UPDATE: Revised and edited 29-3-2016
Update: Chapter 10 has been uploaded!
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Chapter 9 – Countdown
"Well, boo," concluded Monster in a bored voice as he cast the newspaper aside. "He lives."
G.P. sat in his oversized armchair, holding his favorite knife in one hand and idly running a finger along its ragged edges with the other. Even G.P. had his contemplative moods. How ironic, Monster thought, that it was when his boss was staring absently at his knife that he was in his least dangerous state of mind.
Of course, knowing him, that could still change in a fraction of a second.
"Dang. I'll have to set my counter back by one," drawled the yellow-pelted cat. Lifting the knife properly to his eye level now, he pushed the claw of his thumb into a miniscule hole on the crafted handle. The yellow light coming off the solitary light bulb hanging over his head reflected off of its genuine red rubies as the small latch swung open. He pressed a button invisible to Monster and flipped the latch back shut.
"There. Kills back to ninety-five. Happy now?" said G.P., sounding like a put-off child. He leaned back into his throne and began to slide down lazily. "I wish there was a half option."
"How far does this set us back?" asked Monster carefully.
"Don't insult me, Monster. Tell Ashcan and Roscoe to lay low with the girl."
"Done – our place under the harbor bridge. Not even a roach could sniff 'em out."
"Good. I want the police running around themselves for a while, so make them disappear off the face of the earth for a while, got it?"
"Clear, Boss."
"As for Top Kitty's turf, it'll have to wait yet another day. The lucky bastard's got more than nine lives," hissed the gang leader as he looked down at the paper Monster had just discarded. The kidnap of Reese Kinsay made the headlines, and so did that fact that the Number One Suspect was currently hospitalized and under police watch. Government-owned media was a joke.
No, Gold Pelt was more interested in the unofficial news he obtained through his network. He was very interested in the person who actually found Top Cat, and just in the nick of time. His spies confirm that the policeman – Mahoney – neither worked nor lived close to their point of Rendez Vous.
Someone knew where Top Cat was going to be, and the gangster knew exactly how.
oOoOoOoOoOo
Gold Pelt swung open the door to one of his favorite places in the world – the Chokey Room. A lean-looking dog with long flappy ears and peculiarly-shaped spots on his face had his feet propped up on the uneven wooden table, reading what looked to be a large hardcover volume. He grinned at his leader upon seeing him walk in, took his feet off the table and offered him his pack of cigars.
"Bounca, I thought I told ya to punish the little lowlife, not read you books."
"Ya told me ta punish 'im, not kill 'im," explained Bouncer with a shrug. He pushed his glasses over his long muzzle. "Have a look for youself, Boss."
"It gives me hope it does, having an intellect as one of my own for a change. I never thought I'd find it in a dog, but the world is changin'.
So…how are ya, Spook? Hangin' in there?"
Spook was chained to the farthest wall, and had been for over two days.
Unable to stand up anymore, he half-leaned, half-hung limply against the sickly-yellow of the basement wall. His motionless shadow cast a dead weight onto the filthy floor. His oil-green fur was matted with grime and dried blood, and his left ear was blackening with infection.
G.P. walked up to him until they were mere feet apart. Monster kept behind G.P. as always, dwarfing his leader with his burly, impressive strength. Spook did not look up; he did not even acknowledge their presence.
"Spooky, ya haven' been takin' care of youself," the yellow feline crooned. "I count three ticks in yer ear."
Spook still did not react, and just when G.P. was about to wonder if the green feline had in fact died on him, he heard the profanity uttered under his breath, low and raspy in sheer exhaustion.
G.P.'s inner demons cackled – the green feline was too broken to even stand up, yet there it was - a small spark of feistiness that refused to be crushed underpaw.
"You should see youself now. Tsk, what a mess..when was the last time ye had a drink of water? Bounca?"
"I hosed 'im down two days ago," said the dog blandly without looking up from his reading. "Does that count?"
"I think I'm in love with this dog," said G.P., grinning up at Monster widely. "He understands me. Remind me to give ya a more interesting job, boy. I wouldn't want that kinda attitude wasted on the likes of this alley trash."
