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Mount Olympus
By Bill Taylor



 Bengali was in the control room again with the book that night. He kept the 
book away from him though. Across the room, on another computer was 
where the book sat. Bengali was trying to force the book out of his mind. He 
asked Tygra to take it with him back to the Cat’s Lair, but he turned him down. 
All was quiet around the Tower of Omens. A little too quiet for the preference 
of the white tiger. He would have preferred loud noises and what not, if only 
because it would get his mind off what had happened last night.
 Then he heard a cackling. A very familiar, demonic cackling behind him. He 
turned and there was Pumyra, sitting on the floor with a wicked grin on her face 
and those same opaque eyes. She was a demon once again. “Join us!”
 “Pumyra? Oh shit, not again!” Bengali jumped from his chair.
 “Join us!” she cackled. “Make it easy on yourself!”
 “Pumyra, snap out of it!” Bengali pleaded. “You’re not one of them!”
 “Pumyra is gone, foolish mortal! There are only us! The Deadites!”
 “No! You’re not one of them! Fight them!”
 “Its useless! Give yourself up, and we will be merciful! Resist, and we shall 
feast upon your soul! HAHAHA!”
 “Let her go!” Bengali pulled out his hammer. “I’m warning you if you’ve 
forgotten, this thing hurts!” The Deadite Pumyra started cackling again, and 
slowly, turned her head down. Slowly, the laughter, the cackling, died down. 
“Pumyra?”
 Bengali slowly walked over, hoping maybe she was back to normal and that it 
was safe. Slowly, cautiously, he walked closer, hoping that he was not making a 
mistake. When he got to her, he touched his hand to her cheek and asked her 
name again. “Pumyra?”
 “HAHAHAHAHA!” The head quickly came up and screeched and cackled in 
the white tiger’s face. She tried to grab his hand and chew it off, but he pulled it 
away too fast for her. “Fool! We’ll get you, stupid fool!” In a rush of adrenalin 
brought upon by the fight or flight syndrome, Bengali turned and ran for the 
door to escape the control room.
 Bengali ran through the entire Tower seeking sanctuary, and all he could find 
was Pumyra’s office. Bengali turned on the sink and started splashing water on 
his face. He looked into the mirror and started breathing heavy to keep up with 
his racing heart. “Fine,” he sighed. “I’m fine.”
 Then his reflection took form and jumped out at him, resting its hands on his 
shoulders. “I don’t think,” said the reflection brought to life. “You zapped your 
girlfriend last night with the blacksmith’s hammer. Does that sound… fine?” The 
reflection then grabbed Bengali by his throat and tried to strangle him, laughing 
low but evilly.
 Bengali struggled to free his throat of his evil reflection’s grip, and after a few 
minutes, the choking tiger found that he was strangling himself with his own 
hands. He released himself from his own grip, and then looked at the mirror 
again. He tapped the mirror a few times to see if it was solid and to see if 
anyone else was on the other side, but there was no one. Bengali began to 
breath easier, and then tapped the mirror one last time. This time, his hand went 
all the way through and when he pulled it back out, it was covered with water. 
He began screaming and yelling for all he was worth. Then came that same 
cackling again. He turned around and there was Pumyra.
 “Shut up! Shut up!” he yelled.
 “We’re gonna get you. We’re gonna get you. Not another peep. Time to go to 
sleep,” sang the sinister Deadite before breaking into mad cackling again. 
Without warning, Pumyra somersaulted through the air, landing behind Bengali. 
When he turned around, she grabbed his shoulder, holding him there, and began 
punching him in the face. Bengali felt like he was going blind with each blow. 
Pumyra’s last blow sent him flying, right out of the office and he landed on his 
back in the hallway. He tried to crawl away crab like as Pumyra flipped 
forward. When she finally landed in front of him again, she kicked him below 
the belt. Bengali screamed in pain while Pumyra cackled away.
