Thundercats Fanfiction Project (Ch 2, Episode 2)

In this episode, the ThunderCats reach the hangar. Kinship is tested, and duty demands sacrifice. Torn garments, broken bonds, and final words echo through fire as covenant is sealed in grief…

Bonds in the Hangar

Book 1 – Exile and Vigil – Chapter 2, Episode 2

Tygra, Cheetara, and Panthro had fought their way to the hangar. Their noble robes were torn and scorched by battle and flame, their bodies marked with bruises, burns, cuts, and scrapes. Sweat clung to them, the air thick with smoke and the metallic scent of blood. Their ears twitched and angled with every distant explosion, instinctively tracking danger even as exhaustion weighed on their limbs.

Tygra’s forest‑green robe, trimmed with bronze, was ripped and blackened, his belt clasp scorched, his orange‑and‑black hair streaked with ash. Cheetara’s golden hair was singed at the edges, her silver‑white garments stained with Mutant blood. Panthro’s shaved head bore scorched skin, his dark attire torn by blades and fire. Their garments were proof of the struggle they had endured.

Nobles rushed into the ships of the convoy—among them Lynx‑O, Pumyra, and Bengali, boarding with their kin. But into the royal ship, only the three ThunderCats entered.

Cheetara took the pilot’s seat at the very front of the bridge, the only true window before her. Her hands were steady as she activated the vessel, though her ears flicked in sharp, anxious motions, mapping every vibration through the hull as the engines and radar powered on.

Behind her stood the central command station, broad and elevated. To the left was the systems console; to the right, the weapons station. Behind the command seat was the communications post, and beyond that, rows of padded chairs for nobles and officials.

As Cheetara looked down, she saw the dark streaks across her garments — Mutant blood, splattered during the fight in the palace corridors. Her pupils tightened in revulsion, and the fine sensory fur along her arms lifted. The sight of that blood on her skin made her stomach twist. Not because she feared blood, but because it was theirs, a reminder of the creatures who had desecrated her home.

With a sharp breath, she tore the stained fabric from her body and cast it aside, her ears flattening in instinctive rejection of the scent clinging to it.

Panthro and Tygra exchanged a glance — their ears angling in the same solemn tilt of agreement, not hesitation but understanding. Their own ceremonial robes were scorched, torn, and heavy with the smoke of the palace... and stained with flecks of Mutant blood. Without a word, they stripped them off as well, tugging away the last remnants of courtly attire. They removed their soft leather shoes too, letting them drift to the floor with the discarded cloth.

Thunderans wore no clothing in daily life; garments were reserved for nobles, priests, and formal ceremony. Those robes had belonged to a world that no longer existed.

In shedding them, they shed the palace, the court, the expectations — everything that had died behind them.

They stood as warriors now — ears forward, shoulders squared, their bodies settling into the instinctive posture of Thunderan readiness.

Bare.

Unburdened.

United in purpose.

Panthro manned the weapons, activating the ship’s arsenal. Lasers calibrated to intercept missiles and enemy craft. Heavy guns aligned for close‑range defense. Long‑range missiles armed. A small reserve of nuclear warheads remained locked behind safety seals. Radar swept the skies as Thunderan fighter craft held the Mutants at bay.

Tygra oversaw the ship’s systems—energy shields capable of blocking lasers and detonating missiles, though bullets could still pierce with diminished force. Life support hummed steadily. Artificial gravity, powered by Thunderan Gyro‑Mysticism—a refined branch of Thunderan Mystic Tech—held firm. Power flowed from Thundrillium reactors fused with controlled fusion cores.

Together they prepared the vessel for flight, their torn garments lying discarded, their covenant renewed in silence.

In the chaos, each sought their kin.

Tygra sent audio and text messages to his wife, but no reply came. His ears lowered by degrees with each unanswered call, an involuntary descent into dread.

Panthro reached his father and brothers by audio—they reported boarding a vessel in their home town. Cheetara connected by video to her parents, who were still at home, waiting for evacuation. Though she pleaded with them to flee sooner, they urged her not to give up hope, and to fulfill her duty as a ThunderCat.

Tears streamed down her face as she obeyed, her breath hitching in soft, involuntary purr‑vibrations — the Thunderan reflex for overwhelming emotion. She sobbed yet remained resolute.

When the calls ended, Tygra’s heart ached with worry. Panthro forced reassurance into his voice, though fear lingered. His jaw tightened, and his ears flicked backward for a heartbeat before he steadied them. “My father and my brothers will make it.”

Cheetara’s parents’ final words echoed in her mind: "You are a ThunderCat. Fulfill your duty." She wished she were fast as lightning, able to run to them and bring them aboard—but in her heart she sensed that fate would not be kind.

The engines hummed. The bridge lights steadied. The ship was ready.

But they did not depart.

They waited—for Jaga, for the royal family, and for Jagara. Their ears remained angled toward the hangar entrance, listening for footsteps that never came. They believed all three would arrive at any moment, unaware that fate had already begun to sever the bonds they hoped to preserve.

***

“Thus in the hangar, bonds were tested—kinship torn by war, yet sealed by duty. Their tears became covenant, their grief became strength, and the Spirit marked them as ThunderCats.”

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Disclaimer

This work is a piece of fan fiction inspired by the ThunderCats franchise. All characters, settings, and original concepts from ThunderCats are the property of their respective rights holders. I do not own the rights to ThunderCats, nor do I claim any affiliation with its owners. This story is a transformative retelling created for creative expression and audience engagement, not as a commercial product.

AI Collaboration Statement

In creating this work, I made use of Microsoft Copilot, a tool that helped inscribe my vision into narrative form. I remain the visionary and architect of this saga, shaping its mythic framework, themes, and direction. Copilot served as the writer, giving voice to my design. I then revised and refined its drafts, making further changes to ensure the saga reflects my vision in full. This stands as a creative collaboration in honor of the original ThunderCats universe.