The walls were tinged with the oily soot of past fires and the grimy outgrowths of mildew.Tubes and bulkheads ran left to right, wired and pillars hung top to bottom.On four stacked levels were engraved alcoves.The oval portals were either lit or blacked-out, in user or empty.

The floor was sloped in a gentle v-shape.The stone and dirt was littered with torn rags, withered bones, steaming cesspools and running streams.Creatures unknown to the urbanites crawled about the remains and sludge of that mess on six or eight legs, eyes large and dark, bodies long and thin.

Whistles rung, plumes of white, gray smoke sprayed out of tiny, sharply-edged openings into air.Gray, frothy foam trickled from the sound-horns to the riveted pipes and collected around numerous indentations.Across the sea of time, past uncharted ages, the vile fluids had corroded the ironworks and reduced the steel to flaky shards of red-brown rust.

The workers in the cubbyholes put away the implements of labor and filed out into near, slow-moving lines.They marched in-step to the demonic timings of mechanical rhythms, they walked on from shapeless forms of moving shadows.Catwalks and loosely-held ladders resounded with the scuffle of their retreating to the hives at the end of their shift.

The men that left were exhausted and lethargic, even the new batch of throwbacks that entered the station was tired and dejected.

Pumalo stood at his post.He rotated the arms of the relay and aimed the arrows straight up -- but just when he was ready to turn on the power switch, he noticed an unusual sight at the recess of the antechamber.He paused and studied the mounded pile of scraps with his eyes.Sensing no movement he approached the heap.

The man-cat growled and pulled the cover back.“No!” he almost shouted as he saw the lion-cub unconscious on the stone floor.He shook him awake gently, picking him up by the shoulders, asking in whisper repeatedly:“What are you doing here?”

Kara rubbed his eyes and saw the throwback’s face emerge from the oblivion of dream to the harshness of reality.Yet, for the first time in a long time a smile came to his lips.He was about to speak but the stern shouts of a foreman interrupted his train of thought.

In immediate response Pumalo turned from the teenager to the relay.He told his friend to stay in the corner until the overseer had passed the area.He turned on the apparatus and with that the labor began.The toil was slow-going at the start but he was diligent and unerring.

The puma tried to pay no attention, to arouse no concern when at last the foreman had reached his section.The supervisor merely peeked into the alcove’s elliptical entrance and, seeing nothing suspicious, nothing inappropriate, he moved on to the next relay.Only when he was sure that the overseer had exited the chamber did he put the instrument on standby and moved to sit next to the young lion.

He was struck by how different Kara looked.The wry cub struggled to his feet.He had been asleep for hours but even that long lapse of rest had not alleviated his sore body, indeed, it had only aggravated his discomfort.

“I hope you’re not mad,” he said, his voice unnaturally soft and timid.

“No, not mad, but surprised.”He smiled and seeing his friend’s eyes well he tried to wipe away the tears.But the slightest, gentlest touch was unbearably painful to the young lion and he winced in shock.“What’s wrong?What’s happened to you?”

“I look different, don’t I?”He grabbed the man-cat around the shoulders and clasped him in a tight embrace.“Pumalo, I have no where to go.”

“Surely,” he said, patting the youth’s red mane, “you must have someone, somewhere.”

“Look at me, I can’t possibly live in that city.No, I’m alone -- I didn’t tell you everything about me.”He paused and drew back.“I don’t know how to begin, so I’ll be blunt.My father is Phaeton, the Lord of the Thundercats.I am or was in line to inherit --“

The deformed puma eased back in an odd mixture of fear and reverence.“Um,” he struggled to find the words as he let go of the teenager.“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have --“

“Don’t be sorry,” he reached for the nervous Thunderian and his touch was met with no resistance, “I’m one of you -- I can’t go back, Metropolis is a lie.Everything’s clear and nothing can be like it once was.The break is permanent.”He hung his head, half-in and half-out of shame: “My father showed me we are both throwbacks and I told him I love Caesar.”

