Kim Possible and Street Hawk: Ranger's Eyes

Disclaimer: I do not own Kim Possible, Street Hawk or Walker, Texas Ranger. Wish I did though.

Departure and Picking Up

"What's the worst or the weirdest that can happen? It's just a basic transportation hitch. Right?"

Bonnie Rockwaller shakes her head in disbelief as she puts on the helmet for the War Bird helicopter. 'What was I thinking, asking Ron that? His planning may be excellent, but this is overdone! I'm talking fried-nuked in the microwave oven time!'

The planning session had just wrapped up in ComCen and the others are getting the Street Hawk and Ninja motorcycles loaded into Rolling Base. As War Bird's rotors turn, she thinks about Ron's plan. "Well, it seems sound enough. But, don't you think it'd be a tad much, Wade?"

In the seat beside her, Wade Load replies, "Nah. Ron just wants to cover as many angles as possible. Given what's happened in the past, would you blame him?"

Bonnie snorts out her laughter before replying, "Yeah, you've got a point there. I just don't think it's good policy to put a shock collar onto Prisoner #34598012's neck. Just to keep him from getting ideas of making a break for it. Besides, where could he possibly escape to? If he was to try escaping, he'd be without a parachute."

The plan discussed went like this.

"We touch down at the Jail in Portland and pick up the prisoner. From there, we'll take him, fully-shackled, out to Sky Base and seat him on a bench seat just under the vehicle bay. We'll then attach a shock collar to his neck, in order to keep him from getting ideas. The flight is slated to be three hours from Oregon down to Tarrant County, Texas, but we'll rotate Guards every three hours, just in case it takes a little longer. It'll give some a chance to rest at least.

Once we touch down in Texas, we'll move the prisoner over to Ranger Headquarters and begin working on the murder case. Bonnie, you'll provide air cover while we transport #34598012 in Rolling Base. Norman's behind the wheel on Rolling Base. Hirotaka and I will escort on the cycles, Kim and Jessica will provide ground support should a firefight occur. Along with getting Rolling Base out of there and to the Courthouse. It seems it's where the Ranger Headquarters for Company B is.

Upon arrival there, we'll turn custody of #34598012 over to them and start work on the investigation that was assigned to us to assist on. I guess these last couple of trips outside of GJ's scrutiny caused them to dream this up."

"As punishment, or a vacation of sorts, Ron?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, KP." Ron Stoppable then looked around the table and asked, "Any questions?" Finding none, he nodded and said, "All right. Let's do it."

With a sigh, Bonnie sees the rotary pitch is at speed and lifts up on the collective, just as Rolling Base and Hard Hawk leave ComCen. Once the vehicles are away, ComCen closes it's doors and the complex's computers monitor the area.

At the US Border, between Texas and Mexico, a lone grey Dodge Ram pickup truck with two men inside is heading through the border and entering Mexico. One hour later, the pickup arrives at it's destination. Both men exit the Ram and the driver makes his way to the truck's tailgate while his partner waits for him.

"Walker?"

Opening the tailgate, Walker asks, "Yeah, Trivette?"

"Your informant sure about the location of the hijackers?"

"Very sure, Trivette. Come on. We got some criminals to round up. Along with a Fed to extract."

"Right behind you, Walker." With that, both men go into the 'Mariachi Bar' and see their quarry. All four of them. "Texas Rangers. You're all under arrest for ambushing and hijacking the Military small arms shipment from Ft Hood. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. It's your choice."

"You're getting better, Trivette."

"Thanks. Now, what's it gonna be, fellas?"

One of them looks toward Trivette, scoffs and remarks, "The new age of the Rangers, guys. A colored, and a half-breed. So, boy, how do you like being a Ranger, out of your Jurisdiction?" To his surprise, Trivette only smiles at him. "What's with you, boy?"

"The hard way, then."

Without any further word, their quarry attacks them, yet they find themselves being clobbered by the two Texas Rangers. By the time they're done, all four men are on the floor, their hands and feet being tied up by a rope that both men bring out and start using on them.

"Walker?"

"Yeah, Trivette?"

"You don't suppose he called me 'boy' because I'm black, do you?"

"He could very well have, Trivette. So, what do you wanna do? Take him to jail or hang him?"

