Dear DJ Clawson,
Hi there, it’s me Nick, again, and I’ve written another fanfic! Oh. mercy! It’s called “SWAT Kats: Freelance Police”, it’s also in 2 parts and attached to this e-mail. Please post it up, no hurry. Review “Sam and Max meet T-Bone and Razor, and they do stuff together.” Or, you can write a review for yourself. Your opinion on it would be appreciated greatly. Oh, by the way, what’s this about a book being rejected? Yours SWAT Katily, Nicholas (haven’t got a cathcy nickname yet) Ball. “SWAT Kats: Freelance Police”
A SWAT Kats/Sam and Max CrossThingy by Nicholas Ball.
The Lowdown: OK, so you all know who the SWAT Kats are (No? Then what are you doing on the SWAT Kats Fanfic page? ), but some of you might’nt know who Sam and Max are. To those of you who don’t, I say this: Shame on you! Sam and Max was probably one of the best computer games ever (my all-time fav) and their comics are the best I’ve ever seen. I’ve got “The collected Sam & Max: Surfin’ the Highway” by Steve Purcell. It’s all the S&M comics in one book, and the only comic book you’ll EVER need to buy. I mean that. They’ve got an animated series coming out soon, too (details anyone?) Go to a Sam and Max site now, just to see what you’re missing out on. Here’s a short profile: Sam: An anthropomorphic dog. He stands at about 6 feet, wears the same suit always and is the reasonable part of the team. Max: A “hyperkinetic rabbity-type thing”. He is about 3/4 the size of Sam, wears no clothes and is a dangerous psychopath. Freelance Police: What S&M work for. S&M get a call from the commisioner, go out on some case, solve it through their own unique mix of thinking and not-thinking, and return home. Oh, and Max usually gets to bite some- thing. Sam “I love making a racket, it’s one of my favourite parts of this job.” Max “I love discharging unregistered firearms within city limits.”
If you have heard of Sam and Max, see if you can pick up all the quotes I’ve placed in the dialog. Some of this story is frighteningly similar to Jade F. Callan’s “Partners In Time”, and I thank her for the inspiration and death threats.
This fanfic is dedicated to whoever wants it.
“Damn clouds” muttered T-Bone as he flew the TurboKat over MegaKat city, passing through a prime example of “Cumulus nimbus”. “Hey, the clouds are the reason we flew out here today” returned Razor. “We need to test out the dimensional radar, I’ve fixed it since last time, so that if we’re zapped by lightening again, we won’t change the entire probability curve of the universe again and endanger the future of all humanity.”
“Did you say ‘humanity’?” T-Bone asked.
“Sorry – ‘Katity’”.
“So”, said T-Bone, moving on, “how did you fix the radar?”
“Well”, began Razor, “it was pretty easy. All I did was focus the dimensional radar so that it functioned from a particular point, a hub, and made the universe revolve around that hub so that if we were zapped by some lightening again, then one of us would be taken to another universe, and be replaced by someone from that one”
“Why did you arrange it so one of us would be taken to a parallel universe if we were struck by lightening, and then make me fly about in these storm clouds?” asked T-Bone incredulously, with an obsequious hint.
“Hey, plot points are difficult to develop”
“Okay”, T-Bone conceeded, “I think I see a good cloud over there”
They flew on, in search of a bolt of lightening.
“Damn clouds” muttered Max.
“What’s that about clouds, little buddy?” said Sam, raising his voice so it could be heard over the drone of the DeSoto engine.
“I was just cursing at some helpless object for no apparent reason”
“Oh, I thought you remarking about the weather”
“The weather? Why would I talk about the weather?”. Max leant out of the window to get a better look at the sky.
“Careful you don’t fall out. We don’t want an incident like that one on the freeway again”
“How else was I able to check if the boot was shut properly without – Ooh! A prime example of “Cumulus nimbus”!”
“Where?” asked Sam, craning his head to look.
“I hate it when you crane your head to look”
“Sorry. Hey, is that a rain cloud forming?” commented Sam.