The puma rubbed the side of his head against Kara’s:“Truth be told,” he purred, “I always thought there was something different about you.”

Kara smiled but quickly tried to hide his face.Pumalo brought the youth’s hands away and uncovered his features.The young lion’s character and profile had transformed considerably -- the jaw and nose had changed, metamorphosized from the common, humanoid type to a cross between that which was accepted by society and that which it had rejected, that ancient quality of those on the other side of enlightenment.Blood had oozed from the eyes and dried patches remained clung to the fur of the upper lip.

“How could you tell, Pumalo?”

The puma wrapped his mighty arms around the youth and gave him a quick, playful kiss on the cheek.“We know each other,” he laughed, “we just do.”

The lion giggled -- the relay’s buzzer sounded.

It was an alarm that could not be ignored, the device could not be left to run idle forever.The puma arose to his feet and manned the instrument.The work was rough but as time passed the pace slowed.

“It’s still the early morning around here,” he said, positioning the hands.“The relays aren’t too bad at this time of day.Have you gone to see Caesar?”

Kara shook his head: “I tried to find him last night but he wasn’t at the hospital and no one there had heard from him all day.”

“Hmmm,” the older male cat mused, “is it unusual?”

“Very -- I think.”The frightening memory of that faceless man following him resurfaced -- he had thought it was a dream, a nightmare but it was real, all too real.He shut his eyes and shook his head.“Soldiers from the Amazonian guard are looking for him.”

“To harm him?” the worker paused for a moment.“I kill him?”

The fallen noble answered:“I wouldn’t be surprised -- my father must be framing him, trumping-up or inventing charges just to destroy him, just because --“ he walked up to Pumalo and asked in hushed tones:“Will there be a meeting today?”

“Yes, there should be.”He whisked the relay’s arms around left and right as the bells and lights indicated.“I’ll take you with me.”

He rubbed the puma’s short, soft fur, purring to himself, “I can wait, it’ll give me time to think.”But the gravity of his situation was too much even for a Thundercat of his resolve and determination to handle.“I don’t know what to do,” he lamented, “what will become of me?”

“You’ll be one, like the rest of us all.And if Caesar’s life is in danger, we can hide him too.Things can live forever down here and never be noticed, Kara,” he fretted the young lion’s red locks, “ever.”

The ruins of Cat’s Lair remained undisturbed, untouched, nearly two miles below the parched surface of Third Earth.Like much from the early days of the Thundercat’s arrival, the building was thought to have been a myth and its creator, Tygra, no more that a figment of imagination.It was even rumored among the historians that Liono, too, was a figure from obscure tall-tales.Certainly the stories of his exploits -- or, if it was to be believed, his sword’s exploits -- were generally considered to be too ridiculous, too contrived to be real.

Sadly, that uncivilized age was said to be so far removed, so distant from the current era of progress that not only had most of the genuine history been lost but also and to a great extent purposefully forgotten.Considering the stature of Metropolis, it was easier to believe Thunderia’s exodus to Third Earth had been a planned and well-coordinated affair.That the mingling of the felines and the humans was an instantaneous process, devoid of centuries of strife and slow, gradual evolution.

And for their own part the Amazonians were not too eager to write in their history books about their meager, arboreal existence or about the strange and unexplained segregation of their sexes.It seemed better to consider themselves a race of noble, peace-loving kingdoms that always had the potential for greatness -- but that it was not until the Mutant and Lunatac Wars that the sleeping giant of their genius had awoke.

Even MummRa, the Ever-Living, even he had been cast aside by the educated and elite of the city.Little did they know that it was by design by the ancient one himself.How better to work the forces of evil but in secret?How better to be crafty but without watching eyes at constant vigil?

