Original SWAT Kats Story

Rememberances and Recollections

By Terra Chang

  • 1 Chapter
  • 2,182 Words

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Author's Notes:

NOTE: This is dedicated to my friend Rayna McKinely. Rayna, this one’s for you!

Oh yeah, and about my other stories? It may take a little while longer than we all thought . . . I’m having trouble with ideas . . .

This basically is as my version of how Jake and Chance met, and what I think made Chance move from his old neighborhood, the first mission of the Swat Kats and so on. Tell me what you think. Did you like my ideas? *Hugs* to you all. (I don’t know why, I’m just feeling affectionate.)

Chance sat at the table, pen in hand, a journal lying in front of him. He was determine to write down everything he could remember from this reoccuring nightmare he had had since he was very young.

In it, he was a child again, on that fateful day when he saw his father die.

It started with him going to school as usual, walking, since they

lived so nearby, feeling ridiculously happy. He was quickly joined by his then best friend, Araon McCoon. They had traded jokes and pranks they heard over the weekend, and laughing like crazy.

“Hey, look, an Enforcer jet!” Araon had said suddenly, pointing upward.

He had looked up sharply. Even though it was almost too far away to see, Chance knew instinctively that his father was in that jet. “Hey, it’s my dad! Hey, Dad! Hey! Can you see us!” he shouted, waving wildly and looking like an idiot. Their teacher, Miss Reianna, had come out to see what all the noise was about; all of the kids in the playground were pointing and saying things about it.

But something was wrong. Terribly wrong. The jet’s path through the air wobbled crazily, and it left a burning gray trail behind it. In his gut Chance knew something terrible was about to happen.

“No, Dad, watch out!!” he had shouted, chasing after it as it passed over their heads, ignoring Araon’s cries to come back, Miss Reianna’s voice ordering him to return. He heard their footsteps behind him, they were chasing him. No, not yet, not now, not when his dad was in trouble.

He literally vaulted over the chain fence, ignoring the sounds of admiration from the others. He chased madly after the plain, once more hearing Miss Reianna’s voice, hoarse with excertion, “Stop, Mr. Furlong! That’s enough!”

He followed it to the large, lifeless field about two miles north of

the school. By then he was rather far behind, forced to trail the burning path, and breathing heavily. “No,” he had sobbed, trying to keep up, even though it was hopless. “God, no!”

He made it to the field and fell to his knees. The jet was there, a burning, smoldering thing, a great bonfire; a funeral pyre for his father, Maxwell Clawson. And now that he could see it better, he could tell, without a doubt, that it was his father’s. He had slumped on the ground then, Miss Reianna coming up behind, ready to scold, but stopping when she saw the smoking wrekage of his father’s jet.

He had let out some small noise then, his lips formed the word “Dad” again, and Miss Reianna was instantly contrite and sympathetic. She had bodily carried him back to the school, left him in the nurse’s office, and went to call both his mother and the local Enforcer headquarters.

His mother had come then, eyes red and hair wild from her grief. She had simply enfolded her son in a tight embrace, and for the first time since beginning junior high, he let her. And they both cried.

They had moved two weeks later; life here was too painful and too harsh. They moved to a Megakat City neighborhood, one where they could start life over.

That was the end of the dream. But Chance was not through writing yet. The pen practically flew over the paper as he poured out his feelings. He was also writing about what happened afterwards.

That was probably when he turned into a terror of other kids.

He bullied, stole, and lied; he bad-mouthed to his teachers, did poorly in school.

Then, when high school started, he met someone who changed his life.

A new kid moved in. His name was Jake Clawson. Thin almost to the point of being scrawny, he was actually much tougher than he seemed.

Their relationship had actually started off pretty rocky. He had jumped Jake as the kid had come out of the school, pouncing like a wild cat and demanding money.

He had not been prepared to be sent flying, as he was when Jake threw him. He had landed, upside-down and dazed, staring at Jake in astonishment. The smaller kat had walked over to him and helped him to his feet. “Are you okay?” he had asked, with quiet concern, showing no resentment towards him.

Astonished, he scrambled to his feet. “Um, yeah, I suppose so. Say,” he said, suddenly suspicious. “Why are you being so nice to me? You should be calling for the teacher. And what the heck did you just do to me?”

Jake shrugged. “I’m just a nice guy by nature. Say, I’m new here . . . wanna hang out?”

He stared at the smaller, younger orange kat, and to his complete surprise, found himself answering, “Sure, why not? I gotta go home at seven, though.” Now why had he said that? He had stopped obeying the rules ever since his father died. What made him say this?

“Fine. Would you like to meet my mom?”


“I said, ‘Would you like to meet my mom?’”

“What about your dad?”

Jake seemed suddenly uncomfortable. “Oh. Dad. Well, he’s just, well, um, I, uh . . .”

“Hey, its okay.” Chance understood Jake’s discomfort. “My dad’s dead too.”

Jake shook his head. “No. That’s not it. He’s just, well, he’s in jail for attempted robbery, rape and murder. And he really did do the last two. He did them to my sister.”

