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The Fruit Nut Trilogy by Purrsia Part Two: the Statue Got Me High

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The Fruit Nut Trilogy by Purrsia Part Two: the Statue Got Me High The Fruit Nut Trilogy By Purrsia Part Two: The Statue Got Me High Though his expression remained stern and even, on the inside Lion-O was a nervous wreck. He hid his anxiety well as he stared at the monitor that showed Third Earth fast approaching. “What is it, Lion-O?” Cheetara asked softly, placing a comforting hand on Lion-O’s shoulder. He wasn’t sure if it was Cheetara’s keen extra sensory abilities that clued her into his distress or just the fact that she knew him better than anyone else. He glanced at her and offered a fleeting smile. “I’m wondering what awaits us down there.” The Berbil ship they were traveling in was entering Third Earth’s atmosphere at that moment. It wouldn’t be long now. Lion-O’s mind replayed the weak distress message received by the Lair back on New Thundera from Queen Willa. She hadn’t been able to tell them anything specific, but Lion-O couldn’t help but shudder inwardly as he recalled the sheer terror in the voice of the normally poised leader of the Warrior Maidens. Something was horribly wrong down there. But with Mumm-Ra long disposed of, Lion-O couldn’t for the nine lives in him guess who or what would have the power to wreak such havoc. Nobody had heard from Tygra or Pumyra. Luckily, they had been able to commission this ship from Planet Robear for the journey, since the Feliner would never have had enough fuel to make the trip. Removing the Sword of Omens from its resting place within the Claw Shield, Lion-O said, “I’m going to try to see if the Sword can show me anything now that we’re closer to Third Earth.” After briefly gazing through the holes in the Sword’s hilt, Lion-O slowly lowered the mystic blade. “Anything?” Cheetara asked hopefully. Lion-O shook his head, a scowl wrinkling his brow. “Still nothing. Whatever is happening down there, it’s blocking the Sword’s power of Second Sight.” Panthro entered the ship’s bridge area and looked eager to disembark. “You two ready?” Lion-O turned and greeted Panthro with the traditional Thunderian salute. “Yes. Are the others?” “Bengali, Lynx-O and Snarf are already down by the docking bays,” he replied. The Thunderkittens were the only ones left behind on New Thundera and were annoyed to have been left out of such an adventure to say the least. Lion-O turned his attention to the Berbil piloting the craft. “Try to land as near to the Lair as possible. And if you wouldn’t mind, could you try contacting Tygra and Pumyra there again?” “Of course, Lord Lion-O,” the berbil replied in its emotionless, robotic voice. The signal went out to the Lair, silence once again the only response. Lion-O avoided Panthro’s and Cheetara’s gaze, lest his unaffected facade crumble. What in Jaga’s name was wrong? His gut felt like it was in knots. “The Lair...it’s in view,” the berbil announced. Grateful for the diversion, Lion-O looked upon the Lair looming on the ship’s telescreen. It was nearing nightfall on Third Earth, and the Lair looked decidedly abandoned. No lights or activity could be discerned within the fortress. As the ship touched down in the middle of what used to be Tygra’s thriving garden, but was now a wilted and dead wasteland, Lion-O motioned for the others to follow him to the docking bays. “Thank you, Robear Bob, for bringing us all this way. We’d have gone in our own ship, but as you know, Thundrillium supplies aren’t up to what they should be on New Thundera.” “It’s no trouble, Lion-O,” he replied. “You and your people have been generous and valuable allies with not only our kind here on Third Earth, but also to those of us on New Thundera’s neighboring planet, Planet Robear. We’ll wait for you here.” -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The ThunderCats cautiously approached their former stronghold. Panthro actually had to pry the lofty entrance doors open, for there was no power turned on in the Lair to make use of their remote opening devices. They stood in the darkened foyer for a moment, each experiencing their own unease from the eerie silence within. It was clear that someone had ran sacked the place; debris and such were littered about. And something smelled awful. “Just look at this mess, rrrrrwl,” Snarf declared, breaking the silence. “That’s the least of our worries, Snarf,” Panthro replied. Bengali rushed ahead of the group, making no effort to disguise his rising panic. “Pumyra!” he shouted. “Pumyra!” “Bengali, wait!” Lynx-O pleaded to no avail. The young Bengal was already dodging through the debris and up to Pumyra’s room. “I was going to have us split up anyway,” Lion-O said distractedly, his keen eyes still scanning the area. “Well, I’m going with you, Lion-O,” Snarf insisted. Lion-O wasn’t in the mood to argue with him on the matter. It was then the ‘cats all went their separate ways, unknowing that was the last time they would be together... ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ That smell. It was getting more and more intense as Bengali neared Pumyra’s room. By the time he arrived at the threshold, he had to choke back the urge to throw up. It was truly the worst thing he’d ever smelled. His hammer out, he boldly pressed on into her chambers. It was then he saw the silhouette in the dim light fading twilight provided. His gag reflex was back in full force as he realized the decomposing body hanging from the makeshift noose was that of Pumyra. After several moments of alternately gagging and whimpering, Bengali finally had an opportunity to let forth an anguished wail. In his grief, he executed a well-placed shot from his hammer and freed her corpse from its hanging position. He caught the decaying form and sank to his knees. He cradled it as he wept. Why? What happened to you my dear Pumyra? A familiar, wicked cackle filled the chamber, and Bengali snapped his head up. Mumm-Ra? But...but that was impossible! Gently, he laid what was left of Pumyra down on the floor and stood ready for combat. His grief segued into rage as the laughter continued, the tone of it becoming increasingly mocking. “Rrrrrowwl!” he roared mightily. “Show yourself! Show yourself so you can pay for what you’ve done to Pumyra!” Suddenly, he caught sight of Tygra standing in the corner of the room. “Tygra?” he asked, stunned. His anger evaporated from him almost immediately. “Brother, what happened here?” As he neared Tygra, he took note of his hollowed, sunken eyes, and the fact that Tygra’s clothes were in tatters. His alarm grew anew out of concern for his fellow ThunderCat. “Are you alright?” Bengali was flabbergasted when Tygra grinned widely in response. He stopped in his tracks and scowled. What in the seven seas was going on? His jaw went slack when Tygra’s eyes glowed red, and fear stabbed at the pit of his stomach. No. No, that wasn’t possible. “Mumm-Ra lives,” Tygra rasped in a voice that was only a shadow of his robust baritone. “Congratulations. You killed Pumyra when you abandoned her here on Third Earth and married that refugee slut. But there is a happy ending after all. You get to join her.” Bengali stepped back, the reflection of the object Tygra brought forth gleaming in his wide eyes. “Tygra...Tygra, no....” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Lynx-O paused in his investigation of the lower chambers, his keen ears twitching as they picked up on Bengali’s anguished wail. He immediately headed off toward the source of the disturbance, his pace quickening as he heard more and more disturbing sounds -- was it possible that he heard Mumm-Ra, too? He quickly honed in on Bengali’s location, and had similar difficulty stomaching the stench of Pumyra’s decayed body as he neared. He knew it was the stench of death, but of what or who he could not say. “Bengali?” he choked out between gags as he entered Pumyra’s chamber. No reply was forthcoming. When Lynx-O’s hand brushed across the footboard of Pumyra’s bed, it was coated in a wet substance. Bringing the hand to his nose for a sniff, he surmised it was blood. Lynx-O surely was blessed at that moment to be spared from the sight of that room. Not only was Pumyra’s body inches from his feet, but Bengali had been mercilessly murdered with the Sword of Plundarr. The room was decorated with his remains as if he’d been put into a giant blender set to puree. Blood that had stuck to the ceiling began to rain down on the lynx, and he knew he had to get out of there and warn the others. The fur on the back of Lynx-O’s neck stood up, and a sinking feeling settled in his stomach. A shadow blocking the exit loomed behind him, bringing with it the same fate dealt Bengali. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Panthro tinkered with the power controls in the Lair. He’d succeeded in getting some emergency power on, but the main source eluded him. If he could get some juice flowing in the Lair again, they’d be one up on whoever was toying with them. He was leaning over a panel, cursing softly as wires touched and arced, when he was picked up off his feet and thrown roughly onto the ground.
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