The mummy watched the scene unfold before his circular pool of boiling blood and unhallowed ingredients.The stew fumed and in the spreading wake of its froth he saw a mob of throwbacks file into the massive cavern.A dry smile came to his shriveled lips.A low, thunderous roar echoed in the sarcophagus chamber.

The ancient spirits of evil waited patiently for their hour of vindication.

Kara walked into the deep cavern next to Pumalo.The two made their way around the rows of seated works to the back of the makeshift auditorium where they had been before.The lion did not bow his head low, he had little reason to anymore.The chamber was semi-dark and the shadows hid his features -- and what hints of his character that did show were quite strikingly akin to the throwback in nature.

Still, the changes had not been complete and his head ached.He knew his nose was bleeding but he dared not wipe the stains for fear of the pain that the touch would cause him.

The puma found an isolated spot not far from the rugged walls.Without a word he sat down on the rocks and helped the lion sit beside him.

A lion-tiger was almost done with his speech when he added:“Time and space,” he spoke with the mellow-gruff tones of an older Thunderian, “existence itself are all illusions.Nothing ever dies, nothing ever goes away.Those who have come before us, those who we have known and have left us are not dead. The world that once existed on Third Earth exists still.The past where such things are true is as real as our present, as certain as our future.It is only our limited nature that makes it inaccessible.We are free men, freer than those who claim to be our masters.We--“

The black-haired man stepped out of the side of the fallen head of the lair -- he had been pacing and throwing up dust.“’We,’ Solon?And what are you?What is that ‘we’?”

Kara immediately noticed what was wrong.Besides the unusual tone, it was the eyes -- the glowing, wet orbs of hazel were dry and red.

“I’ll tell you what they say,” he pointed up, violently, “to them you are nothing and you will remain nothing.You already know your past, do you want me to tell you about your future?Imagine the boot of your Thunderian master, stomping out the face of all who’ll ever come after you.What keeps you alive?What stops them from eliminating you all?Ah, yes, the machines, they need you to run the machines.But soon, soon they’ll have machines that do that too and then what further use will they have for you?That’s your future, pretty site, isn’t it?”

The audience gasped.Kara turned to Pumalo -- his friend was tense in shock.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” the youth whispered.“That’s not like him --“

“My friends, I have known you for a long time, longer than anyone and I consider no one in this world more important than you,” he lay a hand on Solon’s arm as if to console him, “that’s why it pains me to say this -- no, I failed to understand myself the depths of evil that the citizens of Metropolis were capable of.”He returned his attention to the throngs.“Yesterday, as I was walking along the streets I witnessed a demonstration.An inventor had just unveiled to the press and public his latest creation.A worker robot, one, he claimed, that was flawless, one that needed no rest.It, he said, could toil in the hives forever and ever without the needs and amenities of living beings and, better still, without the mind or spirit to rebel.”

A throwback in the front row stood and roared:“No!That’s impossible!”

The human with dark eyes walked forward and placed his hands around the worker’s face, drawing back his mane.Almost in tears he spoke:“I know, I know.It seems incredible, doesn’t it?How could it be?How could they, what were they thinking?Oh, but how they’ve been thinking.Year after year, decade to decade, centuries heaped one upon the other they have struggled to create such a thing and now, now at last they have succeeded.”He buried his face in his hands, weeping loudly:“What will they do to you?What will they do?”

A group of weary panthers came to their feet and rushed the stage.“Caesar,” one shouted, “say the word and it shall be done.”

“My friends, I have never advocated violence -- but that was --“

Echoes of ‘violence’ reverberated through the site.

Pumalo stood and, helping Kara up, said:“It’s wrong, I can sense it.I don’t know how but I know it’s not right.”

“We can’t sit still.They who whip and torture you know only pain and it’s with pain that we must answer them.We must destroy the base upon which their power rests -- those infernal machines.”

“Yes, the machines!” a lion roared, raising his clenched fist in defiance above the crowd.“Destroy the machines!”

“Flee the underworld, storm the surface and destroy their centers of business, their peace and way of life.Shake them to core,” he growled, “break their chains!”