“Hey, you’re right! That IS a rain cloud forming!” answered Razor.
“Should I fly into it?” asked T-Bone.
“No, you’d better hover below it, we don’t wanna get TOO close”
“Affirmative”, replied T-Bone, and he did so.
“What are you SWAT Kats doing there?” the radio announced.
“Feral?” asked Razor.
“Yes, it’s Commander Feral. I repeat – what are you doing there?”
“We’re waiting, Feral, there’s no law against that” remarked T-Bone.
“Oh, yes there is! If I wanted, I could haul you two in for loitering!” retorted the Enforcer.
“Loitering? C’mon, Feral, you can do better than that”
“Alright then, I’ll have you for loitering AND the driving of an unregistered vehicle”
“Unregistered vehicle? You can’t register a plane” said Razor.
“True” Feral conceeded, “but you have to be in possession of a valid license to operate a vehicle. Where are your licenses?” “Oh, give it a break, Feral! We’re just waiting so we can be hit by lightening! Is there any law against being struck by lightening?” asked T-Bone, with an edge to his voice.
“Lightening? No, there’s no law against being hit by lightening. In fact, I wish you two the best of luck. However, if that’s all that you’re here to do, then you won’t mind me waiting here also, now, will you?”
“No, Commander Feral, we won’t mind at all. Just back up so that we don’t have to share our bolt with you” answered Razor, mustering politeness.
“Are you telling an Enforcer what to do?”
“No, not at all. Please, stay here in the bolt range with us, we wouldn’t dream of hogging all that electricity to ourselves without sharing a few thousand volts around, would we, Razor?” said T-Bone sarcastically.
“Oh, no, we couldn’t do that. If Feral wants to be hit by lightening also, then we can’t stop him” replied Razor.
Feral’s chopper backed off a considerable distance.
“Jerk” muttered T-Bone.
“I heard that!” called Feral.
“According to this spectaculator, we *should* get some major lightening happening within about 5 minutes” said Razor.
“We’ll, let’s get ready to shock and roll, buddy.”
“Max, is that motorcycle still rattling around down there?”
“Uh, I think it’s mostly gone now.”
“Good! Now get back in your carseat before you fall out the window”
A writer sits at his computer, typing some particular paragraph. Some music show is on, but “The Distance” by Cake is running through his head, even though he hasn’t heard it for days. The Hamlet essay he wrote not a few hours ago runs somewhere in his mind, as does the 3 mark question he didn’t answer in his Tacitus “The Annals Of Imperial Rome” booklet. A bit of an Animaniacs episode plays in some corner, whilst the sadistic antics of Tom and Jerry compete to claim center stage. He’s a mental jukebox, it’s just that most of the CD’s are warped, scratched or missing. He momentarily glances at his watch, and sees that it’s 11:03 PM on a Sunday night, with school tomorrow. Self-awareness suddenly overcomes him:
“Hey! Get the hell out of my dimension!” he says.
And we do so.
“We should be getting that bolt any second now, T-Bone” said Razor, “so brace yourself”.
“Brace myself? You’re the one who goes out cold all the time!” T-Bone returned.
“Point taken, but just be ready, OK?”
“OK” answered Max.
“Then let’s go get those two-bit crims!”. Sam pushed down on the accelerator. Sam and Max screamed down the busy streets of the city (they had to scream – their siren was broken)
“I haven’t been involved in a high-speed chase for quite some time, Sam. It’s quite exciting, and if I didn’t have a natural abundance of adrenalin already, I’d be experiencing quite a ‘rush’ right now”
“What the hell are you babbling about, Max?”
“I like to go fast, Sam.”
“Oh. Steer for me for a minute while I root around in the back for a box of sugar cookies, Max. And tell me if I need to put the brakes on, would you?”
“Vroom! Vroom! Run for safety, foolish pedestrians!”
“Steady! Steady! Any minute now!”