 “Why you-” Bengali manage to groan in a high-pitched voice. Quickly, he 
threw his legs up and caught Pumyra’s head between his feet, and threw her 
aside. Bengali scrambled to his feet just in time to see Pumyra coming at him 
again. He reluctantly hit her in the gut and in the face, not that it hurt her. She 
grabbed him by the throat and tried to choke him, and soon, Bengali heard 
another cackling laugh in the hall. He saw no one, but heard another person’s 
voice. Then he saw who was laughing. It was Lynx-o. The Deadites, as they 
called themselves, had taken him too. Demon Lynx-o was now rushing at 
Bengali, laughing maniacally, and at the last second, Bengali turned around and 
threw Pumyra off himself and into Lynx-o. Lynx-o threw Pumyra off himself 
and tried to tackle Bengali, and Bengali quickly knocked him down with an 
uppercut punch. Then Pumyra jumped on his back and started clawing at the 
back of his head.
“ARGH! You crazy bitch! Get off me!” Eventually, after spinning around and 
around for a few minutes, Pumyra wrestled Bengali to the ground. Lynx-o, eyes 
guided by the Deadites, walked over and grabbed Bengali’s left arm while 
Pumyra grabbed his right. They hoisted him up and cackled together.
“Here he is, oh dark spirits! Make him one of us!” Through the halls of the 
Tower of Omens, a strange and evil force was flying. When it entered the 
hallway of the Tower, Bengali lost all conscious thought.

 Cheetara was shaking all over with a cup of water in her hand. Tygra and 
Panthro had found her in the garage, looking as though she had seen a ghost 
and babbling on end. “I saw it,” she said between gulps of her drink. “I saw it.”
 “You saw what, Cheetara?” asked Tygra.
 “I saw it!” Cheetara was a wreck. “I heard him. He said it was too late for 
him.”
 “Who?” asked Panthro. “Who did you hear?”
 “Lion-o,” Cheetara replied. “I heard him. He said it was too late to save him.”
 “Who got him?”
 “They got him.”
 “Who’s they?” Panthro asked. Cheetara did not answer. She did not look like 
she could answer. She just kept shaking and drinking from her glass to 
unsuccessfully calm her nerves.
 “Its no use, Panthro.” Tygra sighed. “Not right now, anyway. Let’s just leave 
her alone so she can get some rest.” Panthro and Tygra left her room, stumped.
 “So what do we do about Lion-o?” Panthro asked. “Who do you think got 
him?”
 “I’m not sure.” Tygra replied.
 “My money’s on Mumm-ra.”
 “No, I don’t think Mumm-ra’s got him.” Tygra scratched his chin. “We’re 
dealing with something totally different here.”
 “Well I’m going back down to the garage.” Panthro took a turn to the left and 
went down the hall to the elevator. Tygra went right for the library. He needed 
to delve into some more occult things. Now he was starting to think he should 
have taken the book from Bengali when he asked him to. Now he was starting 
to think that maybe the book had something to do with Lion-o’s disappearance.
 Tygra walked into the library and found it to be pitch black, not that the dark 
bothered him. He felt along the wall for the switch and flipped it. There was 
something different about the library. Tygra did not know what, but something 
seemed different. He looked to the wall and saw a hole that he knew was not 
there earlier. He walked over closer to it to see what might have made it, and 
heard a sound. A sound that resembled rushing water. As he got closer to the 
hole, Tygra noticed that the sound was coming from the hole.
 When he was only about two meters away from the hole, it hit him. A powerful 
stream of blood gushed out of the hole, soaking Tygra in blood. Tygra fought to 
get out of the stream of blood and eventually he slipped on a puddle of blood 
on the floor. As Tygra struggled back to his feet, he accidentally got back into 
the stream of blood. Then the blood began to recede back into the hole. In a 
matter of seconds, all the blood was gone, all except the blood that Tygra was 
covered in. Soaked in blood, looking black and red, Tygra pulled out his whip.