"Oh, gee. What a tough call. Normally, I'd prefer taking him to jail, but then I think about what he said. So, I'm kinda leanin' towards hanging him."

"Nah, you don't have the guts or brains for it." The racist shakes his head and replies, "It's the way I was brought up, boy. My Grandfather raised me. Before he was arrested and died in Prison."

"Who was your Grandfather?" To Trivette's surprise, the man begins laughing. "I don't see what the joke is."

"Ask your partner. He knows who my Grandfather is, boy."

Trivette turns to Walker and puts it together. "Max Slater, the guy that killed your parents. Right?"

Walker nods and replies, "Yeah. I thought something was familiar about the name on the warrant. Just couldn't put my finger on it. Then I saw his butt-ugly mug and recognized some of the more hideous features."

"Hideous? Look who's talking, half-breed." Next thing the guy knows, Walker's fist is coming right at his face. After that, nothing.

Marveling at the sight, Trivette smirks and says, "I see the society of morons hasn't changed much. Zack Slater's the worst of the bunch."

"I'll say, Trivette. Come on. Let's get these guys back to Texas."

Reaching two hands down, Walker hefts the unconscious racist onto his shoulder and carries the man out, placing him into the pickup's bed. Very roughly. Three minutes later, the remaining three are with their friend in the pickup's bed.

Once Trivette had closed the tailgate, he gets into the Ram's cab with Walker and grins, saying, "Another rich full day, Walker."

"Indeed, Trivette." Walker then checks his watch and adds, "Let's get going. By the time we get these three guys and the Fed processed, we'll be getting an extradite in."

"Extradite? From where?"

"Oregon. It's being handled by Team Hawk."

"Ah. It's Alex's, isn't it?"

"Yep." With that, Rangers Cordell Walker and James Trivette proceed to head out of Mexico and for Tarrant County, Texas.

As they drive, Slater opens his eyes and scowls at his cohorts. "You pansies couldn't even beat up on a part-Injun? We're supposed to be their superiors."

Bobby Dugan, one of the newest on his crew by five months, looks over at him and replies, "Shut the fuck up, Zack. You know who that is that arrested us? Cordell Walker, son of John and Elizabeth Firewalker. They're the couple your Grandfather murdered in cold blood all those years ago. He's also very proud of his heritage. Guess what? I'm a quarter-Cherokee. I just don't look it."

"Can you fly, Bobby? Unless you want us or yourself to find out, you shut the fuck up. It wasn't murder, it was a public service." Jimmy Fraser and Danny Miller both nod at Slater's words, for they'd been with his circle for a long time.

"Before I do shut up, there's one more thing. The only good racist is a dead racist." With that, Bobby smirks inwardly, knowing that his job would be done soon.

Over in Oregon, two hours later, Prisoner #34598012 is in his cell, deep asleep, when he hears a very familiar sound. The sound of jet thrusters. Next thing he knows, a Guard is barking at him.

"On your feet, Prisoner!" Instantly, Prisoner #34598012 gets onto his feet and blinks the bleariness from his eyes.

"You're being transported to Texas to stand trial, #34598012. Team Hawk has been assigned to transport you to your destination. They'll explain the rules to you. Is that understood?"

"It is, sir."

"Good. Get your personal shit together. More than likely, you'll be spending time in a Texas Jail as well. So you might as well be prepared for that probability."

"Yes sir."

Next thing #34598012 knows, a small cardboard box is shoved into his hands and his cell door clangs shut. Once the Guard had cleared the doorway, #34598012 begins putting his few possessions into the box. Suddenly, he comes across a picture he hadn't bothered to look at in years. His family, back when he was still with them and his youngest daughter as a baby.

His fist shaking angrily, he shoves the picture into the very bottom of the box, not wanting to see it again any time soon. Once he gets his belongings together, he sits on his cell's bunk and waits.

Twenty minutes later, his cell door opens and he hears the Guard bark, "On your feet, #34598012. Your transportation's ready." Once #34598012 is on his feet, the Guards put the restraints onto him, shackling his wrists and ankles before walking him out of the cell. One Guard carries his box while another leads the prisoner forward.

