Date Started: 10/21/15
Date Finished: 1/20/16
Comments: This fic was written for Betaruga (betaruga.deviantart.com), based on a pic she drew that spawned this bit of nonsense.
Chance rolled his eyes upwards. “You’re not dyin’; it’s only a headcold. Last I checked, people didn’t die from headcolds.”
“They did in the Dark Ages,” came the warbled response.
“That’s why they were called th’ ‘Dark’ Ages.” Chance eyed the thermometer in his hand. “One-o’-three. You’re outta commission, Buddy. Sorry.”
Jake forced himself to sit up, tightening the blanket around his shoulders. “I hate feeling like this. What if we’re called?”
“On the off chance that happens, I could always use you as a backup weapon. I don’t think Megakat City’s villains would expect the SWAT Kats to resort to biological warfare.” Chance smirked, catching the pillow a mildly annoyed, mildy amused Jake threw at him.
“You’re a riot, Furlong.” Jake laughed weakly between coughs.
“Seriously, though, I’m pretty sure I can manage.” Chance threw the pillow back. “You need ta’ concentrate on gettin’ better. Startin’ now.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Jake sank back down under the covers. “Wake me when the world ends.”
It hadn’t been fifteen minutes, Jake calculated. He’d heard their alarm go off. He’d heard the roar of the Turbokat’s engines underground, the door leading to their runway sliding back and mildly shaking the building, the slight rumble of the jet taking off into the sky.
Freshly painted, a new coat of wax, fully stocked, including the new thought controlled missiles he was going to mention to Chance this…
Jake’s eyes flew open. “Uh oh.”
“Just no end to these things.”
T-Bone banked sharply, narrowly avoiding another shot near the jet. He winced to see an Enforcer chopper going down. He had expected to encounter what the Enforcers had described as “hundreds of drones” flying over the city, but he never expected this many.
“And, Feral’s got his hands tied. Where are they all comin’ from?!”
“I think you should be worried about what will happen when they’re done draining this city of its finances!” came an unwelcome response via the Turbokat’s communications console.
T-Bone held back a groan at the face sneering back at him through the jet’s viewscreen. “Hard Drive.”
“I doubt you two will be able to stop all my drones. They’re state of the art with the latest in military technology!”
“That you obviously stole. What gives, Sparky? Don’t have anythin’ better ta’ do with your life?”
“Try all you want, you won’t be able to take them all down!” the tech crook gloated. “Not you, not the Enforcers! They’re equipped with self-defense systems that will bring down an entire squadron of Enforcer choppers. All while hacking into banking systems and uploading the data into…!”
T-Bone abruptly started to imitate static. “What’s that?” He continued as he fiddled with the communications frequency. “You seem ta’ be breakin’ up.”
“I can see you making that sound!”
“Sorry, goin’ through a tunnel. Can’t catch any of your wannabe megalomaniac jargon.”
“There are no tunnels in – ”
The pilot sighed as he cut off the signal entirely. “Gotta find a way to bring those things down all at once. Of all times…” He stopped as the communications channel came back to life, then blinked to see an all too familiar face. “Razor?!”
“Buddy! You doing okay?”
“You should be up to your ears in orange juice and chicken soup. What’re ya’ doin’ outta bed?!”
“I caught the entire conversation.” Razor paused to cough, then turned his attention back to his partner. “There’s a way to bring all those drones down at the same time.”
“I hope it doesn’t involve firin’ every missile I have in stock, because that hasn’t done anythin’ so far.”
“Not every missile. I… may’ve stocked the Turbokat with a few test missiles I probably should’ve told you about this morning.”
T-Bone gave his partner the all too familiar look he reserved for when he was the last to know about basically, well, everything.
“They’re thought controlled,” Razor continued. “I built a neurochip into our helmets, just below the right ear.”
Frowning, T-Bone tapped the right side of his helmet and blinked to see a holographic visor appear, showing him specs, the number of missiles in stock and, to his surprise, locations of every single drone in the city.
“It links to the targeting systems in the Turbokat. The missiles are armed with miniature bombs. Once they’re fired, they’ll separate and each bomb’ll go after an individual target, undetected.”
T-Bone snapped out of his daze to register what Razor told him. “Wait… you mean these things have been in the jet since this mornin’?!”
“Last night, actually. Calm down; I’ll guide you. Just calculate the trajectory and…”
“To top that off, you’re makin’ me do math in mid-air?!”
“You were pretty good in the academy, Buddy.”
“No one does math under stress, Razor!”
“No one normal does math under stress, Razor!”
Letting out a frustrated huff, T-Bone turned his attention back to the hologram. “Alright. Since it looks like I have no choice but to ‘test out’ these things for ya’, let’s see what they can do.”
Razor watched as the Turbokat circled around the targets. “Now, concentrate on one of those drones. The missiles should seek out any copies and – T-Bone you just fired at the hardware shop downtown abort, ABORT!”
There was silence and static for a few minutes before T-Bone came back online. “Got ’em. That’s four drones down.”
“What happened, Buddy?”
“Nothin’. I just had a fleeting thought of how much I wanted to incinerate any tools you had at your disposal before you came up with any more crazy ideas.”
Razor tossed his partner a tired glare. “Ignoring that, too.”
“Anyway, I think I got a hang of this, so this shouldn’t take long.” T-Bone fired the thrusters. “Time ta’ make it rain.”
“You’re the best, Buddy.” Jake finished his sentence with yet another coughing fit once T-Bone emerged from the Turbokat.
“Yeah, yeah. You can thank me by goin’ back to bed and bundlin’ up.” Chance pulled off his helmet and mask and ruffled out his head fur. “Th’ city should be comin’ back online any minute. Sparky’s not gonna be too happy when he finds a big fat zero in his bank account and plenty of little drone pieces scattered all over th’ place.”
Jake smirked. “I’m guessing a drone delivery service didn’t occur to him?”
Chance shrugged. “So, what’re ya’ gonna call those new missiles of yours anyway? They worked like a charm.”
“I haven’t thought of a name yet.” Jake slowly made his way up the ladder.
“‘Tracers’ comes to mind,” said Chance as he changed back from uniform.
“That’s probably already taken. Maybe. It’ll come to me when I’m not dying.”
“For the last time, you’re not dyin’.”
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