Afternoon light filtered into the dingy motel room, the horizontal blinds splitting it into rays that cast themselves across the room. A distinctive musty scent lingered in the air, in part due to the afternoon's activities, but mostly as a result of the place having not been properly cleaned in some time. Not that it mattered, the clientele who frequented such places weren't concerned about niceties such of room service or even basic cleanliness. Establishments such as this were the run of down-and-outs, drifters, or those looking for a cheap place to enjoy a very specific type of company.

Marco didn't fall into any of these categories.

After as high profile a job as the one he had just pulled, it was good practice to lay low for a period of time. This could be a few days, weeks or even months. The media circus surrounding what he had done in a Megakat city back alley had died down quicker than he had anticipated. As usual, the name of the deceased had not been made public, although come the memorial service and everyone would know. Marco had assumed that was what this was all about, whoever had employed him for this job clearly wanted to send a specific message, and he suspected that it had something to do with one of the two enforcers in that alley.

Strangely though, while the instruction had been to only kill one, and merely injure the other, the final decision had fallen to him.

Marco rolled over and checked the bedside clock.

"Three fifteen, almost time."

Come to think of it, this whole job had reeked of strange. A hundred grand was a fairly typical going rate for this sort of hit, fifty for him and fifty for his crew, yet he had received it all up front. Standard procedure was to receive half upon accepting the job, and half upon completion, or, that's how he'd been doing it. Seemed to have worked.

His mysterious employer, however, had insisted on paying him up front. The only time this would happen is if the job was exceptionally dangerous, which it wasn't, or if the client didn't want to leave behind any debts should the job go sour. Even though the targets were low-ranking nobodies, that would have made sense, had this individual not proceeded to provide Marco with a direct contact number for him. Most likely a burner, but even so, it was a risky move.

Then there was the crew.

Amateurs; violent thugs, not the sort of professional you'd employ to take down an armed target. Sure, good enough for run of the mill strongarm tactics, but not for a precise hit. The fact that he'd left one of them dead in the alley, his brains scattered across the ground, would mean that this whole thing would just look like another case of random gang violence, not the sort of thing you spend a hundred thousand dollars on. It just didn't add up. At least the others would be happy; they only need split their share three ways, rather than four.

"Unless this was nothing to do with the cop we killed."

He quickly pushed the thoughts from his mind; he was a professional, and professionals didn't make it very far if they asked a lot of questions or thought too long and hard about their jobs. Get paid, do the job, keep your mouth shut. Simple.

Macro threw the covers back and sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

"Hey baby, everything alright?

The she-kat beside him stirred, rubbing her eyes as she propped herself on her forearms.

"Yeah sweetie, just gotta make a call."

"You wanna go again?"

Marco pulled his jeans up and buckled the belt. Spending a bit of his money like this was something he did just to blow off a bit of steam; even the small jobs got the blood pumping a fair amount.

"Nah, sweetie, just get your tail outta here. How much do I owe you?"

"Three hundred."

The gray furred kat fished his wallet from his pocket and pulled out a pawful of crumpled bills.

"Here you go." said Marco, "Make it three fifty, I'm feeling generous, now be a good girl and scoot off."

The she-kat smiled playfully at him.

"Well, don't keep me out of the loop for too long, I'll be waiting for you!"

Marco could help but feel a small pang of affection as she left the room. Carla was a good girl, it was almost a shame to pay for her company. Almost.

He finished dressing and reached again into his wallet, pulling out a small piece of paper.

"A few minutes early, don't suppose he'll mind. Might as well get to it."

His generous mood extended far enough for him to leave twenty dollars for whoever would come and clean the mess he'd made of the room. A few cans of beer, cigarette butts and some rather dirty bedsheets wasn't the worst state he'd ever left a motel room in. Nevertheless, it wasn't exactly pleasant. At least the smell of smoke went some way to cover the otherwise mouldy odour.

If it was cleaned at all.