The gangster turned back to his prisoner, and leaned close until his black nose was not even two feet away. "I betcha didn' dream you'd live that long, did ya?" he sneered derisively. "And after your last heroic efforts, you should be thankin' me..but I know ya well enough now to know you're nothing but an ungrateful lowlife. Waste. I can literally smell the sickness in ya.
"You're dyin', Spook. You're dyin' And ya haven't even avenged your parents. What a shame."
Spook remained silent, so G.P. went on. "You went against me time and time again, and I kept lettin' ya off because you were just so damn entertainin'. Stupid as a mouse, but entertainin'. Now ya time's runnin' out and what've ya accomplished? Nothin'. All ya know how to do is mess up jobs. You know deep down it was your own fault what happened to Top Kitten don't you-"
Spook's shackles clanked as his paws and back tightened painfully. He lifted his bruised face to his tormentor's, the dim spark of revolt re-igniting in his gut. "Drop dead, G.P. It won't work on me. You should like, know that by now."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" exclaimed the yellow feline, raising his hands in mock-surrender and stepping back till his back was flat against Monster's enormous abdomen. "Now that's more like it! Where has this Spooky been, I missed 'im! 'Bout time ya showed that old mug back up again. What's it been, three days? I was startin' ta think ya were zombyin' out on me – what with all the purple and blue on yer mug. Wow, that Bounca doesn' look the type, does he? Is your nose broken? "
The sneer on that familiar face was an abomination. Spook was revolted, but unable to look away anymore; unable to blink even though his heart was burning with renewed grief. "Don't worry about me. Worry about your neck when I snap it for ya."
"You still don't know when to keep your trap shut," growled G.P., mood beginning to shift. Monster rolled his eyes to the ceiling, face grimly exasperated. "Haven't ya learned anything from your dear old leader?"
"I learned plenty," hissed Spook. "You're a son of a bitch – a liar and a murdering coward."
G.P. bared his teeth, no longer amused. "Wrong answer, lowlife."
Monster saw him grip the knife in his right hand, and leaned soundlessly forward so that his large head was just over his boss's shoulder. His lips moved so little that one would not be sure if he had spoken at all if it weren't for the slight trembling of his whiskers. "He's goading you," He whispered into G.P's ear. He didn't need to elaborate any further.
The yellow-pelted cat remained still, stone-cold eyes still boring into Spook's challenging, albeit terribly pained green orbs.
"So ya won' stop till there's more blood," sneered Gold Pelt. "Well, Top Kitten ain't around to cover for your little friends anymore. I will kill each and every one of them in front of you."
Spook spat in his face.
"God-dayum," said Bouncer from the table, the enormous volume still in his lap and the cigar between his teeth.
Rather than set loose the bloody fury Spook knew G.P. to be capable of, the yellow-pelted cat only lifted his right sleeve and calmly ran it across his face. It was Monster's terrifying stare from above that made something primal in Spook shrink back. However, the battered cat was long past caring; had been for three never-ending days.
He had messed up so extraordinarily he could not possibly make things worse.
"You're gonna walk over my dead body first," hissed Spook with immeasurable hatred in his words.
G.P. began to laugh, to Spook's despair. "Not on you life, Spook. Not. On. Your. Life! Now that would be a waste of my talents."
"Leave him to me, Boss," said Monster, keeping his unblinking gaze on his chained subordinate.
"Have it your way, Monster. You've always been the charmer." And with that, G.P. turned on his heel and walked away, interest lost.
Monster leaned down to the green feline's face. "You've made things very personal now, Spook." was all he said before he too, followed his leader.
Spook only stared after them. His mind, incoherent with exhaustion and hatred and grief, would not cooperate. He opened his mouth, but the words would not come out; instead, all that came out was a hacking cough. Droplets of blood sprayed from his mouth, and his parched throat seared painfully. The shock of pain, for a brief moment, spurred his brain and mouth to action.
"What's wrong with ya?" he painfully gasped. "Didn' ya say ya killed anyone who made mistakes?"