The cloud crackled with energy, searching for some method of releasing the static charge builing up inside it…
Warm air collided with cold air, the friction was unbearable. Soon the fury of Nature would be released…
Electrons aligned, then re-aligned, increasing in charge as they did so…
Maximum electrical capacity approached. Then..
The cloud dissipated and vanished into thin air, as clouds often do.
“Ha! I tricked you! You all thought they’d get struck by lightening and THAT’S how I’d organise a swap between the characters, but you were wrong! You thought that I’d be THAT predictable? I’m insulted…By the way, whilst you were here, being mocked by me, you missed the swap that occurred. What happened was that the Pastmaster sent a blast to the hovering TurboKat, causing the change to take place. The Pastmaster and all of the previous villains, except for Shard, obviously, are now working together to overthrow MegaKat city, as was tried in “Katastrophe”, but this time they’re each going to try their by own means, and whoever wins, well, “winner take all”. The special effects were pretty spectacular, also. Oh, well, back to the events at hand….”
Dimension X: “Krud! We’re under attack! What’s that status report, Razor?”
“I don’t think I’m in Kansas anymore…”
“Huh? Who’s that?” demanded Razor, twisting in his seat to see who was in the back.
Razor was not at ease, to say the least. His head ached, he was dis- oreintated, and…was he in a fast-moving car? Yes, he was in a fast-moving car, and what’s worse, he was driving it. Where was T-Bone? Where was he? What was he doing in the car? What the heck was going on? He swerved the wheel desperately to keep the car in the right lane, and not crashing into the innocent katizens, who turned out not to be katizens at all. They were humans…
“Oh, come on, Razor’s seen humans before. Probably in books or something. Just accept it, ‘kay? I don’t want no “by goshum’s all of these creatures look peculiar” antics. Let’s just be civilized, and get back to Dimension X, Ok?…”
“Who are you? What have you done with Razor? Where is he?”
“I’m Max, an excitable and psychotic little bunny who embarks on all kinds of exciting adventures with Sam, my partner. Where is he, by the way? I thought I was meant to driving a car…but here I am in a some type of jet. I haven’t done anything in particular with a razor, though I once swallowed a sword at the circus. That was the time when I discovered that I was a quite functional umbrella holder. How about you? I’m feeling frisky and jovial.”
“Great”, thought T-Bone, “he’s completely insane. I won’t be getting any answers from him right now”. A beeping sound distracted T-Bone moment- arily. “And I’m low on fuel too. I’ll have to take this guy back to the hangar while I refuel, but how? I can’t let him see where our secret location is…” His thoughts trailed off –
“Can you drive fast, mister? I like that.” asked Max.
T-Bone’s thoughts kick started themselves; “Of, course! Some G’s ought to knock him out cold!”
“It’s beddy bye-bye time, Max” cooed T-Bone, reaching for the Super-Thrusters…
Razor wondered what was wrong, OVERALL. He’d gotten used to the location and the presence of humans. He didn’t know how he’d been brought to this place, as the lightening didn’t strike the TurboKat, but that didn’t concern him too much. What concerned him, overall, was that he was steering…but he wasn’t driving. Steering without driving. His legs were bunched up beneath him, as he was squatting on the seat. He looked down towards the pedals. A pair of feet were resting on them. He followed the feet, and confirmed his suspicions – there were legs attached to them. In fact, the legs were attached to some hips, and a torso would probably be attached to those hips. He couldn’t tell, as the suited person in question was bent double over the seat, in search of something in the back. He then realised that he was travelling faster than 80 km per hour, and he hadn’t looked at the road for a good ten seconds or so to see where he was going. He WAS going to perform the calculation to see how many meters he had travelled at that speed, but he re-realised that he should be looking at the road, so that he could swerve out of the way of that oncoming semi-trailer…
“Max?” asked Sam, trying to climb back into the front again.
4 G’s. That was usually as much as Razor could take before he went out cold. Then again, this “Max” creature was smaller than Razor, and didn’t have his G-suit or breathing appatarus, and T-Bone was worried about the little guy’s welfare. He glanced in his visor’s mirror.