With a slam, he closed the door and walked out into the parking lot. The usual throng of vagrants and gangers were scattered about the lot, smoking, picking fights or otherwise being a nuisance. Marco knew to avoid them, no sense in causing trouble and drawing unwanted attention. He gave a particularly rowdy group a wide berth and made for the motel's sole working public phone. Inserting two quarters into the phone, he dialed the number written on the scrap of paper. It picked up after one ring.

Speak.

"Marco here, checking in like you asked."

Where are you?

"Out of town. Don't worry, I'm alone."

Excellent. Good work with those enforcers, I see everything went to plan.

"Not everything, one of the hoods you sent didn't make it, got his brains blown out by one of the cops."

Did you take care of him?

"No, I let him go, just like you asked. Did the other one in."

Well, either way it works. Are you sure he lived?"

"Yeah, I checked up on it myself. He'll be holed up in Megakat Civic for a while."

Good. Anything else?

Marco hesitated.

"Well, now that you mention it, yes, there is something else. You mentioned before that if this went off without a hitch you might have something else for me. I'm not going to ask why you want all this done, but you're offering good money, so if you have work, I'm not going to say no."

He could almost hear the grin on the other end of the line.

If you remember that, you should remember what else I said. Are you sure you want in?

"Yeah, I want in."

Great. I had a good feeling about you, let's hope I'm not mistaken. Before we meet though, you've got to take care of that other item of business I mentioned. Shouldn't be too difficult for you.

"Alright, consider it done. I'll get onto it."

Tonight.

"Tonight? That's a tough call, what makes you think they'll even listen to me?"

Because you're going to offer them two hundred thousand dollars.

It was Marco's turn to grin. It was suddenly clear why this kat had picked the thugs he had for the previous job. Whoever he was, he knew a thing or two about the criminal mind, and was clearly able to use it to spin these sorts of situations to his advantage. Luckily, Marco had ended up as a piece more important than a pawn in whatever plan this was all part of.

"Ok. I'll sort it out."

See that you do.

The line went dead.

Marco breathed a sigh of relief, his heart pounding in his chest. He'd never done anything like this before. This was heavy stuff, and most certainly not the sort of thing you'd want to develop a reputation for, even among the more ruthless criminals in the city. His hopefully soon-to-be regular employer hadn't mentioned a price for this job, but Marco knew better than to ask. The fact that he'd casually dropped mention of two hundred grand suggested that whoever he was, he was well financed. Of course, there was still the matter of completing the job.

"Time to make some more headlines."

He picked up the received and inserted two more quarters, dialing a number from memory. Three rings this time.

"Hey, it's me."

###### ###### ######

Ulysses Feral, Commander of the Megakat City Enforcers, sat in his high backed chair in his office suite and the peak of Enforcer Headquarters. Seven feet tall, the imposing kat towered over his contemporaries and adversaries alike. With thirty five years on the force, fifteen of those in command, Feral had seen almost everything that the city had to throw at him. While the threats had been equal parts bizarre and dangerous, he had seen them all off with unflinching determination, even if the spotlight did occasionally shift from the stalwart efforts of the Enforcers to a pair of hotshot vigilantes.

But it had been some two years since they had shown their faces. For two years, the citizens of Megakat city knew that the Enforcers were in charge, that they were the ones to turn to when in need of protection. It was a roll that Feral had executed to the best of his ability all these years.

Time, however, catches up with every kat, and Feral was no exception. No approaching his late 50s, the time for retirement was edging ever closer. And so he had spent the better part of the past 18 months scouring the organisation for potential successors.

Naturally, there was only one choice.

His niece, recently promoted to captain upon his order, was the obvious choice. Calm under pressure, a crack pilot, street smart with just a touch of rebelliousness that reminded Feral a little too much of himself in his youth, he was certain she'd grow to become the commander that the Enforcers needed.

"If only everyone saw it that way."