 “Whoever you are, you wanna taste of my whip?” Tygra  began stalking 
around the library room looking up at the ceiling, screaming insanely. “How 
about, huh? Whip your butts to kingdom come! See if I don’t!” Tygra began to 
calm down a little bit, like he was waking up from a bad dream. He tried to sit 
down on a chair, and it collapsed under his weight. Tygra fell on his butt.
 “Huh?” Tygra looked up at the stag head on the wall. The Warrior Maidens, 
Willa and Nada, had given them the stag head as a sign of friendship, not that 
they really needed the head of a dead animal hanging on their wall. A cracking 
noise was coming from its neck. Then the stag head turned to look at him; its 
glassy eyes gone white opaque and mouth wide open instead of closed. The 
stag held Tygra’s eyes for a second. The stag head began to laugh.
 “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
 Tygra stared at the perverse sight of the deer head laughing at him, and noticed 
that the lamp was laughing at him as well. His eyes blinked a mile a second, as 
Tygra saw that the books were laughing at him too. The whole library was 
laughing at him. So Tygra decided –what the hell- and started laughing with 
them.
 “GHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” 
The whole room was alive with dark, malevolent laughter. Tygra began playing 
games with the lamp, ducking with it, lowering his legs as it lowered itself on its 
wire frame.
 “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
 “AHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
 After a while, Tygra stopped laughing and began yelling. Yelling in pain and 
madness. Madness brought about the Deadites. Then the doors came open and 
there stood Wilykit and Wilykat. “Tygra, are you all right?” asked Kit.
 “Do I look alright?” Tygra asked, twitching his eye.
 “Well, no but-”
 “Then I don’t!” he yelled uncharacteristically. “You heard them, didn’t you?”
 “Heard who?” Kat asked.
 “Them! The library! The books! The stag head! You heard them, didn’t you? 
Of course you did, or else you would not have come.” There was a look of 
madness in his eyes.
 “We heard you, Tygra,” said Kit. “We didn’t hear anyone else.”
 “How could you not hear them?” Tygra asked. “They were laughing loud 
enough to wake the dead! The undead! The un-living!”
 “Uh, maybe you should sit down.”
 “NO! I can’t sit down! That’s what got them laughing at me in the first place!”
 “Really, you should sit down.”
 “I won’t sit down! The laughing will begin anew! If you don’t believe me, sit 
down yourself! There’s a chair right over there!”
 Wilykit walked over to the chair and sat down. Tygra had a dumbfounded 
look on his face when he saw that the chair did not collapse under her weight 
and the room did not begin laughing.
 “Oh, I see! You’re too good to laugh at the kittens, you can only laugh at me!” 
yelled Tygra. “Well, that’s just fine with me! HAHAHAHAHA!”
 “Uh, Tygra?” Wilykat nudged the older, taller cat. “Maybe you should go to 
bed.”
 “But if I go to bed, they’ll start laughing at me again!”
 “You don’t have to go to bed here, just go to bed in your room.”
 “But-” Wilykit and Wilykat started leading him out of the library.
 “Come on, Tygra,” chided Wilykit. “The books aren’t going to laugh at you 
anymore.”

 Control Room…
 “So he was babbling about the library laughing at him?” Panthro asked with a 
raised eyebrow.
 “Yeah.”
 “Great. Lion-o’s gone, Tygra and Cheetara are going nuts, and I can’t get the 
Tower of Omens on the horn.” Panthro rubbed his eyes exhaustedly. “What 
else can go wrong today?” Then there was a crack of thunder.
 “How about a storm?” asked Wilykat.
 Panthro turned back to the computers and got an incoming vehicle signal.
 “What is it, Panthro?” asked Wilykit.
 “It’s the Thunder Claw. But why would a storm make Bengali, Lynx-o and 
Pumyra come all the way to the Cat’s Lair?”
 “Maybe they sprung a leak,” quipped Wilykat. Wilykat felt something 
wrapping itself around his leg, he looked down and saw that it was Snarf.
 “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” whimpered Snarf.
