Revised and rewritten 27-5-2024.
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Chapter 9 – Countdown
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"Friendship is always a sweet responsibility, never an opportunity." — Kahlil Gibran
—
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"Well, boo," concluded Monster in a bored voice as he cast the newspaper aside. "He lives."
In reality, he was barely containing his anger. He'd always considered himself a good people reader. But that nincat…she baited them good. She'd sure taken her time working her way into G.P.'s good graces to do it, too - going as far as he wanted every time. Gaining his trust. Moving up the ranks.
Now they would have to re-evaluate everything they'd planned.
"How far back does this set us?" asked Monster.
G.P. leaned back in his oversized armchair, absently running a thumb along the edge of his knife; 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.
"Don' get so worked up over it, Monster," drawled the yellow-pelted cat. "We're still way ahead. Mmm. Dang. I have to set my counter back by one, don' I." Typical Gold Pelt.
Lifting the knife properly to his eye level, 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 miniscule button within and flipped the latch back shut.
"There. Kills back to ninety-four. 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."
"So you already have a backup plan for your backup plan," smirked Monster. "Forgive me, your Majesty, dunno why I worried for a moment there."
"Shame, shame, shame, I thought you knew me better than that," Gold Pelt quipped back in mock-disappointment, regarding his confidante from under the brim of his bowler hat with gleaming yellow irises. "I kinda liked that Nightlight, not gonna lie, but I didn' get to where I am by lettin' some woman tickle me. Tell Ashcan and Roscoe to lay low with the mayor's girl."
"Done – our place under the harbor. Not even a roach could sniff 'em out."
"Good. I want the police runnin' around themselves for a while, so disappear 'em off the face of the earth, got it?"
"Clear, Boss."
"I'll handle the traitorous little stool pigeon myself later. As for Top Kitty's turf, it'll have to wait yet another day. 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 front headlines, and so did that fact that the Number One Suspect was currently hospitalized and under police watch. Government-owned media was a joke.
But, in all his years of operating, this was the closest any of the pigs had ever gotten to him. His spies confirmed that the cops who found Top Cat - led by some redhead from the 12th precinct - neither worked nor lived close to the point of rendezvous. He never stayed in any one spot for long, but the speed with which they arrived..it wasn't something he could ignore.
Top Cat was supposed to be dead. Yes, Monster could've just put a bullet in his head and be done with it, but where was the fun in that? Not to mention it wouldn't be his signature kill that he's become well-known on the streets of New York for; the point was to leave a message for Top Cat's gang of useless goons, after all - a message to get the hell out of Top Cat's territory before it was their bloody turn, but he had not expected the cat to be found that quickly.
For the first time in years, he would have to factor in the eager idiots on the police force when he plans.
Which means..he would have to get in touch with those fat higher ups and tell them to tighten the leash...or he'd go up there himself and show them 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 snout with one paw and deftly flicked the lighter for G.P. with the other. "Have a look for youself, Boss."
"It gives me hope, it does, havin' an intellectual 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 didn't look up; didn't 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 didn't 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' 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 nothin' but an ungrateful lowlife. Waste. I can literally smell the sickness in ya.
"You're dyin', Spook. You're dyin' And ya haven' even avenged you 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 you accomplished? Nothin'. All ya know how to do is mess up. An' ya know deep down it was your own fault what happened to Top Kitten don' ya-"
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, Gold Pelt. 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! What's it been, three days? I was startin' ta think ya zombied out on me – what with all that purple and blue on yer mug. Wow, that Bounca doesn' look the type, does he?" he came closer again and tilted his head, as if inspecting something on his face. "He even broke ya nose. Nayce."
The sneering mockery on that familiar face was an abomination. Spook was revolted, yet unable to look away anymore, heart burning with renewed grief. "Don' worry about me," he rasped in pure loathing. "Worry about your neck when I snap it for ya."
"You still don' know when to keep you trap shut," growled G.P., mood beginning to shift. Monster rolled his eyes to the ceiling, grimly exasperated. "Haven't ya learned anythin' from your dear ole leader?"
"I learned plenty," hissed Spook. "You sick son of a bitch – you cold-hearted monster," the hatred just began to spill out of his bruised jaw, hatred that flowed like a poison in his veins. "You don' need to worry about FastPaw - or anyone else; I won' let anyone - anyone - else have the honor of guttin' ya but me."
G.P. bared his teeth, no longer amused. "Wrong answer, lowlife."
