psychiatric practice but he understood this much about it; the only difference between a barhand and a shrink was that the former could get his clients sloshed. A drunk man tells a sober man's truth. It was an aphorism he knew to be true. Besides, at the bottom of it all, he knew that sometimes a stiff belt was what one really needed. Psychology be damned. He carefully poured two fingers worth into worn metal cups and handed one to her.

"Careful," he managed just before she downed it. For the first time since arriving, Mandora's body became rather active. She beat her chest as the liquor burned down her throat, finally letting out a strangled cry followed by a deep gasp. "It's got some kick," he finished.

"I noticed!" she shouted on getting her breath back. "What IS that stuff?"

"White lightning. More?"

"Please." Panthro poured another two fingers, noting her flushed face. She took the next cup at a sip, shuddering as he sat across from her. "I should be more careful with this." Mandora fell silent again. Panthro waited, nursing his own drink as slowly as possible. "It wasn't supposed to be like this."

"Never is," he said simply. Oh, shit, what do I do now?! he silently shouted. Here she was, seemingly about to let the dam burst, and he was the one who had to deal with the flood. It was a distraction from a form of physics which defied all the physics he'd ever learned, but this was ENTIRELY out of his element!

"My family was murdered," she said bluntly. Panthro's silence, which was stunned, prodded her to go on. "I was away at a friend's home when it happened. They were killed. My mother and sister were raped, my father forced to watch." Panthro resisted the urge to take a drink, despite his own dark memories of such things. "I was five." Panthro took a sip. "I found the gory details when I joined CONTROL.

"My father was dirty," she went on after another sip. "Tied into the mafia. He'd been skimming money off the top, why I could only guess but he thought they were good reasons. Good enough to risk our lives," she spat. "My sister was only fourteen." Despite the heat from the liquor, Panthro felt a shard of ice stab into his chest. "As a kid bouncing from one home to another, all I knew was that everyone I loved had been taken from me. A recruiter from CONTROL spotted me, and I went right in. Finding out why it had happened, it made me hate crime all the more."

I can understand that, he thought, thinking of good friends long gone. He'd asked himself a thousand times how ANY civilized being could find pleasure in such acts. The answer was as simple as it was repugnant. Some people, regardless of species, were bastards. Bastards who understood only one language, and for whom Standard Operating Procedure should be Seek and Destroy. Panthro reigned his legendary temper in, but barely.

"Lenin took me under his wing." This she said in a slightly wistful tone after another sip. Panthro decided that her second cup would be her last. She needed to remain coherent. "He was the epitome of law enforcement, the man I looked up to the most. He became a second father to me."

"Ouch." It just slipped past his lips, and he made a note not to drink another cup himself. Mandora appeared not to notice, much to his relief.

"Do you have any idea how hard it is for a woman to make it in a man's organization?" she asked. The sexes being by and large equal on Thundera, he didn't. Mandora explained. "Most women go into the secretaries' pool. Put on a pretty face for Miss Pan-Galactic Beauty contest with a skimpy bikini and a shot at a vacation on a resort world." Panthro didn't say that Mandora could have won that easily, especially given how the Thunderian clothes she wore accented her feminine outer charms. "I wanted to fight crime, and I fought tooth and nail to get there." She took another sip. "I forgot how to be a woman." THAT left him stumped, his own cup halting before reaching his mouth. "I swore like a man. I fought like a man. I only wanted to make sure that what happened to MY family might not happen to another."

"I..."

"But, THIS!" she roared. "I got a sniff a year ago. I know how to be careful in CONTROL, how to keep things quiet. I looked up to him, y'know?" she asked after finishing off her cup. To Panthro's gratitude, she didn't ask for another. "How many lives did I help ruin?" she asked. "How many 'Transfers' were really slave runs? It's..." A sob. "All I believed in my whole fucking life was made of BULLSHIT!" The dam broke, and the flood of tears came as the cup clattered on the floor. Panthro moved beside her, cradling her head near his shoulder so she could let it out. Uncomfortable as it was, he'd been there and heard it all before.

