E-mail address: sammySK@hotmail.com
Disclaimer:SWAT Kats: The Radical Squadron, its characters and concepts are copyright to Hanna-Barbera Cartoons, Inc and are used without permission.
Author’s Comments/Notes: This is a story I stared a few years back and just thought I’d finish it, it’s still a work in progress right now since I didn’t have time to finish it but now I do. Anyway hope you like and it ain’t too boring right now for anyone who reads it.
Summary: Seven mysterious kats come to the salvage yard and ask Jake to join them. Then, that night, Chance mysteriously goes missing. Where is he? And, will Jake join these mysterious seven kats?
As the rain connected with the garage roof, every drop made an echoed sound as Chance Furlong tried to sleep.
He groaned as he turned from laying on his left side to his back, placing his pillow over his ears as he tried to block out the sound of a thousand drops of rain echoing.
In a room across from Chance’s, Jake Clawson slept peacefully, courtesy of earmuffs.
In the morning, Jake was the first up.
The rain was still coming down by the thousands.
When Chance finally did get up, it was ten thirty. He dragged his feet as he walked into the kitchen where Jake sat at the table, reading the newspaper.
With half open eyes, Chance poured himself a cup of coffee, which he most definitely needed.
“Rain keep you up half the night again, Chance?” Jake asked as he read the news section.
Chance only replied with a low, “mmm,” as he plonked onto a chair.
Jake smiled and shook his head slightly with the paper still covering his face.
As Jake had just finished reading the paper, there was a knock at the door.
Chance said sleepily, “You can get that.”
Jake rolled his eyes as he put the paper on the table, stood up and made his way to the garage.
Chance watched Jake leave with his half open eyes. When Jake was in the garage, Chance got up and put his empty coffee cup in the sink and went up to Jake’s room.
At the door, there was seven tom-kats wearing the same brown tuxedos.
A dark brown tom at the front of all the seven said in a low tone, “We’re here to see Jacob Clawson.”
Jake looked at all seven before answering, “That would be me.”
The same tom that spoke before said in the same tone, “Jacob Clawson, do you have time to come with us, for half of an hour?”
Jake looked in the garage. It was empty; they hadn’t got a call from Callie in weeks.
He looked back at the tom that spoke. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
Up in Jake’s room, Chance was sitting on the corner of Jake’s bed, looking at the earmuffs.
“So, that’s how he can get to sleep,” Chance said, standing up and walking out of Jake’s room and into his own with the earmuffs. “Let’s see him have a nice sleep tonight,” he said, placing the earmuffs in his bedside table draw.
The brown suited kats in a brown van took Jake to an old road and talked to him in the van there.
Jake was sitting in the back of the van, across from the dark brown tom, and sitting on the right of him, a white faced tom sat, to his left a half brown and creamy faced tom sat.
“Now, Jacob Clawson, we brought you out here to ask you to join us,” the same dark drown tom said still in a low tone.
Jake asked while looking at the tom that spoke, “Join you? What are you, a club or something?”
“No, Jacob Clawson, we are a secret government, trying to stop Pumadyne from making nuclear weapons. Will you join us or not? We want a straight yes or no answer. However, if you do join, we could make your debt with the Enforcers disappear,” the same tom said, keeping his low tone.
“Why would a secret government need me?” Jake asked, raising his right eyebrow.
“Well, Jacob Clawson, in the field of technology we lack a great deal. We went over your Enforcer records, and, well, you are just what we need. So, are you in or are you out?”
“As tempting as that sounds, but I have to say, no, I’m out,” Jake replied, looking at everyone in the brown van.
The dark brown tom sighed and closed his eyes, saying at the same time. “Alright then, Jones, take us back to the salvage yard.”
Jones, the driver, just started the van up and headed back to the salvage yard.
The ride back to the salvage yard was quiet. Jake felt a bit uneasy, and he kept looking at every kat one by one.
Jake felt so relieved when he got out of the van. “Talk about strange,” he said before turning and walking into the garage.
At that time, Chance was back in the kitchen, sitting at the table.
Chance asked as Jake walked into the kitchen, “Where did you go?”
Jake looked over at Chance, stopping in the door way. “No where… I’m going for a shower.”
Once Jake was out of the shower and dressed in his work overalls, he went down to the ladder to the hanger. Chance was on the couch, watching his daily Scaredy Kat.
Jake could hear Chance laughing, even down in the hanger as he typed on his computer. Jake stopped typing and looked up at the ladder and shook his head slightly as he said, “Chance, you can be like a big kitten some times.” He then went back to typing.
Jake stayed down in the hanger until ten pm.
He yawned and stretched his arms out, leaning back in the computer chair.
“Well, I guess that means it’s time for bed,” he said, still yawning.
He stood up and pushed the chair in and went up to the garage.
It was still raining buckets.
Chance was already in bed and fast asleep thanks to the earmuff he took from Jake’s room.
Jake changed into his normal bed cloths, which was a pair of boxers. After he changed, he looked in the top draw of his bedside table for his earmuffs. He smiled when he couldn’t find them.
“Nice try, Chance,” he said, not to Chance, but to himself. He opened the bottom draw and grabbed a portable tape player with headphones attached to it.
Jake looked in the portable tape player to make sure there was a tape inside; there was. Jake got into bed. Once he was laying down in a comfortable position, he put the earphones in and turned on the tape player. He turned it up the highest it could go to block out the rain.
Early that morning, at one fifty-three, seven figures, dressed in all black with black masks coving their faces; showing only their eyes, broke into the garage, which wasn’t hard, since the garage door lock was broken. Once all seven were in the garage, they headed for Chance’s room.
Outside waited one of the intruders, sitting in a very large-sized black van.
They moved like ninjas into Chance’s room, silently without one single sound.
Chance was sleeping heavily that night after not getting much sleep a few days before, so if they did make a sound, Chance wouldn’t wake up, and neither would Jake, having the tape player up as loud as it can go.
Without one word or sound, one of the burly black intruders put a cloth over Chance’s mouth, while four others held Chance down. The other two waited outside of the room, keeping an eye out for Jake.
The cloth that the intruder put over Chance’s mouth had a sleeping liquid on it, knocking Chance out before he could even react.
As soon as they knew Chance was out, two of the intruders put metal cuffs on Chance’s wrists and ankles and carried him out of the garage, put him in the back of a black van. The back of the van didn’t have any windows, and it was reinforced with some kind of mega strong metal. There also was the same metal between the front and back of the van, separating the driver and the seven intruders from Chance in the back. This was specially made for ten passengers, not including the driver, to sit up front.
In the back of the van two of the intruders chained Chance’s wrists to the left top side of the van, making his arms go above his head and his ankles to the bottom side with both his wrists and ankles still bound by the metal cuffs. They made sure everything was right and tight before they went to the front to join their comrades, and so they could leave.
As they drove off, the van didn’t make any sound whatsoever. It was made to be very silent, and it was indeed very silent.
One of the intruders reached into the glove-compartment and took out a small radio. Pushing a red button on the side of it, the intruder simply said, “Target acquired.”
The radio made a static sound before a deep voice said on the other side of it, “Roger that, you know what to do next.”
The intruder simply smiled, putting the small radio back into the glove-compartment.
Disclaimer: SWAT Kats: The Radical Squadron is copyright to Hanna-Barbera Cartoons Inc. All Rights Reserved. © 1995. All other characters and material within this page are the property of their respective creators.