Slipping his knife into his jacket pocket, G.P. turned around at the door and regarded his feistiest henchman. His mouth widened in a sardonic smile.
"The ones that didn't want to die," he breathed.
oOoOoOoOoOo
Dibble opened the door to Top Cat's hospital room. Inside, Tony was on the guest's seat by the yellow-pelted feline's bed, while Fancy-Fancy lounged at its foot. Various gifts, get-well cards and food items sat on the side table. Top Cat was propped up against the thin white pillows, his throat still heavily wrapped in layers of bandages. An unfinished bowl of soup sat on the side table, and Dibble was sure it was half-full and cold.
Just as he was sure Top Cat was going to try something stupid again if he did not do something about it.
T.C.'s body may be healing, but his psyche was deteriorating with every day Dibble visited him at the hospital. Everything that's happened, and no word of Spook, along with the fact that T.C. abhorred hospitals was not helping in the least.
"Ah, Officer Deeble's here!"
"I wanna leave this morbid, over-sanitized institution," Top Cat said flatly.
Not again. "Hello to you, too. I can't believe ya missed the wooden plank at the station already," said Dibble impatiently. He noticed that the black under the cat's tired eyes was getting blacker.
Top Cat gave him a dirty look. "Okay, what did I do this time?"
"You do realize you're still a prime suspect, right? I'm helping ya out by keepin' ya here. Pretend to be sick for as long as you can and you won' have to leave this bed until court."
"Ya call this coffin a bed? I have springs through my rump. If I weren't so damn tired I woulda showed ya."
"Don't show me nothin', I'll take ya word for it. No more escapades, am I clear?" he said, the words coming out sharper than he'd intended.
Top Cat turned on his side so that he was no longer facing Dibble. "Yes, Officer." he said tonelessly. Tony gave the cop a grim look, and the whole familiarity of the depressed exchange settled like a dead weight in Dibble's gut.
"Well, I gotta go," Fancy sighed, pushing himself off the bed and walking past Dibble towards the door. "See ya tomorrow, T.C."
"Fancy, where you goin'?" asked Top Cat, turning back around to look at his friend.
"Back to the alley. I'm meetin' up with the fellas to get some things in order. Oh, Choo-Choo told me to tell ya he's gonna pass by tonight."
"Get what in order?" asked Top Cat sharply, sitting back up and staring hard at the brown feline.
"Our lives. Once the court rules ya free, we want you to come back to the alley like nothin's changed."
"Fancy! What have ya been up to the past week?"
"What's the matter with ya, T.C.?" asked Dibble, unsettled by the paranoia the cat was displaying. Top Cat ignored him.
"Hey, I promised I'm takin' care of things!" Fancy said. "Don't worry, no one's doing anything stupid. I promise."
"And why hasn' Benny showed up for two days?"
Fancy regarded him silently for a moment, before calmly replying: "He felt bad for tattling to Officer Dibble on your escape plans, and thought he'd stay away till ya cooled down a bit."
"The loudmouth. Tell him I'm still mad, and that I won' give 'im anymore of my noodle soup," growled the yellow-pelted feline. "What about Brain?"
"Still keepin' the books. We're still busted. Now will ya let me go?" said Fancy with an overbearing smile.
"The oath."
"I did it when I came in!"
"Encore and humor me."
Fancy heaved a sigh, and raised his right paw. "I, Fancy Fancy, solemnly swear I will take care of the fellas while Top Cat recuperates."
"And?"
"...And I won' get with any chicks until then." finished Fancy.
Top Cat looked a little more settled. He leaned back into his pillows and closed his eyes with a tired breath.
"Thanks, Fancy."
"Anythin' for you, Boss." and with that, Fancy left, throwing his white scarf over his shoulder.
"So, oaths are serious business, huh?" Dibble addressed the cat, closing the door behind him. "Then how about you gimme your oath you ain't gonna try to make a break for it tonight?"
"Nice try, Dibble." drawled Top Cat, rolling his eyes towards Tony. "Even Tony couldn' do it, and he's the best candidate for the job."