But the call to action was not met with universal acclaim and even as the fiery man spoke small clusters of workers evacuated the chamber.

“We’ll go to the others and tell them, they’ll be willing to help us.”

“Make it so -- take out anyone who interferes, whether it’s a foreman sell-out or a throwback who wants to remain a slave -- let him die a slave.”

“I don’t like where this is going,” Pumalo whispered -- Kara nodded.

The young lion could not believe what he was hearing.Every impulse in him wanted to do something about it.He had failed with his father, he had said nothing to the soldiers and he was determined not to fail a third time.

The large cat dragged him toward the back of the vault despite the fact that the exits were already clogged.The teenager lagged backward, his stare pointed straight at the black-haired man.Their eyes suddenly met and for a moment he saw a glimmer of red shine through the hazel orbs.

“That’s not Caesar,” he shouted, “that’s not Caesar!”

In the loud throng of the mob his words all but fell on deaf ears.

But the figure heard:“He’s one of them!” he pointed and the others turned to see.“Get him!”

“No, Kara,” he picked up the teenager and draped him over his back.The crowd, heated by its ring leader into action, had begun to encircle them.Already the exits were unreachable and the only open space left was at the back of the cavern.The darkness afforded no reassurance, their eyes were accustomed to the weak, blue illumination.“We’re in it deep, cub.”

“Wait, I see -- keep walking back,” six feet above the ground he was able to see things that otherwise he would have been oblivious to.“It’s an opening on the wall.”

“Can you see where it leads?”

“Too dark -- no.”

“Well, it’s all we’ve got.”

The lion grabbed hold of the alcove’s jagged edge.He discovered with his hands that it was hollow.He quite easily pulled himself in.The confines were deep and a slight draft of air circulated within.

“It’s a tunnel,” he said, poking his head out.He saw that the mob was getting near, dangerously near.“Get in,” his voice barely rose above the shouts of the approaching crowd.

Kara extended his hand -- Pumalo took it and laughed.

The puma took hold of the rocky edge, the young lion held his shoulders and gave him the leverage to scale the short height.It was difficult for the throwback, despite his strength, only because of his great bulk.He shoved his leg into the hole -- the cub seized his waist and helped him roll into the tunnel.

“You’re safe, you’re safe,” he said, hugging the man-cat.

“Yes, we are, but not for long -- run!“

The roaring throwbacks had reached the site of the alcove but it was too late -- they had already lost interest in the two.

Kara and Pumalo trekked through the tunnel, stopping rarely to catch their breath.The passage was thin but they were the only ones there so it was not a problem to maneuver through the tight squeezes.The two followed the gradual upslope of the nearly-level flooring.The walls were not rough but smooth and even -- it was not a natural occurrence but it was not until they had reached an entire section of steps that it was apparent that the tunnel had been dug out by hand.

For the longest time they heard the battle cries of the workers -- distant and muffled, dampened by the substance of the walls.Explosions and cries of terror followed, the ground rumbled and loose particles from the ceiling rained upon them.But as they traveled deeper and deeper, they eventually reached an area where there was relative quiet.

Another tunnel merged into theirs -- a light came from its end and without wavering the pair ran to it.

“What is this place?” the large cat asked as he emerged into the other side of the darkness.

It was a room, small and cramped with books, broken desks and chairs.Scattered at the corner were discarded shelves.To one side was a thin, horizontal window almost on the edge of the wall and the room, to the other side was a locked, wooden door.

“Let’s close up the hole,” the lion suggested and the puma complied.

Everything in the room that room was moved and set in place before the oval-shaped portal.The plug was unstable but heavy and tightly convoluted.It would have taken an impressive labor to remove it.

“The whole world’s going to hell, Pumalo and I don’t know what to do about it.”

The large cat held him in his arms for a fleeting moment of passing comfort -- nervous, too, all he could do was grasp him tighter.