Monster saw him flip the knife in his right hand, and leaned soundlessly forward so that his large head was just over his boss's shoulder. "He's goading you," he whispered into G.P's ear, lips barely moving. He didn't need to elaborate any further.
The yellow-pelted cat remained still, stone-cold eyes still boring into Spook's challenging, albeit agonized 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 two 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 heart.
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, overwhelmed with exhaustion and hatred and grief, would not cooperate. He opened his mouth, but the words failed to 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.
"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
🕔 06:49 pm
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 white pillows, throat still heavily wrapped in bandages. An unfinished bowl of soup sat on the side table, and Dibble was sure it was long-abandoned and cold.
Just as he was sure Top Cat was gonna try something stupid again if he didn't do something about it.
So far the cat had tried to escape through windows, sneak under blankets on stretchers, and even tried to slip down the laundry chute once.
T.C.'s body may be healing, but his psyche was deteriorating with every day Dibble visited him. Everything that's happened, and no word of Spook, along with the fact that T.C. abhorred hospitals all wasn't 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 protectin' ya by keepin' ya here. Sit ya tail for a lil bit longer and ya 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 sore I woulda showed ya."
"Don' show me nothin', I'll take ya word for it. An' 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 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 matta with ya, T.C.?" asked Dibble, unsettled by the paranoia the cat was displaying. Top Cat ignored him.
"Hey, I promise I'm takin' care of things," Fancy said. "Don't worry, no one's doing anythin' stupid. I promise."
"And why hasn' Benny showed up for two days?"
"He felt bad for tattlin' to Officer Dibble on your escape plans, and thought he'd stay away till ya cooled down a bit. You know that," he regarded his friend with a slight grin.
"The loudmouth. Tell 'im I'm still mad, and that I won't 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?" sighed Fancy with an unruffled, affectionate smile.
"The oath."
"I did it when I came in!"
"Encore and humor me."
Fancy heaved another sigh, albeit for show and without any real annoyance, 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 trustin' your word –"
"No, I meant I really am hurt. Sheesh.." muttered Top Cat, saying the next words under his breath, but knowing it was loud enough for Dibble to hear. "The Gorilla Lady 'put' me in bed today again."
"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, clapping his hands together. "Donchu worry, Officer 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, and his heart sank at the dismayed look the cat failed to hide. Top Cat slinked back into the covers, and Dibble knew he wasn't 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 over two weeks, and no one – not a breathing creature heard or saw anything, and Fancy had been working double time trying to find out anything through the gang's own network.
Unless Spook had somehow escaped right after Top Cat lost consciousness…Dibble didn't see much of a chance that G.P. would let him live. That really wasn't something he could bring himself to believe, let alone say, so he remained silent.
Instead, he briskly walked over to the bed, past Tony's curious look. "T.C. C'mon, 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 nothin' you can do about it right now."
Top Cat's expression hardened. "What are ya sayin', Dibble?"
"You can't help anyone if ya don' take care of yourself first," the cop reasoned. "I could literally count ya ribs yesterday - you think we ain' noticin' how thin ya gettin'? I know the silence is drivin' ya nuts but if ya keep this up you're gonna drop dead on us."
"Well, sorry to be the sad stain on ya perfect record of accomplishments, Officer. I'll make sure to flip off the Worry switch before you pass by next time. Don' wanna remind ya of this failure," said the cat testily.
"Cut it out. You know that ain't what I meant."
"Whaddya expect me to do?" said the cat heatedly. "Sunbathe in this casket until maybe the police find somethin'?!"
"Explain to me what ya think you'll accomplish when you get out while ya still sick! You don' have anythin' to go on - ya told me that yourself. And Fancy's already doin everythin' you tell 'im to…but still nothin' on Spook or G.P. The guy's vanished inta thin air - just sittin' on the girl for some reason - hasn't even sent for a ransom yet. It's drivin' everyone crazy."
"Top Caa'.." interceded Tony gently. "You need to put youself first dis time. Dis once. I know you can't stand bein' 'ere for another minute...but you need to get your strength back. Das how you be there for your boys. Das how you can help Spook."
The cat made a frustrated sound and turned away, digging restlessly against the already-mussed pillows.
Dibble refused to let his feeling terrible for the cat cause him to yield. He went on. "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 'em once!"
Dibble dragged a hand over his own face. "Thanks for makin' me worry, T.C. I needed ta hear that, on top of everything else."
"What are you, my father?!"