“Wheeee! Faster! Faster!” Max yelled excitedly.
“You’re not unconscious!?!”
Faster. 4.3 G’s. 4.5 G’s. Push it to the edge of the envelope. Only trouble is, that’s where the sticky bit is. 4.8 G’s. T-Bone was beginning to feel the strain himself. 4.9 G’s….
“Hey! Who are you! Where’s Max?”
Sam slammed the brakes on. Razor jumped out of the car, followed my Sam, who now had his gun drawn.
“This is not my day” complained Razor as he ran.
It certainly wasn’t. Sam shot him in the shoulder, pinning him. He lay on the ground, squirming, as he usually did when shot by a dog through the shoulder in an alternate dimension.
“I didn’t want to have to do this, but it’s the only way I could get you to stop. Now tell me what you’ve done with Max or I’ll shoot you again.”
Razor laid there on the pavement, and gave a surprisingly accurate and detailed description of the circumstances and events of that day.
He had blackened out, he was unconscious, he was out cold. The G forces had done him in, the only problem was that ‘he’ was T-Bone. 6.1 G’s – a new personal best and failure. Max had, in the meantime, climbed over the seat and was trying to wake T-Bone up.
“Mister, although I think it’s fun to hurtle through the air at ludicrous speeds with immiment destruction threatening our very livelihoods, I think you should wake up now and steer the jet.”
“Huhn?” mumbled T-Bone, returning to his seventh plain.
“C’mon, wake up! I want to fly this thing myself, but I don’t know how. You could at least teach me.” Max pleaded, before he realised that his ignorance had never stopped him doing anything potentially dangerous before.
“On second thoughts, you have yourself a niiice, loooong rest”.
Max grabbed the control stick and yanked it as hard as he could in the direction of Mecca.
“That’s a very good explanation, Mr…uh, what did you say that your name was?”
“It’s Razor” said Razor. There was not a hint of absteminous fate through self-consciousness) or specious ambiguity in his voice, as though he believed that the events of the day were facetiously altered to suggest serendipitious augury of behalf of whatever deities had deigned to rule. There was none of this at all, as Razor was just saying his name.
“Here, let me help you up. Sorry about shooting you like that, I suppose you’re probably not used to things like that happening”
“Actually, I am. I once shot myself to aid our chances of winning in a certain situation”
“What happened?”, asked Sam.
“I became British”
“Oh, mercy” sympathised Sam. “It wore off, thankfully” responded Razor.
“So, do you think our luck would increase if I shot you again?” asked Sam, raising his gun.
“Relax, little buddy, I was just yankin’ your chain. You’re awful jumpy”, commented Sam.
“Being shot in alternate dimensions does that to you”
“I’ll have to take your word for that. Let’s get that wound seen to. Do you want to drive?” asked Sam, pointing to the DeSoto.
“You can” answered Razor, climbing into the back.
T-Bone came around, and wished he hadn’t. T-Bone found that the rabbity-type thing was up on the dashboard, jerking the controls around as though he was in some cheap arcade machine. Fortunately, no damage had been done, as somehow the auto-pilot had been activated, and the controls weren’t obeying the whims and commands of Max. T-Bone groggily leant forwards, grabbed Max by his torso, and tossed him over his shoulder, back into Razor’s seat.
“Oh, boy!”, Max squealed, “Weapons!”
T-Bone dashed for the “Weapons: Offline” button, reaching it just in time before the TurboKat released a full-arsenalled attack on nothing in particular.
“Hey – none of this stuff works! What a gyp.”
“Listen here, you little long-eared demon, you’ve given me nothing but trouble since you’ve been here, and I would like very much to use you as brake-linings for the TurboKat here, but unfortunately, you’re the only lead I’ve got on what happened to Razor, so why don’t you shut your bizarrely-shaped maw, and let me get on with the flying?”
“That was a rhetorical question, right?”
T-Bone thumped the dashboard.