"You're plannin' ta split as soon as we leave, aren't ya?"
"Now, Dibble, I'm hurt."
"Well, excuse me for not trusting your word –"
"No, I meant I really am hurt. Sheesh.." muttered Top Cat, saying the final statement under his breath, but knowing he was loud enough for Dibble to hear. "The Gorilla Lady 'put' me in bed today again. I'm sore."
"Serves ya right."
"How are ya even a cop, ya sadist?"
"Okay, dis has been a lovely visit!" said Tony in a cheery loud voice. "Donchu worry, Offica Deeble. He won' try to run away tonight. Right, pal?"
"Yeah, whatever. Dibble, did ya find anythin' on Spook?"
Of course he was going to ask. He did every time Dibble stopped by.
"Not yet, T.C.." the cop said truthfully. His heart sank at the dissapointed look blooming on the bedridden cat's face. Top Cat slinked back into the covers, and Dibble knew he was not interested in anything more he had to say.
What could he say? That the green feline had dropped off the face of the earth, same as the mayor's missing daughter?
That couldn't be anything good. Dibble deeply hoped Spook wasn't dead, but it had been a week, and no one – not a breathing creature in Top Cat's network heard or saw anything, and Fancy had been diligent about his temporary leadership duties.
Unless Spook had somehow escaped right after Top Cat lost consciousness…Dibble did not see much of a chance that G.P. would let him live. That really wasn't something he could bring himself to say, so he remained silent.
Instead, he briskly walked over to the bed, past Tony's curious look. "T.C. Snap out of it."
He snapped his fingers aggressively in Top Cat's face. The latter broke his blank gaze and looked up at the policeman.
"Stop it. There's nothing you can do about it now."
Top Cat's expression hardened. "What are ya sayin', Dibble?"
"Look, the police is doin everythin' they can –" he ploughed on because he could practically see the scathing remark on the cat's tongue. " – Everythin' that doesn' involve gettin' people hurt. We're lookin' for any scrap of information on the maya's girl, and Spook. Nothing's come up. G.P.'s vanished inta thin air. And if ya keep up this depression, you're gonna disappear on us, too."
"Well, pardon me for actually worrying!"
"You're not eating, and Benny tells me you only sleep when you're given pills – "
"I'm gonna kill that cat!" growled Top Cat, dragging a paw over his face. "I took them once!"
Dibble dragged a hand over his own face. "Thanks for making me worry, T.C. I needed ta hear that, on top of everything else."
Top Cat looked at the police officer, affronted. "What are you, my father?"
"That's enough, you two. It's gettin' late. Top Caa', you go to sleep right away –" Top Cat's only response was an unintelligible groan that sounded suspiciously like 'Leave me alone, Gramps'. "Officer Deeble, could you walk dis old man home?" Tony asked as he pulled the door open.
"Uh, ok? Yea, o' course." Dibble caught himself quickly at the pointed look Tony was giving him, bade the cat a quick goodbye and followed the man outside, taking the door shut in their wake.
"..What is it, Tony?"
"Well, Officer, I donn really know how to explain dis. How to say...you are really not helpin' Top Caa' this way."
"What are ya sayin, Tony? Ya want me to let him go get himself killed?!"
"If you don' get there first, he will be."
"Listen, Tony. I'm the officer of my precinct. I'll handle it. Citizens shuldn' have to worry about this kinda stuff."
"But you don' know where de criminal hides, no?"
"...No. Not yet. But I will."
"Top Caa' is depressed. Bene depresso. He doesn' know if his friend's alive, and he's goin' to know whether you help or no."
"That's why I told the gang to keep their eyes peeled. If he tries ta make a break for it, I'll be there to knock some sense into him. Literally, if I have to."
"Dat can work if he do sometin wrong with the law. Won' work if he looks for a friend." said the kind man seriously.
"How do ya figure, Tony?"
"Semplicemente..some people - or caats - have de best in 'em come out when tings are tough."
"...So you're sayin that T.C. will go against my explicit orders to 'im-"
"Because tis sometin he can't afford losing," nodded Tony. "Here, let me show you sometin.." he pulled out a rectangular piece of paper, slightly bent at one edge, from inside his red coat.