When they get to the screening area, he sees five familiar figures, all clad in bodysuits and wearing helmets. "Team Hawk, I can't begin to tell you how much contempt I feel. You had a lot of nerve blowing up my trawler." When he gets closer, he sees they have pins saying 'SRT' on their chests. "What's that stand for anyways?"

"You will speak when you're spoken to. And only in response to a question. Is that understood, #34598012?" The voice is distorted, feminine, and laced with venom. "For your information, 'SRT' stands for 'Special Response Team'. It's the Military equivalent of a S.W.A.T. Team. Understood?"

"Understood."

The feminine figure nods before going on. "Any attempts to escape will result in your death. Any assault on a member of your transport detail will result in your death. Understood?"

"Yes."

"Good. You will eat when we tell you to, drink when we tell you to and you will use the restroom when you feel you need to do so. Understood?"

"Yes."

"Great. Looks like we'll get along semi-famously, #34598012. Any questions?"

"Yeah. Who're you?"

The figure leans forward and hotly replies, "I'm your worst nightmare. That's who I am."

"Easy, War Bird."

War Bird leans back and takes a deep breath to calm herself back down."Thanks, Street Hawk. I think I was about ready to tear this guy a new one." Sure enough, her tone sounds exactly like what she had just said. Only, she actually considers it. "We'll take custody of the Prisoner now, sir."

The Guard at the desk nods and replies, "Very well. Just put down your call signs and affiliation on the Extradite form and you can take him then."

Hard Hawk nods back and says, "Roger." One by one, all members write down their call signs and their affiliation. Five minutes later, they are escorting #34598012 out to a massive black cargo plane with a black helicopter sitting beside it.

Once they get him on board, #34598012 notices they have a black truck, van and dune buggy. All contained within the space. Before he can ponder just how they could fit the vehicles inside, he's brought out of it.

Street Hawk says, "Welcome aboard Sky Base. Hard Hawk and Ninja will escort you to your seat. Ninja will be your first Guard. Is that understood?"

"It is."

Street Hawk nods and says, "Good. Guys, if you please." Ninja and Hard Hawk both nod and take #34598012's arms, leading him toward the staircase for the lower level, which had been jerry-rigged in order for them to transport him.

When they get him into the lower level, he sees a bench with a cage around it. "I was just in a cage and you want to put me in another one?"

He then feels a hard punch to his gut and hears another feminine voice. Considerably softer, yet full of ice. "Were you just spoken to? I don't think so, sucker."

"My apologies. I meant no disrespect."

Another male voice replies, "Good. An excellent starting point. Think of the cage as an added security measure. To keep you out of further trouble and us safe. That way, we can make everyone happy."

"Ninja?"

"Yes, Hard?"

"Don't forget this." Hard Hawk hands Ninja a device that #34598012 recognizes as a shock collar for dogs.

"Oh yeah. Thanks, Hard." Ninja turns to #34598012 and puts the shock collar on around #34598012's neck. Once the collar is on, Ninja nudges #34598012 into the cage and locks it securely. "See you in three hours, Hard."

"Roger that, Ninja." With that, Hard Hawk exits the makeshift cell area, just as Sky Base lifts off of the ground, with War Bird right behind it. Destination; Ft Worth, Texas.

At the War Bird's controls, Bonnie lifts her visor to wipe the tears from her blue eyes. 'I'm extraditing my "Father". Life so doesn't get any better than this. But, just what exactly did he do in Texas anyways?'

Recalling the look on Sam Rockwaller's face when he had seen the entire field operations team, she giggles. "He so had it coming."

"You okay, Bonnie?"

"Affirmative, Ron. Just still in disbelief we'd been assigned to transport my 'Father' to Texas. I can't help but wonder what he did exactly."

Next thing she knows, there's a clap of thunder, along with a heavy downpour. "Something tells me this will take a while."

"Something tells me you're right. Let's not take any chances. We'd better go around the storm to avoid turbulence. Norman is on the horn right now with the D.A.'s office to bring them up to speed on the situation so far."

"Roger that, Ron. I've got the ball."

"Copy Bon-Bon. We'll key in on your signal. It's just in case visibility drops drastically."

"I like the way you think. Bonnie out."

Inside his cage, Sam listens to the thrums of the engines and feels they're somehow familiar. 'Why do I get the feeling I've heard these engines before?'