Chance gasped. His father had been an Enforcer. Now he was dead, he had become the resident bad guy. And this kid, this little kid who was two years younger than he was and one of the nicest people he had ever met (so what if he’d only known the guy for five minutes. He could tell Jake was nice.) and his father was in jail for some of the heaviest crimes one could get into.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Jeeze, he was acting like some venerable goody-goody! What the heck was wrong with him?!

“It’s okay. I don’t like to talk about it though.” He seemed to snap out of it at that. “C’mon. I live within walking distance.”

That had only been the beginning.

For some reason, Jake touched something inside him he thought long gone. They were becoming fast friends, and no one dared to tease him, or beat up on him; Chance would not allow that to happen. And, in return, Jake helped him with his grades, making things easier for him to understand when the teacher despaired of explaining it to him, and taught him karate.

Friends. Jake became the Araon of his adolescent years, his best friend and life-long pal. He told Jake about Araon, about his feelings when he saw his father’s jet lying there, a ruined mass of junk, things he had never told even Araon.

And then, came the Enforcers.

It had been Jake’s idea. He had told Chance the reason he wanted it was “because I still feel guilty about what my dad did, and I want to *do* something, sorta like the son paying for the sins of the father.”

He agreed, only because he was slightly drunk that night.

They had made it into the Enforcers, and by pure luck (and some nudging from Chance) they ended up as partners throughout the whole thing.

Then came the day Dark Kat, a kat criminal mastermind destroyed the Enforcer headquarter building.

And Feral, the old fuzz brain that he was, blamed them, and kicked them out of the Enforcers. He sent them to work in the Megakat Metal Salvage Yard, to take Burke and Muarry’s place as the mechanics.

Chance was been really pissed off, swearing, “This can’t be happening; we’re pilots, not junkmen.”

Jake had not said anything for a few moments, then said slowly, lifting the remains of a jet wing, “You know, Chance, there’s enough military salvage here to build our own jet.”

Chance, still in the process of sulking, about to throw a huge screw after the truck Burke and Muarry drove off in, turned and snapped sharply “And do what?”

“Get back in the air, and get back at Dark Kat.” The idea intrigued him. He moved closer, listening intently. “And all the other criminal scum who rear their ugly heads in Megakat City. Only this time, we do it *our* way.”

He felt a huge smile spread over his features. “Well, then what are we waiting for, buddy?”

They had slapped a high-five and immediately set to work. Where would they hide the jet? That was a little hard, but they soon discovered that the garage of the Megakat Salvage Yard was built over an old MWII air base, the perfect place to stash the jet. Jake worked on the computers and stuff, designing everything, Chance helping him with the building.

They had both known immediately that they couldn’t let their faces or identities be known. Chance came up with the idea and design of the uniforms, and though it degraded them both, they sewed the entire thing.

Finally, the big day came. While watching the news, they found out Dark Kat was once again trying to attack Megakat City, and the Enforcers were helpless to stop him.

They rushed into action. They easily defeated Dark Kat, who had come unprepared for their barrage of unique missles. Feral demanded to know who they were, and for a few moments, they were at a loss. Then, suddenly, Chance piped up. “We’re the SWAT Kats, Feral, and don’t you forget it. I’m T-Bone, and this is my partner . . .”

“Razor,” the newly-christened SWAT Kat missle manager piped up. “T-Bone and Razor. And we’re the SWAT Kats, sworn to protect Megakat City, even when you fail, Commander.” Always polite, Razor, even when he was dissing somebody.

They had grinned and high-fived at the look of pure rage that suddenly came over Feral’s face even as he realized he had been publicly humiliated. Waving, cockily, they caught their first sight of Callie.

“I think I’m in love,” breathed T-Bone, and all of a sudden, he took out of his pocket a communicator Razor had made. He landed the jet, which they had not named yet, and out he hopped.

Callie was watching them with admiration, and seemed surprised when he presented it to her. “Here. So you can contact us in times of emergancy.”

She had smiled, and he felt totally dazzled by its radiance. Almost shakily he had gotten back into the jet. She had waved even as they lifted off and her hair was wipped into a wild gold cloud.

Razor was shaking his head. “T-Bone, what was that for?” he asked.

“I dunno, buddy. I just don’t know.”

They had blasted off, almost like in the romantic westerns, diving and twisting.

That had been the first of many, many missions. And now, six years after it all began, he sat here, writing everything. He looked up when he felt a light tap on his shoulder.

“Hey, Chance, you okay?” Jake asked, unconsciously nearly perfectly imitating both look and words of that first day when they had met, and he had been thrown head-first into a brick wall.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine, Jake. Hey, wanna go through the obstacle course? Best two outta three?”

Jake had grinned and stuck out his hand. “You’re on!”

They shook hands, grinning. Chance shut the book with a snap and followed Jake outside. He smiled as Jake dug around for a stopwatch, found it, and signaled him to get ready.

He wasn’t the same kitten he had been. He was pretty sure there would be no more nightmare.

Life was good.

THE END —————————————————————————- ———————————————————-And done! I finished it, and all in one sitting! (That makes me sorta nervous about the quality . . .) <shrug> Anyway, *tell* me what you think! Please? Pretty pretty please? =) —————————————————————————- ———————————————————-

Terra Chang: writer and poet, crazy violinst =)

“You’ve gone over the edge!” “Yeahain’t it cool?”

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