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This is an old story, written around 2004 or so, and never posted here for some reason. It concerns the character of Cecil, a serial killer created for the SWAT Kats universe. It peters out at the end, but otherwise to this date I think it's one of my better works.

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Nightime in Megakat City. Cecil Van Albergaster, 28 years old and already looking 38, was traversing the city streets by his lonesome. He was a slender, charcoal-gray tom with short, messy brown hair. His eyes, thanks to his dark fur, stood out like bright lights in the middle of his face, looking much larger than they actually were.

Cecil was worried. He often took walks like this late at night, because he needed to do something, anything, to avoid thinking the awful thoughts that filled his head at practically all hours of the day. The thoughts that made bad things happen that Cecil was powerless to control. Only in the quiet hours of the night as Cecil able to find something resembling peace, so long as he kept walking and avoided contact with other kats.

The downside of his nightly excursions was that he did not sleep much, and this took its toll on his appearance. He had a haunted look that most people found to be unnerving, including himself sometimes when he looked in the mirror. His unkempt appearance often got him into trouble with his boss, Mr. Stern, who apparently felt that even though their customers never even had to *see* them, his employees still needed to look neat and tidy.

As he walked, Cecil stared at the ground, focusing his attention on bits of garbage, dead leaves, cigarette butts, anything that would hold his attention. He would walk until he got tired, then return to his apartment and go to sleep. He had been walking for nearly an hour now, and was starting to feel his eyelids getting heavy. He yawned deeply. He was just about to turn around and start home, to go and crawl into bed and sleep peacefully for the first time in a long while because this night had passed without incident, when he heard footsteps.

Horrified, he looked up and saw an older kat in a business suit and hat, wearing glasses and carrying a briefcase, coming towards him from the opposite direction. As always, Cecil was overcome with a strange mixture of relief and fear. He briefly entertained the notion of crossing the street to avoid the kat, but it seemed that fate was in no mood to spare him tonight, for the kat called out to him.

"Excuse me," he said. Cecil ignored him and stepped off the sidewalk. "Hey! I only want a minute of your time," continued the kat. Cecil's darker feelings won over, and he paused, but did not turn to face him.

"Yes?" he said. Currently, he had both his paws stuffed into the pockets of his windbreaker. He could feel the handle of the steak knife in his right pocket. He heard the other fellow step up behind him, hunching his shoulders forward somewhat in response.

"I was wondering if you had the time?" he asked. When Cecil did not reply, he added, in a cheerful and friendly manner that made Cecil want to break down into tears, "You see, it's the darndest thing, I left my watch at the office, and I have to be home by ten, so I was wondering if you knew what time it was."

"N--No, I'm sorry. I--I, uh, I forgot my watch, too. In fact, I don't even have one." It was the truth. The only clock Cecil owned was an electronic clock radio on his bedside table. He waited for the other kat to respond, silently begging him to leave.

"Oh," he said, and Cecil imagined him shrugging. "Thanks anyway. Have a nice night." Cecil heard him turn on heel and start walking off in the direction he'd been going.

Turning, Cecil stared intently at the departing kat's back for an entire minute. When the there was roughly twenty feet of distance between the two, Cecil pulled the steak knife from his pocket. A quick glance around in all directions revealed that, aside from a snoozing hobo across the street, he was alone with his victim. He paid the homeless kat no mind; probably so drunk he wouldn't even wake up when it happened. Besides, this would only take a few seconds before it would be over.

Gripping the knife's handle firmly in his palm, Cecil turned and trotted silently after the other kat. His loafers made almost no noise on the cement sidewalk, and what sound they did make was masked by the considerably louder footsteps of his victim's dress shoes. When he was less than two feet from him, the other kat, apparently sensing the danger, began to turn. Seeing Cecil coming out of the corner of his eye, he gasped loudly.

Before he could fully turn however, Cecil slammed into him. This sent them both stumbling forwards. The briefcase flew from the kat's hands and hit the sidewalk, where it popped open and spilled all manner of papers all over the place. Cecil wrapped his left arm around the startled, struggling kat's neck, getting him into a headlock.

"Hey!" he cried. "What the hell do you think you're--" He was cut off as Cecil drove the knife into his midsection, and his words quickly turned into choking, gurgling cries of pain. Cecil stabbed him, repeatedly, in the chest and stomach, soaking his expensive-looking suit, and the sleeve of his own jacket, in blood. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears welling up in them as he began to cry.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into the dying kat's ear. "I'm so, so sorry..."

The kat's only response was a half-hearted struggle and a gurgling sound from his throat. Cecil could tell he was coughing up gouts of blood. His victim's knees buckled and he collapsed forwards to land face-down on the sidewalk, taking Cecil with him. Cecil ended up on top of the dead kat, straddling his back. There was no more movement from the unfortunate kat who had only wanted to know the time. Cecil pulled the knife - and his paw - out from underneath the corpse. Looking at the blood-soaked blade in his blood-soaked hand, he burst into tears of simultaneous joy and sorrow. He licked the blade clean with such a ferocity that he was amazed his didn't accidentally cut his own tongue.

He sat there for a few moments longer, and when he finally calmed down and stopped crying Cecil looked about himself again. They were still alone, but he knew they wouldn't be for long.

He saw an alley to his left. It didn't look very clean, and Cecil was appalled at the thought of doing what he was about to do there of all places, but his needs had to be met or else he would not be able to function at work tomorrow or any other day until he killed again. He dragged the body with some effort into the alley, leaving a trail of blood from the spot where the kat had fallen. Anyone coming along would see it and immediately check the alley, so Cecil had but a few precious moments.

"Just a quick snack tonight," he told himself. The knife he'd used to kill his victim now served another purpose, but he was too hungry to bother with the time-consuming act of carving the body up, and eventually he threw the knife aside and dug in with his teeth.

A short time later, his clothes soaked in drying blood, the wide-eyed tom, fearing for his very life, abandoned the body and hurried home. He made it back without being seen, something which both relieved and disappointed him at the same time...