“I’m no speaking clock here, but I thought that you’d like to know that when you next go to either Dimension X or Y, it will be the next day in both dimensions, and approximately 10 a.m. All four main characters are clued in to what’s going on, and they’re settling into their new environments remarkably well. We now cross, live, to Dimension X, where Max is learning about MegaKat City…”
Max sat on an engine block in the garage, holding a book entitled “See ‘n’ Say – The People Of MegaKat City”. Chance was working on the under-carriage of a car, and only his legs could be seen. Max pushed the button that was next to Commander Feral.
“You vigilante hot-shots! Look at the all the damage those SWAT Kats have created! The Enforcers will handle this! One day, I’m going to put you SWAT Kats behind bars!” boomed Feral’s voice.
“He’s….a baddy?” guessed Max.
“Wrong” Chance commented, “he’s the head of the Enforcers, and technically, a goody. Sure he wants to lock us up and never gives us credit, but he’s a goody.”
“Oh”. Max pushed the button next to Dr Viper.
“Ssss! This Katalyssst will create all the mutationsss I’ll ever need to take over MegaKat Cccity!”
“Right! Try another one”
“Help, SWAT Kats! MegaKat City is under attack!”
“Miss Briggs?!?” asked Chance, alarmed. He slid out from under the car and ran across the hangar. He quickly got into his G-suit and answered the phone.
“What is it, Miss Briggs?? Miss Briggs? Hello? Deputy Mayor?”
Chance looked back over the hangar. Max was hunched over his talking book.
“Was that you?”
“No, it was Miss Briggs. A goody.” said Max, pleased with himself. “Where are you going, incidentally? I thought you were Chance Furlong, ace mechanic, normally. Is there something wrong? Can I come?”
“I’m not going anywhere” growled Chance, climbing out of his suit, and going back to work on the car. Max shrugged his shoulders and looked back to the book, ignorant of what he had just done. It was just as well he didn’t know, or he would have done it again.
“My city! Help! Help! My precious city!” said Mayor Manx.
“He’s a goody.”
“Correct. For an extra point, guess his accent”
“Hmm, not British, or Irish. Welsh..Gaelic..I know! – Is he ‘pretentious’?” asked Max, smiling, as he always did.
“Very funny” answered Chance.
Max pushed another button. Faint-hearted screams were heard. Max looked at the picture next to the button. It was the Enforcer logo.
“What’s the screaming one?” asked Max.
“That’s the Enforcer extra’s. The Enforcers are made up of Commander Feral, Lieutenant Felina Feral, Lieutenant Steel, and the extra’s. The Extra’s job is to fly with all the main characters, and be hit by enemy attack, leaving only the main characters to do the job. If most of the Enforcers weren’t hired to crash, then there probably wouldn’t be any need for the SWAT Kats”
“Oh. That’s the end of book. Now what?”
“Usually I’d have Jake here to help me with the work, either auto work or TurboKat work, but since you’re all I’ve got, you’ll have to help out”
“OK! Do I get to handle power tools?”
“Unfortunately. You get started on this car here. I’ll refuel the TurboKat”
“Right”. Max grabbed a cresent wrench and jumped onto the car.
“Can I borrow some of Max’s stuff? It’s just that I’ve been wearing this stuff since yesterday and-”
“No. You haven’t seen any pictures of Max yet. Max is a little rabbit about half of your height, and he doesn’t wear any clothes, anyway.” Sam added, after thinking – “Though, I have to agree that you need some new and unconspicuous clothes. I’ve got a spare suit..”
“No offence, but I don’t think it’d suit me well. A red ball cap, some nice pants and a loose fitting T-shirt might go better, though..”
“We could go next door, to see if Flint Paper has anything that might fit you. He’s about your height, and he’s skinny too..”
“Well, if it’s no trouble..”
“Oh, Flint’s an old pal of ours, he wouldn’t mind at all”
“Well, let’s go try him.”
They made the short walk out into the corridor and into the room next door. Flint was involved in a fist-fight with a “cheap punk”, but that didn’t concern him much. He finished the punk off, and threw him down the stairs.
