Chapter 1: Prologue – Crisis

"What the hell's going on?" 

"Call the General! We can't afford this!" 

"What happened? WHAT HAPPENED?"

Chaos was afoot at the headquarters of the Lyncala National Nuclear Company. 

All throughout the building, cats were dashing back and forth, some having been on shift for hours and some only getting to work now. Papers flew in every direction, several coffee cups spilled, paws thundered on the ground like a raging summer storm. In one control room bright incandescent red bulbs flashed in sequence; a painfully loud alarm buzzed rhythmically over the loudspeakers. Disaster had struck, and now the company was overtaken by a whirlwind of madness.

In one small office, a scraggly brown tabby frantically tapped out a message on a telegraph. He knew it probably wouldn't be received if his assumptions about the crisis occurring were correct, but it was worth a shot. If he could get through to anyone in that distant town- the post office, the police, hell, even the hotel- maybe he could save at least a few civilians. This was the fourth such message he was sending. The other three went unanswered, which was a horrifically bad sign.

A knock on his office door interrupted his panicked scrambling. Frustrated, he threw the door open, prepared to scold an employee for disturbing him, but upon recognizing his visitor he fell silent- whether out of respect or fear was unknown.

"You are Marcus O'Connor, correct?" the silver tabby mewed in a low voice. Marcus felt transfixed by the newcomer's piercing golden stare.

"Yes," was his only response. The visitor nodded curtly, then stepped into the office without further invitation. He held in his right paw a blue peaked cap, and his left was balled into a loose fist. He glanced over his shoulder and flicked his tail.

"Come sit down. And close the door. I need to have a talk with you," he said softly. His tone of his voice clearly indicated that it wasn't a request. Marcus, with his ears pinned back, obliged and sat uncomfortably behind his desk. 

"Alaric, sir, we have no clue how it hap-" Marcus began. Alaric cut him off by raising his paw, claws extended. 

"I'm not here to talk about the meltdown itself. I have already been informed of what's going on, and the General has sent in special forces to evacuate the area. Containment is not of my concern. What I'm here to talk about is where we go from here," he said, placing his cap on the desk in front of his chair. Marcus shifted uncomfortably.

"With all due respect, Mr. Herman, we just experienced a nuclear meltdown, my prime concern is with the residents of the area," he protested calmly. Alaric glared darkly at Marcus over the rims of his glasses.

"I'm not asking for your opinion on that, am I?" Alaric challenged with a baring of his teeth. The light from the office lamp caused the multitude of obscure decorations on the silver tabby's pristine blue uniform to glitter like coins.

Marcus gritted his teeth. Already he was stressed; a visit from a government official was not going to make things better. "Fine. What do you want to talk about, then?" he groaned, eyeing the telegraph.

"I'm sure you're aware of what the other nations of the world think of us. They were reluctant to let us have a nuclear program in the first place," Alaric muttered. He helped himself to a cup of the catnip tea that Marcus had been preparing for himself; the latter was too nervous to object. 

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"So... what does that mean for my company?" Marcus meowed with concern. Alaric took a sip of the drink before responding.

"If it can be helped? Nothing. We can't let the press bring this out of the country," he explained plainly. Marcus took a moment to process the sentence before his eyes widened.

"You want to cover this up?" he breathed in disbelief. Sure, Lyncala's government had taken desperate measures before, but this was something completely out of bounds. Alaric, however, seemed pleased that Marcus had put two and two together so easily.

"Yes. If the rest of the world hears about this, our supply of ore will be cut off and we'll be sanctioned like hell." Alaric grabbed a sugar cube from the saucer on the desk and plopped it in his tea. Dumbfounded, Marcus stood and began pacing the office.

"How do you expect we'll cover up a NUCLEAR MELTDOWN? So many cats are already dead. We can't just pretend they never existed! Some of us have family in other countries, you know, and sooner or later the relatives are going to start searching for their kin." He wrinkled his nose and placed a paw on his hip. 

Alaric narrowed his eyes. "Leave the bigger problems to the government. What I'm asking of you is to prevent the press from getting their grimy paws on any of the related information. The public will come to your company for answers. The less they know, the lower the chances of other countries catching wind of it are." 

Marcus swallowed uncomfortably and lowered his head in defeat. "You're asking me to lie to people about what happened to their families."

"Not lie, just withhold the information. Destroy it if you can. I will not hesitate to take action if these measures are disobeyed," Alaric hissed in a low voice. He lifted the edge of his overcoat, allowing Marcus to catch a brief glimpse of the pistol holstered on his hip. "Am I clear?"

The bedraggled tom didn't respond immediately. He'd lost family overseas. He knew what it was like to not know what happened to people he cared about. Now he was being asked- no, being outright commanded, to do the same thing. For a brief moment he wanted to say no. But he knew how that road ended: with his body dumped in a gutter and a bullet in his skull. Alaric would get his way no matter what he did. Besides, he had a wife and kids. He wanted to get home to them tonight.

And so with that he reluctantly nodded. Alaric finished his tea and retrieved his cap from the desk, satisfied. He stood and held out his right paw; Marcus shook it with a heavy heart.

"You've made a good decision, Mr. O'Connor," Alaric said coolly as he made a beeline for the door. Before he exited, though, he looked back at Marcus.

"One other thing. I was never here tonight. You spoke to a member of the Nuclear Safety Board and gave them a disaster report. The Vipers were not here." He stared at Marcus expectantly, his eyes cold and unfeeling.

"Yes sir," Marcus whimpered softly. Without another word Alaric slipped out of the room, shutting the door behind him with an almost inaudible click.

And yet despite him leaving Marcus could still feel the ghost of his presence lingering, looming over him. He grabbed the mostly-full teakettle and dumped its contents down the drain of the sink. He couldn't drink it. It was dirty. 

Sighing, he sat in his office chair and rolled it over to the window. Again he pecked at the telegraph. Message number five. Maybe this one would be received. 

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