Feral scrolled through the long list of e-mails that required his attention on a daily basis. Most were the typical administrative drudgery that was expected in his position, but more and more, he was being contacted by the Megakat City Civic Security Authority, the de jure civilian oversight body of the Enforcers. A spineless as they typically were, they were beginning to ask questions about his decision to promote Felina. He had expected such questions to be asked, indeed it was this very fact that had caused him to hold off on her promotion for such a length of time, a deserved as it as she was. Feral abhorred sycophants and favouritism, and both he and Felina knew that she had to spend a little extra time as a lieutenant for the sake of organisational unity.

Feral began composing a reply.

ATTN: MCCSA….

He paused, his paws resting on the keyboard.

"Actually, I've had enough for today, this can wait until tomorrow."

Feral hadn't forgotten that it was the Civic Security Authority who had pressured him into promoting Steele to the position of Lieutenant Commander. He had done so partly to make them happy, but mostly because at the time, Megakat City seemed to be gripped by disasters on a seemingly weekly basis, and he simply didn't have the time or the energy to fight their decision. It was only though Steele's immense ineptitude that he was able to discharge him without the city councillors kicking up a fuss. Ineptitude that had almost cost Feral his life.

They could wait.

And so he'd handed Felina some seemingly mundane assignments to sink her teeth into as part of her new position. As dull as arranging a memorial service was, she needed to appreciate her responsibilities from a viewpoint that wasn't down the sights of a rifle, or through the HUD of a fighter jet. Of course, this had meant that Feral himself didn't need to make the arrangements; he'd attended far too many memorial services during his career, even the small luxury of not having to plan the next was appreciated.

It was the worst part of the job, in his opinion, yet possibly the part he took the most seriously. For fifteen years, for every enforcer that had fallen in the line of duty, he had delivered the news to their families personally. He couldn't expect those under his command to follow him if he didn't take responsibility for their safety. This included bearing the burden when things went wrong.

He remembered all the grief stricken faces, every single one, and Vincent's parents were no exception. Rather than let it get to him, it steeled his conviction that what he was doing in the pursuit of Megakat City's safety was right.

On second thought, the councilors could wait all the way until next week, response deadlines be damned.

Feral thumbed the switch on his office intercom.

"Sergeant."

Sir?

"Call my car."

###### ###### ######

Marco pulled his aging pickup into the diner's parking lot. He was late, but that was intentional. This meeting was important, and if he was going to walk out of it on top he needed his wits about him. This meant putting the other party at ease. A few cups of coffee and a bit of time to sit and relax could mean the difference between a friendly chat and a paranoid breakdown.

He killed the engine. Places like this were ideal for such encounters; a remote highway far away from the city lights; the only signs of civilisation out here were the diner and an old salvage yard. Perfect for clandestine business.

Although it might be a stretch to call this clandestine.

There were a few other vehicles parked out the front of the run down diner; the old tow-truck was of little concern, just someone liable to get in the way. However, the trio of obnoxious, hotted up muscle cars parked across five or so bays told Marco that his "contacts" were already there, likely stuffing their faces with cheap, greasy food. Perfect.

Marco entered the diner. Other than the three hoods he had called here sitting in a corner booth, the only other customer was a large yellow standing off to one side, staring aimlessly off into the distance.

"Yo, Marc!"

Marco cringed. Sure, it looked like he might just be meeting someone for a meal, but it was bad practice to go shouting names out like that. The kat in question was the de-facto leader of the group of thugs he had been teamed up with for the alleyway job. A young tom by the name of Alec, he was definitely the smartest of the lot, yet not smart enough to move beyond common thuggery. To his right sat a large, overweight kat who everyone just called Max, although Marco suspect that wasn't his real name. Probably something like Maxwell or Maximillion. Max was currently in the process of shovelling a rather unappetising looking burger into his gullet, with a second one sitting on his plate. The third, sitting opposite them, was a quieter kat with dark fur almost the same shade as Marco's. He hadn't bothered to catch his name, and he didn't speak enough to warrant learning it.

Marco sat down next to the quiet one, facing Alec.

"How the leg?" he asked.

"Fine, fine." replied Alex, "shot just passed through the meat, nothing major."

Max gave a brief snort.

"Got something to say, fatty?" quipped Alec.