 “Yeah, I know the feeling,” agreed Panthro, pressing the controls to open the 
hangar. “You three stay here, I’ll go see what the problem is.”
 Panthro had his nun-chucks with him when he got into the garage hangar. The 
other Thundercats had not gotten out of the Claw. That made him curious as to 
what was going on. Was there Tower attacked, or what? It was kind of dark in 
the hangar, not that Panthro needed to turn the lights on to see, since he knew 
his way around pretty well. But why should the lights not be on? Panthro heard 
the door open with something of a crash behind him. He turned, expecting to 
see the Thunderkittens and Snarf, but to his surprise, it was Cheetara and 
Tygra.
 “Shouldn’t you two be sleeping?” he asked.
 “They’re here!” Cheetara yelled in his face. “They’re here!”
 “I know, I know. The other Thundercats are here. I guess they sprung a leak at 
the tower during the storm.”
 “No, not them! Not the other Thundercats! Not the Thundercats that we 
know!”
 “What do you mean ‘not the Thundercats that we know’?”
 “They’ve been taken- Lion-o, Lynx-o, Pumyra, Bengali, have been taken!”
 “By who?”
 “By the thing that chased me!” Cheetara answered. “A dark spirit of 
indescribable evil!”
 “Yes, it also took possession of the library a few hours ago!” added Tygra.
 “I still don’t know what you’re talking about.” Panthro said flatly.
 “I believe the word looking you’re for is… Deadites!” Panthro, Tygra, and 
Cheetara turned to see Lion-o. Or at least he who had been Lion-o, for the 
Lion-o who had been the lord of the Thundercats was gone. His eyes glowed 
yellow, and his maniacal smile revealed razor sharp teeth. At his side, the 
Deadite possessed Pumyra, Bengali, and Lynx-o stood. “We are the things that 
were and shall be again! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! We want what is yours! 
Life! HAHA! Dead by dawn!”
 “Dead by dawn! Dead by dawn!” They all yelled repeatedly. “Dead by dawn! 
Dead by dawn!” The cackling went on and on, until Tygra pulled out his whip 
and cracked it across the room, hitting Lion-o square in the face with it.
 “We beg to differ,” he replied.
 “Thundercats, HO!” yelled the three who were not possessed by the Deadites 
as they charged, weapons at hand. Tygra, Cheetara and Panthro were 
outnumbered, four to three, not that they would go without a fight. Panthro 
struggled with Lion-o, with Lynx-o trying to take him from behind, chewing on 
his neck a little bit. Cheetara tried to hold Pumyra at bay with her staff, 
wrestling around with her, while Tygra had his hands full fighting Bengali.
 Pumyra was pushing Cheetara back up against the wall, trying to choke her 
with her own staff. She seemed much stronger now that she was a Deadite. 
Struggling, Cheetara managed to push her legs up and pushed Pumyra away 
with them. Cheetara used her staff to leap up and kick her former friend in the 
jaw, and as she landed, bring her staff up and hit her upside the face with it. 
Cheetara went into a world wind, spinning her staff in her hands, hitting Pumyra 
again and again as rapidly as she could. Pumyra pulled out her lasso and 
wrapped it around Cheetara’s staff, and tried to yank it out of her grasp. 
Cheetara fought and struggled to hang on to it, but Pumyra eventually 
succeeded and Cheetara’s staff went flying through the room, hitting Deadite 
Lion-o in the back of the head. Cheetara tackled Pumyra, and that proved to 
be unwise. Pumyra sunk her claws into the flesh of Cheetara’s arms, and blood 
squirted out. Cheetara tried to fight back the pain, and the temptation to 
scream, but it was no use. Pumyra was overpowering her, and things were 
starting to look black in front of her eyes.
 Tygra was having his own problems with Bengali. Bengali had wrestled Tygra 
to the floor and was trying to bite his nose off. Tygra worked his legs up to 
Bengali’s chest and pushed up and forward, throwing him into the Thunder 
Tank. Tygra got back on his feet and cracked his whip at Bengali, cracking him 
right on the head. Bengali shrugged it off and charged at Tygra. Tygra wrapped 
the whip around him and disappeared.