Seres Mandora wept, a reaction she'd thought lost, her head against Panthro's shoulder and hot tears of shame and guilt burning out of her eyes. So many years spent fighting her way into criminal investigations, winning the respect of her comrades, bearing the crude jokes about her figure (mostly about her breasts and her rear), all the while holding the ideals of justice (as taught to her from her days as a nugget by Commandant Lenin) as her guiding principle. That, oh yes that, hurt worst of all. More tears came, tears which burned all the hotter for not only the fact that she hadn't shed any in years, but that they came at such a horrible cost. What had she done? She had been, unwittingly, coerced into breaking the laws she had held as The Way Things Should Be, and which she had doggedly, even ruthlessly, enforced. What did that say about her? Seres Mandora's eyes snapped open once Panthro's strong arm encircled her shoulders.

"Let it out," he said in a low voice. "You won't get better until you do." Those words, so simple, set her to bawling again. So, Seres Mandora cried for the first time since her childhood. And was silently grateful that she was able to do so on the shoulder of someone as strong and sure as Panthro.

The sights and smells of the Colony always filled Sho with a sense of pride that, he knew, the others would never understand. He walked toward his favorite food stand (aside from the Bolkin Bar, to which he intended to take Myrlha once the sun went down) in the center of the Central Plaza. Work was already underway on the statue of King Lion-O, whose commission he had reluctantly accepted. Sho was silently grateful that the monument to be in his own honor would be a tapestry. Waking up to a giant stone effigy of himself every morning would have been well past awkward. He passed a pair of women dining at one of the outdoor tables, two he recognized from his adventure on the Vertis. Seeing them adjusting so quicky to life in the Colony bolstered his spirits even more.

He knew he and Myrlha's chances of having a child were slim at best. He had heartily supported her suggestion that she help teach the kittens. It would be good for her, he hoped. It hurt him deeply that their apparent inablility to have a child hurt her as well. Maybe this would ease that somewhat.

"Hey, if it ain't my favortie human!" the boisterous Tyger who ran the stall shouted.

"I'm the only one you know," Sho said, settling into the ritual. "Did you hear about the Simian and the can of juice?" he asked. Swapping jokes had become part of their usual song and dance. "He spent twenty minutes staring at it because 'concentrate' was printed on it." The proprieter, Shiimga, had a tremendous laugh at that.

Avril paused, the garlic bread freezing on its course to her mouth. It. Was. HIM! Shivers started as she recalled him, formerly disguised as a Lion, then turning into what ever the hell that Guyver thing was. Then killing with impunity.

"There ya go! Shiimga said, "One loaf of the usual... Oh, stop it, your money's no good here!"

"Don't give me that," Sho said, part of their dance. "You have a business to run."

"And you have a fine woman." Shimga replied with a wink.

"Who loves your bread."

"And has such good taste! Ah, Myrlha. Such a lovely..."

"I get you," Sho said with a laugh.

"Look at them," Avril said, tearing her bread apart with her fingers.

"Cute, but not my type," Etain said after another chomp of garlic bread. "Wow, this stuff is GREAT!" The transasction concluded, and Sho went on his way with a bag of bread. "You can breathe, now." The tension in the other woman's shoulders didn't disappear until he did. "You don't have to be so frightened of him, dearest."

"I know that," she replied. On asking around concerning their rescuer, Etain had encountered overwhelming positive remarks, as well as a few negative feelings given that he was a human. NOKD: Not Our Kind, Dear. Some even experessed regret that he was spoken for but, given the descriptions of Lady Myrlha, he'd made quite a catch. "My brain does, at least, but... It's his power I'm scared of."

Among the minority who weren't overly fond of the new Vanguard, that had been a primary point. What if they'd been rescued only to be dominated by the very man who'd played such a large part in doing so? Etain thought that view to be wild paranoia. Anyone who'd risk his ass in the depths of space to rescue total strangers who weren't even his species got her stamp of approval.

"Well, this is certainly convenient," Fahd said as he drew up to their table with a plain wrapped parcel in his hands. Avril's eyes locked onto it at once, and any lingering fear was replaced with a furious blush that was equal parts embarrassment at its contents and anticipation of the same. "I thought I'd stop by here on my way to deliver these, and here you are."

"Y-yes..." Avril stammered. "Funny how that works, huh?"

"Oh, Lady Laheela!" he exclaimed as the shapely Tygress stepped toward the table. Avril swallowed with an audible click as they both leapt to their feets and genuflected. Etain barely stifled a chuckle at her lover's embarrassment.