"Ok, das enough, you two. It's gettin' late. Top Caa', you settle down an' rest now –" Top Cat's only response was an unintelligible long groan that sounded suspiciously like leame alone, Gramps, before he covered his head with the sheets. " – I'll be back tomorrow aftanoon. Officer Deeble, could you walk dis ole man home?" Tony asked as he got to the door.
"Uh, ok? Yea, o' course." Dibble caught himself quickly at the pointed look Tony was giving him, bade the cat a goodbye and followed the man outside, taking the door shut in their wake.
"..What is it, Tony?"
"Well, Officer, I don' need to tell you dis, you know as well as I do it's only a matter of time before Top Caa' takes off. Maybe not today, but soon. He's not gonna listen to either of us for much longer."
"What are ya sayin? We should just let it happen? Let 'im go get himself killed?!"
"If you don' get to the bottom of dis and handle it soon, he will."
"I'll handle it," said Dibble forcefully, as if convincing himself as much as the other man. "I'm the main officer on this precinct, I'll handle it. An' that's why I told the gang to keep their eyes peeled. If he makes a break for it, I'll be there to knock some sense into 'im. Literally, if I have ta."
"But you don' know where de criminal hides, no?"
"Not yet. But I will."
"He can't stand not knowing where Spook's gone," said Tony. "He's barely eating. He's depressed, an' afraid. At least before, he knew 'is friend is alive. Now..is radio silence - off the grid for over fifteen days. Officer..have you ever had a missing family member?"
Dibble shook his head. "Then you an' I canno possibly know how he feels," said Tony simply. "'Knocking sense into 'im' - dat only works if he does sometin' wrong with the law. Won' work if he's looking for his friend. Because dis is one ting he canno afford losing. Here, let me show you sometin.."
Tony 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 asleep in a cat heap, on what the cop could safely assume was Tony's parents' double bed.
"You tinkin what I'm tinkin, Officer?"
"That your parents musta thought it was rude those guys took over their bed for 4 weeks? Trust me, I know the feelin', 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 realized dat I could only help very leetle.." 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 again and again, 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 'is 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, Offica Deeble. You are de only one who can help 'im."
"Tony...you know there's 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.
"He's never gonna stop until he finds 'im, Officer. My Papa, he 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. Not physically, an' not inside der head. I pray to God Spook is alive, or 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 all of this and soon, Top Cat was going to keep doing whatever it takes until he got to Spook. And they've all seen how well that went.
And if he did..but Spook was already dead, he didn't know if T.C. would ever get over it.
He gazed at the photograph; they were all they had. Those cats were all T.C. had. The possibility of Spook being murdered had shot to the stratosphere, and that was probably more terrifying to the yellow feline than he'd ever express or admit; a concept that would drive this normally all-bark-and-no-bite alley cat to do something drastic.
"I want to help him, Tony. You know how much I want to. An' even though we're pals, there's just this..wall when it comes to this. Why's he like that?" Dibble found himself asking, sounding nothing like a cop should - lost. "Everythin' I do for 'em, all those times I let 'im off the hook - An' he shows all the gratefulness of a cat."
Not to mention all the times he shielded the cat from the other policemen, Dibble thought to himself tiredly; sometimes Top Cat just didn't fully realize how he came across to people who didn't know him well.
"That ain't a very fair ting to say, Offica. Top Caa'..he de type dat doesn' want to be a piece of anytin'. He just wanna have fun and be free wit his gang. 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.
"I get it's because I'm a policeman an' what that represents, but this is completely different from keepin' 'im from throwin' bingo parties and sneakin' the roulette wheel down from the pool hall."
"Yeah, I miss dat," said Tony, fondly. "I miss dat T.C. He never failed to make me laugh. You know de first time we met? He talked me into feedin' his friends while dey pretended to be critics. It was much endearing."
Scratch that. Tony wasn't as unassuming as Dibble thought, the man just found Top Cat too entertaining to really be mad.
"I can never say no to anyone just tryin' to take care of deir own," said Tony, as if reading Dibble's thoughts.
Dibble looked at him, and realized this was the very first time he clearly - truly - saw what Top Cat saw in Tony. And it wasn't a 'dupe'.
"..You're good with 'im, Tony. I'm glad he has someone like you."
"Top Caa' has more friends den he tinks, an' dey would do anytin' for 'im. All of dis will show 'im just how much," said Tony with a smile. Ever the comforting refuge of a friend.
oOoOoOoOoOo
(Original A/N from 2016: 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.)