“What can I do for you guys? And where’s Max?”
They told him.
“Well, I’m sure that you’ll make a good stand-in partner in the meantime for Max, and any friend of Sam’s is a friend of mine, so take your pick from my wardrobe, with my blessing.”
“Thank you” said the always polite Razor.
Chance walked back into the garage from the hangar. The TurboKat was fine, structually, though it needed to be reload with a few more missiles. The garage was not fine, as he found out. Max had evidently began work on one particular car, then grown tired of it and moved onto another one, until he had grown tired of that one too and the next 2 cars. He was now in the center of the garage. He was wrapped in several wires and a fan belt, and his left foot was in one of the cylinders of an engine. He was using a spanner to bend some unrecognisable object to the point of being even more unrecognisable.
“What are you doing?” asked the horrified Chance.
“I don’t know. I just assumed that I’d fix it if I hit it enough”
5 minutes later…
The plan had worked. Chance grabbed Max and shoved him in the engine cavity with all the parts that was tangled up in. He shut the hood, went round to the driver’s seat and started the engine. For the next 2 minutes the only audible sounds were scraping sounds and Max’s squeals. Then…silence. Max climbed out, and the engine ran as normal, if not better than before. The only thing was – it was Max’s plan to begin with. Chance made a mental note to never, EVER let Max work on the TurboKat or try to defuse a bomb. He decided that a break was in order.
“It’s break time. What would you like to eat?” asked Chance, expecting an answer of almost any kind.
“Oh, I’ll pretty much eat anything.”
“Anything, huh?” A malicious grin spread across Chance’s face. “Look, you go upstairs and watch some TV. I’ll prepare you a special sandwich for working so hard”
“Oh boy! TV!” cried Max and ran off with the sugar energy of a psychotic three-year old.
“So, what do you think?”
“I think you look OK.”
“Yeah, it’ll do fine, I s’pose”
Jake was wearing a T-shirt bearing the Pepsi logo, a pair of faded jeans, a trenchcoat and a grey fedora. He didn’t wear any shoes, as none of Flint’s shoes fitted him, and he’d never actually worn shoes before, so this didn’t bother him. He didn’t stand out in the crowd, as he looked like any other 27 year old, pretty much, except for the trenchcoat, but Sam assured him he just looked like an average 27 year old pervert, so everything was fine.
“So, now what?” asked Jake.
“Now we sit around the office waiting for the phone to -”
The phone rang. Sam dived over the desk and answered it, holding out an arm, lest Jake rush him to answer the phone. Jake countered this by standing there and looking surprised.
“Sorry” apologised Sam, “Forcive habit”. He then concentrated his attention towards the phone. “Yes? Yes? Yes? Yes? Because I’m bigger! Bye!”
“That was the commisionner” said Sam, “he says there’s a job for us to do. I’ll explain in the car. Let’s go!”
Max called out from the sofa to the kitchen.
“Hey, this TV guide is misprinted! It says that there’s only 4 shows on TV – Scaredy Kat, David Litterbin, Emergency News Update As To What’s Destroying MegaKat City With Ann Gorra and Lois and Klark: The New Adventures Of SuperKat!”
“That sounds about right. What’s wrong?” asked Chance, cutting Max’s sandwiches into 4. He didn’t want the guy to have to try the whole thing at once, as he could seriously injure himself in the tasting process.
“Uh, never mind” replied Max. “And what’s ‘Lois and Klark’?”
“Lois and Klark is…was…a good show. It used to be about this Kat who pretended to live a normal life, but in fact, he had a secret identity as SuperKat, protector of the city. He used to have a love interest, in the sense that he loved her, and she loved him, but she didn’t really know who ‘he’ was. Anyway, she found out about his secret identity, and they began to go into issues such as being lovers and getting married and…”
“And it killed the show. The ratings plummeted. The show lost that something special that made it good.”
“Are you saying that they shouldn’t have tackled the ‘love’ issue?”