"Used the last of the silk, then?" she asked him with a knowing look that turned Avril's face an alarming shade of crimson.

"Just now, yes. I'm rather proud of these desig..."

"PACKAGENOWTHANKYOUPLEASE!" Avril shouted as she snatched the parcel and held it against her as if it were a shield. Fahd and Laheela both blinked. Etain's grip on the chuckles grew weaker.

"What can we do for you, M'lady?" Etain asked.

"Lord Lion-O bids you to come to Cat's Lair. Please follow me." If it were physically possible, Avril's jaw would have been on the cobblestones beneath their feet. Said piece of her anatomy did make an admirable effort in that direction, with Etain's following suit. "Though," she added, looking over her shoulder at them after turning about, "you might want to leave that with Fahd."

"It'll be waiting for you when you get home, Miss Avril," he said, taking it from her grasp.

"... great thanks..."

It took an effort, but Etain pushed down the giggles before they could explode into gales of laughter.

WilyKat ignored the slight chill in the air as he stood atop one of the trees beyond the edges of the colony, staring out over the newly-built city. Ever since construction had been - for the time being - completed, he had volunteered for every available assignment. The more dangerous it appeared, the better. Danger, however, had been in short supply of late.

He couldn't hide behind being a kitten any longer. He was now a man (what he failed to recognize is that every sixteen every boy thought he was fully a man) and he shared part of the responisbility of safeguarding the colony. Not merely manning the Control Room, or doing menial chores and errands.

The image of Cheetara's beating flared white-hot behind his eyes.

Hanging helpless next to Pumyra as a mostly-headless Sho fought off Ma-Mutt guised as Enzyme. Then most of the Lunattaks. Then Mumm-Ra, to top it all off.

(The third shall rise from the king's own court.)

Those words spoke to him in a way he doubted the others understood.

(The third shall rise from the king's own court.)

Why shouldn't it be him? He told himself over and over how he wanted that power to protect, to defend. Sho, after all, held no real love for Bio-Booster Armor yet he bore its burden.

Burden? he thought. Try BLESSING!

With that kind of power at his command, he would never be helpless again. For the good of all, of course.

It was understood, even expected, that people summoned before their king all of a sudden would have a case of nerves. The Puma, Avril, had the shakes badly enough to make Lion-O feel concerned. They rose from their kneeling position at his insistence (which sounded better in his mind than command ever would) and he flashed his most reassuring smile.

"Thank you for coming," he said, a minor breach of protocol. Kings weren't expected to show gratitude to their subjects, but he wasn't an ordinary monarch.

"We serve Thundera," they replied in unison.

"My Council Head, Tygra, has begun a program to educate the youths of the colony and I understand you have some teaching experience, Miss Avril." From the way she jumped at that, he could have sworn she'd just been goosed.

"I... I have some small experience, but... I was just an assistant, Highness."

"Which makes you better suited to teaching our youths how to read and write than, say, a plumber." Even Lion-O thought laughing at ones own small jokes to be in bad taste, but he noticed the smirk Etain quickly squashed.

"As y-you com-command..."

"This isn't a command," he said, hiding his irritation with improving skill. A year in, and still he chafed at the thought of what he came to call "the bow-n-scrape treatment". The hell of it was that he couldn't command them to act normally around him. The other ThunderCats, yes, but not civillians. Etain's quick smirk, though, made him smile inwardly. "I want you to accept this willingly. Besides, it won't be just the two of you."

"Beg pardon, two of us?" Etain asked.

"I'm told you two are very close." Lion-O didn't understand the ins and outs, so to speak, of being attracted to one's own sex and didn't care one way or the other. "Lady Myrlha will also be rendering assistance, as well as other ThunderCats on a part-time basis. Myrlha, though, will work with you full time." He saw both blanch slightly at that, but the reason he deduced hadn't been entirely correct. "While she works with you, I want you to treat her as any other person. You're the teacher, Avril, you're in charge of the school." That she wouldn't wear her insignia when working was a foregone conclusion. As well as them both accepting, which both did.

Watershed's streets still bustled with commerce, yet the crowds had thinned considerably as summer had given way to fall then into the edges of winter. Many of the stalls were shut down, their tenders having made the treks back to their own towns of residence.