 “Stupid tiger mortal!” yelled Bengali. “You can’t hide from the dead!” Bengali 
swung around and hit Tygra behind him, causing him to drop his whip and 
reappear, not that he could fool a Deadite. Tygra hit Bengali back, but Bengali 
was stronger, and took Tygra by the throat, lifting him off his feet and as high in 
the air as he could. Tygra gouged Bengali’s white eyes, and was dropped. He 
kicked Bengali in the stomach, but that didn’t even knock him down. Bengali 
tackled Tygra again, and once again, he had him by the throat. Darkness began 
to fill the orange tiger’s eyes.
 Panthro had Lynx-o under his foot, literally, but Lion-o was still a problem. 
Panthro had already hit Lion-o with martial art blows that would have killed 
anyone else, and his lord was still unfazed. What terrified Panthro was that he 
was starting to run out of steam, becoming exhausted. If he lost, then there was 
no hope for anyone. “Give it up, Panthro!” Lion-o yelled in his face. “You 
cannot slay the dead! HAHAHAHAHA!”
 “Up yours, Lion-o!” Panthro hit him, then took his arm around and lifted over 
his shoulder, then dropped him on top of Lynx-o. Panthro jumped back to get a 
little bit of space between him and the Deadite Lion-o, and when he looked 
around, he saw that the other Thundercats, Tygra and Cheetara, were now 
Deadites. “Okay,” he sighed. “Who’s next?”
 Lion-o stood up with Lynx-o, and smiled devilishly. “Get him!” And with that, 
the Deadite Thundercats tackled him.

 Wilykit, Wilykat, and Snarf thought they heard a yell that resembled the voice 
of Panthro. “What do you thinks going on in the hangar?” asked Wilykit.
 “I don’t know, and I don’t think I want to know.” Wilykat felt his stomach 
turning.
 “I think we should check it out,” said Wilykit.
 “Snarf, that could be dangerous, Wilykit.” Snarf whimpered.
 “Do we really have a choice?” Kit asked.
 “Yeah, we cannot go down to the hangar,” said Snarf.
 “Well Wilykat, who do you side with? Me or Snarf?” Wilykit put her brother in 
an awkward position, answering wise. So he closed his eyes, and moved his 
finger back in forth between Wilykit and Snarf.
 “Inny, meany, miny, mo,” he said, unaware that Wilykit and Snarf were rolling 
their eyes at him. “Catch Tygra by his toe, if he howls, let him go. Inny, meany, 
miny, mo.”
  Wilykit, Wilykat, and Snarf went down to the hangar to see what was 
happening. They walked slow, trying to keep from making any loud noises. 
Stomachs churning, Snarf whimpering, they came ever closer to the hangar 
door. When they reached the door, they stopped. Never knowing, never 
suspecting, what horrors lied beyond that door.
 “Well, what are you waiting for, Wilykit?” asked Wilykat. “Open the door.”
 “Why don’t you open it?” Wilykit asked.
 “It was your idea to come down here.” Wilykat said.
 “You were the one who labeled me as mo.” The kittens were about to argue, 
but Snarf raised his hand.
 “Well, neither of you has to open that door, you know.”
 “Would you rather do it, Snarf?” asked Wilykat. Snarf shrugged.
 “But if you absolutely have to, there’s another way. Rock, paper, scissors.”
 “Okay,” agreed the kittens. They turned, shook their fists for a second, and 
threw out. Wilykat had a rock, Wilykit had paper. Paper covers rock, so 
Wilykat stepped forward to open the door. He took his sweet time, walking 
slow, extending his hand slow, even extended his finger slow. He was going so 
slow he could hear and feel his heart beating. Then the door opened, and a 
yellow-eyed Lion-o appeared.
 “ARGH!”
 “AHHH!”
 “AHHH!”
 “AHHH, snarf!”











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