“No, that was necessary. You see, they’d already expanded into each other issue, and it was only logical that the should conquer the big issue that so many fiction pieces miss – love. It’s a side to human nature that must be explored”
“Did you say ‘human’?”
“Sorry, Kat nature. Anyway, the issue has to be tackled, but it’s a very difficult issue to tackle. It’s like defusing a bomb. It’s difficult, but necessary, and the thing can blow up on you at any second, so you’ve got to plan your next move VERY carefully.”
“At the level of detail that we’re using to analyse this fictional show, it’s almost as if we’re discussing a similar, but different subject and concern”
“Yes, it is. Now eat your sandwiches up and put Scardey Kat on”
Max put Scardey Kat on. Chance wasn’t watching the show, however, as he wanted to see the expression on Max’s face when he had his first bite. He watched, in horror, as Max grabbed all 4 pieces of sandwich at once, and showed them down his gaping maw. He didn’t even twink.
“What about the sandwiches?” asked Chance, taken aback.
“Hmm? Oh, they were very nice, thank you very much. What was on them?” asked Max.
“Twelve or so mongo peppers” sighed Chance, foiled.
“What’s going on?” asked Jake, gripping the dashboard tenaciously. The Desoto was travelling fast.
“The commisioner wants us to investigate a series of thefts on the East Side.”
“The East Side of what?”
“I don’t know, he just said ‘the East Side’. I figured that we’d just drive east until we came across a crime or something”
“Fine with me. Tell me more about Max”
Sam did so.
“Oh dear” commented Jake, “Chance never really was the patient member of the group. I hope he doesn’t do anything irrational”.
But this thought was too late, as Chance already had done so…
END OF PART ONE
“I don’t know what it is – but it’s big…and it’s headed right for us!!!”
It’s Part II of this story. 9 out of 10 masochists recommend it. Available at all good SWAT Kat fanfic sites (and some of the bad ones).
“SWAT Kats: Freelance Police”: Part II by Nicholas Ball
Hi there, and welcome to Part II of my title “SWAT Kats: Freelance Police”! Numero Duo. The Second. The Sequel To The Prequel. Number Two. Next. The Follow-On. In this second part, we learn of the irrational thing Chance has done in Jake’s absence (remember the cliffhanger I left you with? What do you mean ‘No’? That was dramatic! You were meant to be on the edge of your seats! Jeez, I don’t see why I bother…) and we wind up the story. Just as well, because I couldn’t think of any names for ‘Part III’. All e-mails regarding my ambivalence and other words beginning with ‘a’ to Nick Ball (firstname.lastname@example.org)
“SWAT Kats: Freelance Police”: Part II
Chance had indeed done something irrational. It was reckless, juvenile, necessary and inevitable. He had…made Max a temporary member of the SWAT Kats in Jake’s absence. He had needed a partner, and it had to be Max. HAD to be. Max knew all about what was going on, to the extent of his limited concentration, knew of the secret of the SWAT Kats, and he had to be under Chance’s continual watch all the time or Chance would suffer the consequences. Chance was, currently, adjusting the controls of the TurboKat so that Max could work them without TOO much of a crisis.
“Okay, I’ve altered the gunner helmet so it works from your bizarrely-spaced eyeballs. Put it on.”
Max squeezed his ears and head into the helmet. He could see outside the TurboKat, although he was inside it. Cool. He turned his head and saw Chance walking to the other end of the garage. With his back to him. Vulernable.
“Now”, pondered Max “I wonder which one is the net missile”
At that very moment, Chance was wondering if he should have left Max in the TurboKat alone. 2.4 seconds later, he found out.
“Look, Jake, it’s the appauling visage of crime!”
“Where?” asked Jake, craning his head to look.
“Now don’t you start that too.” warned Sam
“Sorry. Where is this appauling visage of crime that you referred to?”
“Over there. See?”
Jake looked over there. A man was being robbed at knife-point. Jake and Sam jumped out of the car and ran towards him.
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