Lisker sat in what had become his favorite chair, over-stuffed just right, before the merrily burning fire in the hearth. A bottle of Benjamin's wonder-beer sat on the table to his right, unopened as he sat lost in thought.

Grune or Gelroz? he asked himself. Both were men who could best serve Third Earth by leaving it. But, who took priority? Gelroz, he knew how to find. Mezzo, during his brief and informative stay in Watershed, had been as honest as Abraham Lincoln himself. Lying effectively required intelligence, and Mezzo had struck him as someone who would have sat on the TV and watched the couch. The Tabbott also had a core of people he kept as his personal servants. Potential hostages all around, there. Grune, while having a larger force, would end up facing Guyver One should he try to take that colony. The more he thought about it, the more confused he became. What was Grune's ultimate aim? He was jarred from his train of thought when Maria leapt up and sat on the chair's left arm.

"Dinner's almost ready," she said.

"You just said tha magic woid, doll-face," he said. Maria's smile crinkled her nose as that crack always did though she'd never seen a gangster movie or heard of Humphrey Bogart, which he did a fairly poor impression of. Natalie had adjusted well to life in Watershed, much to the relief of both. She still missed her home in the Wood, true, but Verona had made no noise over Natlie's continued stay. In fact, no noise at all. So long as she reigned, relations between the two groups would be tense, but not overly so. Stalemates tended to do that.

It would have to be Gelroz, he decided, and soon. Winter would slow Grune down considerably, which worked in Lisker's favor. A small part of him insisted that it would be murder, and asked what right he had to play judge, jury, and executioner.

"Sometimes there's justice, sometimes there's just us," he muttered.

"You're going after that Gelroz, aren't you?" There was no accusation in her voice, merely love and understanding.

"I have to."

"I know. All those people he's hurt." And those he would, sooner or later. Maria didn't ask how he meant to go about it. She already knew, and had accepted that sometimes, there was no other way. She kissed him tenderly, wishing for all that she was worth that he didn't have to fight but knowing he would.

They stood before him, the survivors of the raid, quaking in outrage and fear. At Grune's feet lay the corpses of several of this nameless hamlet's braver souls. Some were shredded by the rounds fired by over-eager members of his force, others at his own hands. On his orders, men were raiding houses, stockpiling food and sundries they'd need for the winter. It was the fourth such raid in days.

"You'll leave us to die!" an elderly man, likely the village leader, cried in a reed-thin voice.

"Oh, no, I'm not that cruel," he said with his trademark sneer and a wave of his cybernetic arm. No smoke marred the sky this time, there had been no need for grenades. He turned to the men which stood as his retainers. "Separate the women." The lustful glint in each pair of eyes fazed him not a bit.

"YOU FILTHY ANIMALS!" the old man roared. Grune slowly came about to face him, and saw that the human had just reached the limits of his courage. He leveled his prosthetic arm in the old man's direction, palm out. The lance of light speared through his skull, leaving a smoldering hole before felling him. Smoke wafted lazily upward from the fatal wound.

"Any questions?" he asked in a jaunty voice. Only frightened whimpers reached him. Good. "Men, you have your orders." While the Clutch members who'd accompanied him gathered the surviving villagers and supplies, Grune left the scene of carnage.

It felt good to be in command of an armed force again, he had to admit to himself, even if its armaments weren't up to what he'd had with the Mutant Army. Ratar-O's orders, though, were simple. Draw the attention of the ThunderCats. Away from what? he asked himself. Grune filed it away for later consideration. Once he found what he sought, he'd do more than draw their attention. Then, he would no longer have to take orders from that oily shit bag.

The captives and supplies gathered and loaded, his men were ready to return to their stronghold. Finding it had been a blessing, and from it he would extend his reach to all corners of this pathetic planet.

The scent of food set Sho's empty stomach to rumbling as he and Myrlha entered the Bolkin Bar. Soft music caressed his ears, more sound files recovered from the data kept secure in the redoubt beneath the Tuska camp, and its purpose was obvious. The restaurant was fast becoming a meeting place for lovers and singles hoping to get lucky. To his surprise, a few Wollos were seated at the bar. A mix of men and women, they looked awkwardly about as they nursed drinks. Sho suppressed a laugh as he and Myrlha stepped toward the stairs to the upper deck. From what he remembered of his one and only dive into Lisker's mind, Wollos didn't date outside their own species. With one exception, though.