"Fine my tail," said Max in between mouthfuls of burger, "You wouldn't stop complaining about it for a whole week!"

"You try getting shot in the leg!"

"I'm not that clumsy."

"Yeah, well I'm surprised that no-one has shot your fat ass yet, pretty much impossible to miss. Did you really need two burgers?"

"Hey, it's two for one!"

"Alright, boys, calm down." said Marco. "We're not here to compare…"

"Can I get you anything?"

Perfect timing. Marco looked up and saw a tired looking she-kat looking down at him. She wore a fairly typical waitress apron with her hair tied into a bun.

"Yeah, just coffee please."

The waitress made no effort to hide her exasperation as she turned away.

"Cheapskate." she muttered under her breath.

"Woah, woah, hold on sweetie," began Marco. The she-kat turned back around to face him.

"Look, I'm sorry, I've had a rough day." he said, fetching a rolled up twenty from his jacket pocket and extending it towards her. "Could you brew me up some fresh coffee, make it nice at hot. I'll order some food in a bit, just need to have a little chat with my friends here."

She took the money from his outstretched paw and quickly pocketed it, her mood perking up noticeably.

"Sure thing."

Marco turned back to the trio of thugs. They were all grinning ear to ear.

"Someone's feeling charitable. The coffee here isn't worth fifty cents." said Alec.

"Shut up." shot Marco. "Anyway, like I was trying to say, we're here to talk about a job. Something's just come up. It's big."

"Sounds big, like, two hundred grand big. So what's the score?"

Marco leaned in.

"Ok," he began, "if you want in on this job, I need a yes or a no right no. No questions, no backing out. I haven't been given the details yet, but it's going to bit harder than what we pulled last month."

Max finished his first burger and picked up his second, pausing to briefly utter "I'm in.", before resuming his eating.

Marco turned to the silent kat to his left. "You?"

"Yeah, as long as it pays."

"Alec?"

Alec leaned back, fidgeting with his whiskers.

"Well, this is a bit strange, don't you think. The money is good, but I'm worried that we're getting in a bit deep here. I haven't been in this game as long as you, I'm not sure if this is such a good idea."

"Smart kid."

"That's how it works," replied Marco, "sometimes you go in blind, we're not exactly big on occupational health and safety in this business. You want the money, you don't ask questions."

Alec mused over it for a second before responding.

"Ah what the hell, this is too good to pass up. So what's next?"

"Here's your coffee."

The waitress placed a mug of steaming hot coffee in front of Marco and flashed him a quick smile.

"Do you think you could leave the pitcher here?" he asked.

She wordlessly placed the large glass jug on the table before returning to the kitchen.

Marco glanced about; the large yellow tabby had left, leaving him and his group the only customers left in the diner. Now or never.

"Ok boys," he began, "I had a word to our friend this afternoon, he gave me some pretty clear instructions as to how we're going to go about this."

Alec shifted excitedly in his seat.

"Yeah, well, what is it, Marc?"

Marco reached again into his jacket and produced a small photo which he slid across the table, face down.

"Have a look at this."

Alec reached out.

In a flash of steel, Marco's right arm shot out from under the table, tightly clutching a large serrated hunting knife. In one fluid motion, he brought it down upon Alec's outstretched paw, slicing through and pinning it and the photo to the table.

Alec's eyes went wide in shock, his mouth opening noiselessly.

With his free arm, Marco swung left, collecting the coffee pitcher as he went. With a shattering impact he crashed the glassware across the face of the kat to his left. The usual quiet nature of his victim was instantly shattered as he howled in pain, the boiling liquid searing his flesh. Instinctively, his paws shot to cover his eyes. Marco followed the coffee pot up with a vicious elbow jab to the kat's throat.

Good. Fatty's turn.

Despite being in his forties, Marco was still in good physical shape. In a single, rapid movement, he kicked out from the booth and drew his pistol. He had spent the afternoon tinkering with the discharge capacitor; while it would pack a punch, it would only be good for three shots.

Three shots was all he was going to need. He leveled the weapon on Max and started squeezing the trigger.