"Me Mama take dis picture of dem one night when dey were in ole' country with me," he explained with a fond smile.
Dibble looked at the black and white photo in Tony's hand. T.C, Choo-Choo, Benny, Fancy, and Brain were all curled up in a cat heap, peacefully asleep, on what the cop could safely assume was Tony's parents' double bed.
"You tinkin what I'm tinkin, Officer?"
"That your parents must have thought it was rude those guys took over their bed for 4 weeks? Trust me, I know the feeling, only it was 4 months."
Tony smiled sadly, and he shook his head, "No. Mama didn' mind none. You treat dem too harsh, Officer, if I may say so."
He raised a hand politely to interrupt Dibble's objection, and went on.
"I explain - I can't help him alone. I realized dat I could only help very little.." he emphasized 'little' by bringing his thumb and index close together. "'Cauz he never stopped tinkin about Spook, not for one day. He kept waking up every little while, feelin' sometin was wrong. He would look around him, and remember why - Spook was not wit dem. I could see he was tinkin dat from his face. He'd look around at his pals and fall asleep, only to wake up again."
"Poor T.C.." Dibble whispered without thinking.
"Aa..dis is how Top Caa' suffers." Tony nodded somberly. "And you must stop it, Officer Deeble. You are de only one who can help eem. His missing pal canno' come back unless you make eem."
"Tony...you know there is a good chance that Spook may be.." Dibble found that he couldn't finish the sentence, and cursed his inappropriate timings of sentimentalism to the darkest pits of Hell.
"..Aye. Papa was sad for Top Caa'. He said to me it is a curse, because it is never a leader's choice to be leader. Dey find themselves trown into responsibility and can't escape it. It is like a ghost dat follows dem everywhere. Dey can't escape. If you don't save Spook, Top Cat will always be sick."
Dibble suddenly understood the frightening implication of what was being said.
If he didn't put a stop to this soon, Top Cat was going to keep trying until he wins. And they've all seen how well that went.
And if Spook dies, T.C. was never going to get over it.
He looked again at the picture, and understood what it is that Tony always saw that he himself never could.
They were all they had. Those cats were all T.C. had. Losing Spook was probably a thought more terrifying to T.C. than he'd ever express or admit; a concept that would drive this normally all-bark-and-no-bite alley cat to do something and something drastic.
"Why is he like that, Tony?" Dibble found himself asking, sounding nothing like a cop should - lost. "Everything I do for them and all those times I let him off the hook - T.C. shows about all the gratefulness of a cat...uh wait, did I just say..?"
"That ain't a very fair ting to say, Officer. Humans are even less grateful about everyting."
"How did ya come to understand 'im so much, Tony?"
"Top Caa' is de type dat doesn' want to be part of anything. He just wanna have fun and be free. In ole' country, many people are Top Caa'."
Was that why Tony liked T.C. very much? The little delinquent reminded him of his home? Dibble felt bad to even think how many times a generous, unassuming guy like Tony was duped throughout his life by Top Cat and his lookalikes on different continents on different sides of the ocean.
"Say, Tony."
"Yes, Officer?"
"Don' ever make a business deal with anyone without tellin' me first, alright?"
oOoOoOoOoOo
A/N: This is one of those chapters that had to be re-written over and over. The only part that was more or less finished quickly was the exchange between Tony and Dibble..and that was written months ago.
Again, an infinite amount of thanks to each and every one of you for sticking with this story. Thanks a lot for taking the time to review and I await your comments on this chapter. It makes me sad how much my full-time job takes away from my hobbies, including creative writing. I'm exhausted when I get home from work every night. I either have to study more crap, or I just want to sleep, or lie down and not do anything that requires thinking.
Thank you so much Kana for letting me know about the story's addition to the FanFic recs of T.C's TV tropes, and of course thanks so much to sadclown for recommending it! This here person's heart wept tears of happiness. I needed this kind of encouragement, especially since I do so little art nowadays because of my busy work schedule that I'm terrified I will never improve.