"Well," Purrsia said as she set the complimentary tray of breadsticks between them on the table and lit the candle. In a bottle, even. "Not every day a superhero brings his lady love into our humble establishment." The grin in her voice was matched by the one on her face. "Drinks are on me tonight, but if Felina brings out the plates the food's on you."

"Two of the House Special," Myrlha replied.

"One of these days, Bundan's gonna have to gun up a waiver concerning people's livers over that," she chuckled. "Drinks'll be up in a sec." Her bold, brassy demeanor dimmed somewhat. "Vanguard..."

"Sho, please."

"Sho, then." Purrsia smiled at that. "I'm glad you came here. I wanted to thank you."

"You're more than welcome," he replied with a smile, his signature blush, and an extended hand. Purrsia took it and shook firmly.

"Just as modest as I've heard. Seriously, drinks're on me."

"I..."

"Say, 'Yes, Miz Purrsia'," Myrlha said.

"Yes, Miz Purrsia."

"Wow. You really got HIM trained!" The brass was back in her voice and demeanor.

"I have my little ways," Myrlha said with a toss of her chestnut tresses and a conspiratorial wink. Purrsia took her leave, the soft glow of the candle casting a cozy isolation about their table. Sho relaxed, taking in the sight of her. She'd made a man of him in more ways than one since their relationship had started. "Sho-kun," she sang softly, reaching for a breadstick. It neared her mouth, and he found himself rather distracted for a few moments.

"Wow." She was, to be brutally honest, incredible with that part of her anatomy. He was suddenly glad to be sitting down.

"Kinda weird, this being our first actual date and all," she said. Purrsia arrived with their drinks. Both ordered the roasted meatfruit with onion soup.

"Well, things have been really crazy since we got together."

"That's the way it goes for ThunderCats. Always on call. Seems to be the case for Vanguards, too."

"Tonight, it's just us." Sho reached across the table, Myrlha's hand joining his. "I wrangled an entire day off for us next week."

"Oh?"

"Remember that time I took a fly-over above the southern areas?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"I found something. I like to call it 'Our Spot'."

"I love it already. What's it like?"

"Ever been in a natural hot spring?"

"No. Oh!" Her eyes widened as the realization dawned on her.

"You got it. It's just the right temperature, and in a hollow rock formation. Don't ask me how a hollow cone of rock burst up from the earth, but it's there. Picnic lunch?"

"I might not be much of a cook, but I can make a mean sandwich." The meal arrived, and both fell silent while eating. It was a holdover from their days of building the colony, especially after the unwelcome visit from Safari Joe. Sho fingered the small item in the liner pocket of his cloak. Should I do it now? he wondered, or wait?

Myrlha noticed the slight unease on his face at once. "What is it?"

"I have something for you, and I want to give it to you now."

"Sho no hentai," she said. Pervert.

"Not THAT!" he exlclaimed in a whisper.

"Oh? Am I losing my womanly charms?" she teased, batting her eyelashes comically.

"Not hardly." Then, in Japanese, "Watashi wa anata o aishi, Myrlha-chan" (I love you, Myrlha-chan) "Anata wa watashi to kekkon shimasu ka?" (Will you marry me?)

Myrlha nearly stopped breathing at Sho's words, her heart beating in the vicinity of her throat. He had said it. The M-Word. Marriage. Despite her love for him, she still hesitated. Her mother had always said "Marry in haste, repent at leisure."

She could not have his child. Not now, at any rate, and the resarch which might make it possible would pay off YEARS too late. Even if his lifespan hadn't been abnormally extended by the Guyver, hers had not.

But, still...

They lived in the here and now. She had always wanted a family with a man she loved, and she loved no man more fiercely than she did Sho. She wanted to, oh yes, she did. But, would it be wise? Children... There were options, and who knew? Pumyra might be wrong.

Myrlha searched her heart, then, her feelings. Yes, she loved him. Yes, she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. Even if he couldn't spend the rest of his with her. There was just no way on that score. So, the choice was clear. Start putting distance between them and make both of them overall miserable, or take a chance and live? One thing was clear: to do nothing would erode what they had, and fast.

Live in the moment, or be a coward.

The choice was obvious.

"Hai," she said. ("Yes") Sho smiled, his face radiant.