A flash of movement from Alec.

Marco's instincts had been correct; Alec certainly wasn't stupid. Even with a knife driven all the way through his paw, he had the sense to reach for his own weapon before he did anything so embarrasing as screaming.

"Good show, kid, but too slow."

Marco delivered a savage kick to Alec's face, knocking loose a few teeth, before returning his attention to Max. Max looked on in simple, dumbstruck awe and the laser beam pierced his chest, searing his overburdened heart and lungs into a solid mass of cooked flesh and fat.

The quiet one.

Well, not so quiet anymore. The kat whose name he'd never bothered to learn remained unaware right up until his death, his only thoughts those of blistering pain as the coffee continued to burn at his flesh and fur. Marco's second shot hit him square between the eyes, the heat of the beam fusing his paws to his forehead, forever freezing the expression of contorted agony across his face.

For the second time that day, Marco's heart was racing. Two down, one to go.

He turned his attention to Alec. The younger kat's face was stained with blood from his broken nose and smashed teeth. The shock of the attacks had caused him to drop his own pistol on the diner floor. Not wanting to take any chances, Marco kicked it away.

"Marc, you bastard!"

"My apologies. Where do you want it, head or heart?"

"Go to hell!"

Marco discharged the final round of his pistol into Alec's chest. He hadn't meant to mess his face up like he had, if he was going to off someone the least he could do is show them the professional courtesy of leaving them recognisable. Still, he had had to improvise, Alec had turned out slighter quicker than he had planned for. All in all, it had been quick, if somewhat messy.

The waitress screamed.

This was the part of the job that Marco was far less able to deal with. He knew his problem could be solved with a few more shots, if he had them, but that wasn't how he went about business. This required a more subtle approach.

His pistol hanging by his side, he walked slowly towards the terrified she-kat.

"Hey there… I'm not going to hurt you."

God he sounded cheesy. From lethal hitman to bumbling idiot, just like that.

If he sounded trite, the she-kat certainly didn't notice. Tears welled up in her eyes, her arms and legs shaking in fear. This was the sort of thing that employees of diners, convenience stores and the like got told about, but, of course, never expect to actually happen to them. Hand over the money, don't be a hero and 99% of the time, the criminal just walks away. No-one gets hurt.

The three corpses in the booth suggested that this was a one-percenter.

"Hey," continued Marco, "does this place have cameras?"

"W-w-what?"

"Cameras! You know, security?"

She silently shook her head, still shaking uncontrollably.

"Ok then. Well, I'll be going now... sorry about the mess."

"Really? "Sorry about the mess?" Just shut up and go!"

He made his way to the door, stopping briefly before exiting,

"Don't worry, you won't be seeing me again."

Without another word he left the diner. The sun had well and truly set by now, the lone street light barely illuminating the parking lot. Perfect for a leisurely getaway. Marco entered his vehicle; the engine spluttering to life as he keyed the ignition. The waitress would likely come to her sense in a few minutes and call the Enforcers. Time to move.

Marco pulled out into the highway and headed back towards Megakat city.

###### ###### ######

Something stronger had been on the cards after all.

Outwardly, the SWAT Kats were daredevil hotshots, screaming in at a moment's notice to save the day then disappearing just as quickly. No-one would stop to think that the kats behind the masks were real, living people, with fears, emotions and lives of their own. The ramifications of the catastrophic events that necessitated the existence of the SWAT Kats were, despite the severity of their nature, quickly forgotten by the citizens of the city. Perhaps this was a natural response; dwelling on painful memories was always unpleasant, and most choose to quickly move on.

The same was true of Jake and Chance; they felt bad, occasionally even gutted, every time they read the news and saw that the most recent move by the likes of Dr Viper or Dark Kat meant that a number of enforcer officers wouldn't be going home to their families that night. They didn't blame themselves for it, but it still weighed upon them. This time was no different.

Chance raised his glass, "To Artie and Vincent."

"Artie and Vincent."

The pair hadn't known Vincent, but they had known Artie, albeit not all that well, despite being a few years ahead of him on the force. A couple of times he had tagged along on a patrol, back during his rookie days. He had seemed like a nice kat, perhaps a little quiet, but with a good heart.

Now his partner had been murdered, and he would be in hospital for the foreseeable future.

"I wonder how Feral is handling this, doesn't have us around anymore to shift blame onto." said Chance.

Jake forced out a smile, "Hey, you know Feral, he's a stickler for rules, but I'm sure the SWAT Kats are the furthest thing from his mind at the moment."

"Guess we'll get to see him give a speech of some sort at this service. We going?"

The smaller kat put his glass down on the countertop and leaned back in his chair.

"I suppose we better." he replied, "Wanna throw on the flight suits? This Vincent guy sounds like he might have appreciated that."

A snort of laughter from Chance.

"Ha, yeah right. Feral would go berserk."

"Roger that, buddy."

###### ###### ######

Marco drove the last few blocks to his small inner city apartment. Finding parking at this time of night would be a problem. He circled the block a few times before pulling into an available bay, a short five minute walk from his home. The stroll, although short, was a good chance for him to clear his head; the brisk, cool air invigorating him, the gentle buzz of distant freeway traffic a calming and familiar sound. The day's work was done, all he need do now was wait until he was contacted again, something he didn't expect to happen for a few weeks. Time enough to enjoy his recent windfall, recently doubled to one hundred thousand dollars as a reward for tying up loose ends.

"Spare some paper, brother?"

He'd lived here since his enforcer days, and had long since learned to ignore the homeless rabble that surrounded the building. Even in a good a mood as he currently was, his generosity only went so far. Without a further thought for the vagabond, Marco produced his keys from his pocket and opened the graffiti stained door of the apartment complex. As usual, the elevator was out of service, forcing him to climb a dozen flights of stairs to his apartment.

A final scent-check to ensure he didn't smell of blood, sweat or other bodily fluids.

"All good."

Marco opened his door and stepped inside.

"I'm home."

"Daddy!"

A small kat, clad in floral pajamas and clutching a plush bear to her side, came charging out of one of the bedrooms.

"Hey there, kitty-kat."

Marco scooped the child up in his arms and planted a kiss on her forehead.

"You said you wouldn't be gone for so long this time!"

Marco felt a pang of guilt at the accusation. It was true, he did tell his daughter that he'd only be gone a few days. He hated having to leave her alone for such lengths of time, but in his line of work, it was sometimes necessary.

"And you," said Marco, "said that you'd be in bed by eight!"

She did her best impression of feigning ignorance.

"But I wanted to wait for you!"

"Well, I'm home now. Let's get you to bed."

Marco walked into her room and lay her down on the bed. She had his dark colouring for the most part, save for a few white patches on her face; that would be her mother's genes coming through.

Not that she'd remember what her mother looked like. Ever since his wife had left, it had just been the two of them in this small downtown apartment. Not an ideal environment for raising a child, but Marco had managed to scrape together enough money to send her to a good school. With his recent run of luck, he was hoping they might be able to move somewhere nicer.

"Have you been getting to school on time?"

She vigourously nodded her head.

"Good girl."

He walked to the door and flicked off the lights.

"I'll make pancakes in the morning. Night night, kitty."

"Goodnight Daddy, don't forget your letter."

"What letter?"

"A nice kat came past earlier and gave me a letter to give to you. It's on the kitchen counter."

Marco felt a lump in his throat. Heart pounding for the third time that day, he walked into his tiny kitchen. There it was, staring up at him, a manila envelope with the name "Marco Gatti" spelled across the front.

"What have I got myself into?"

###### ###### ######

Author's Notes:
Well, managed to get that chapter out quicker than I thought I would! Next chapter coming along shortly. Almost done with the setup here, so I'm hoping to dive into some action soon enough. I'm still not all that happy with my dialogue, I'm feeling it's a bit weak. Any suggestions are welcome! Updated the story description as well.

Also updated my profile, check it out!

Additional thought: Why is "action" not a category you can put a story into on this site?