"You know..."

"I know, and I don't care. A life with the man I love, or a life wondering what might have been. I spent too long as a slave wondering what might have been if Thundera had never been destroyed, what if I'd never been picked up and enslaved. No more. I want to be your wife, Sho. No matter what that might bring."

"Y'know," he said, his unease melting away, "it's not many guys who make a marriage proposal on the first date and get a yes."

"It's not many guys who win the heart of a woman from another species," Myrlha retorted. "Now, if we're done here, I'd like to go home. And take a shower. Preferably with a certain human as company."

"Your wish," Sho said, leaving the money for the meal with a tip, "is my command."

Lion-O sat on the enormous bed he and Cheetara shared. It was easily large enough for four people, and soft to the point of being an extravagance. She sat before him on the stool which usually rested before her rarely-used vanity. She was a warrior, true, but the rare use of cosmetics stemmed from another source. She was too beautiful to really need it. Worry gnawed at him when she placed her hands in his.

"Lion-O," she said.

"Yes."

"You know I love you. More than any man in the world."

"I know." Oh, Jaga, what could this be? he thought. The melodrama of that escaped him.

"Something's happened."

"What is it?" Oh no, oh no!

"I'm pregnant."

"Oh, I'm... Wait, what?!" Lion-O leaned back on his arms, slackjawed. Cheetara's face broke into a brilliant smile. Though he could not know it, he was imitating Bengali's reaction to the same news from Pumyra to a T.

"You. Me. Cub. Diapers." she said, relishing in his reaction. Even more so when his powerful arms embraced her.

"You forgot Snarf in that short list," he said, his mouth near her ear.

"Well, he is the royal babysitter."

"So were you, as I recall."

"It's so strange," she said as they pulled apart and looked each other in the eye. "I changed your diapers, and I'm having your cub."

"You won't hear ME complain." Lion-O traced his fingers up her spine, a move he knew would excite her.

"Careful, there," she admonished. "We can't do much of that now, can we?"

"How far along?"

"A month. This DOES step up the wedding plans some." Wether or not her child could claim the throne was secondary. She was about to give life to Lion-O's child. Her own child. That, in one brilliant moment, was beyond any concerns about succession. She was with cub. HIS cub. Right then, nothing else in the world mattered.

"I was hoping to ASK for your hand in marriage first," he said, his hands carressing her back.

"Well, consider me asked, and consider my response 'yes'." she said around a giggle. Their weight shifted suddenly, her on the bed with his face over her midsection.

"Remember that night on my throne?"

"Of course." It was when Sho had returned from that nightmare future.

"Good. Because I've been meaning to give as good as I'd gotten." Cheetara's back arched as his lips made contact.

"What's up, Teach?" Etain said as she set the music player their apartment had been equipped with to "Jazz". She had gained an appreciation for the sounds of the saxophone, an instrument whose sound had never existed on Thundera. She heard Avril rummaging in the fridge as she shrugged out of her clothes. Of the two pairs of undergarments in the package, one had been sized for her. Fahd had one hell of an eye for detail. She slid on the silk garments, shivering as she did so.

"Myrlha. Sho's own LOVER!" she cried as she put together the meal she'd nuke in the microwave.

"So?" Etain stepped into the kitchen. Avril's back was to her. The latter turned around, and her eyes nearly left their sockets. "ETAIN?!"

"What?" she said, lounging against the doorframe. The bra's cups came just up to her nipples, the panties sheer enough to drive anyone to a fit. "Yours are still in the box." A bottle of wine, which Etain had purchased, sat in ice on the table.

"I... I can't..."

"Yes, you can. Live, girl. We can do that, now." Avril trudged into the foyer as if walking to her execution. Etain knew better. She stepped to microwave above the stove and pulled free the takeout from the Bolkin Bar within. Whatever Meatfruit Stir-Fry was, they'd both fallen in love with it.

"Is this better?"

Etain nearly spilled wine on the table at the sight of her. The sheer red brassier lifted her breasts in a fetching manner, while the cup of the panties covered only her privates, the strands linking the front to the back thin as gossamer yet still visible. Fahd, she thought, was a master of his craft.

"I'll take that as a yes," Avril said with a wink. In their home, she could be rather playful.

"I love you so much," Etain said.