THICKER THAN WATER
Part I
Story notes: "Friendly Flight" is a concept that can be found in Disney Comics #7, for those of you who are interested.
"At the end of the you're another day older,
And that's all you can say for the life of the poor.
It's a struggle; it's a war,
And there's nothing that anyone's giving.
One more day standing about, what is it for?
One day less to be living!"
"At the end of the day you're another day colder,
And the shirt on your back won't keep out the chill.
And the richest hurry past,
They don't hear the little ones crying.
And the water is coming up fast, ready to kill.
One day nearer to dying."
"At the end of the day there's another day dawning,
And the sun in the morning is waiting to rise.
Like the waves crashing on the sand,
Like a storm that will break any second.
There's a hunger in the land,
There's a reckoning still to be reckoned.
And there's going to be Hell to pay,
At the end of the day!"
---"At the End of the Day", from "Les Misrables"
PROLOGUE
A signal buoy rang out on the water. It was a clear night - the stars shone brilliantly in the sky, and a crescent moon was nearing the apex of it's nightly journey. A foul stench rolled in off of the polluted water - a mixture of dead fish, garbage and raw sewage. The wind that carried the stench also carried a chill - winter would be coming soon, and in this part of the world that meant that the hundreds of homeless and indigent souls that milled through these streets would suffer - suffer from cold, suffer from exposure - some would die. No matter- when spring rolled around, there would be others to take their place.
The dark hulk of the cannery loomed over the docks, looking sinister in the pale moonlight. A few fishing boats were moored nearby, swaying lightly in the chill breeze. A long pier jutted out in to the water, it's pilings in various states of rot and decay, the foul, bitter mists of many years having taken their toll.
The dank, cramped area under the pier offered some protection from the chill wind, if not the smell. A few scraggly specimens were availing themselves of this protection, scattered here and there under the pier, some sleeping in old boxes, but most exposed, many with newspapers draped over their bodies as their only protection against the night.
Two such people slept, their backs against one of the pilings, on this night. One was a bobcat, perhaps seventy years old - it was difficult to tell because his face was covered in dirt and grime. He was a small figure, perhaps four feet tall or less, and wore a tattered grey fedora hat and a frayed, ripped shirt whose color had long since been obscured by the detritus of the wharves.
The other figure was even smaller - a brown bear cub who wore a green pullover sweater that was much too large for him. The sweater had a faded yellow patch on one elbow. The boy had snuggled up against the old bobcat for warmth in his sleep, and the old man had reflexively thrown an arm over the boy's shoulder.
In the dim shadows of the pier, a tall, slender figure walked slowly towards the two sleepers. His feet crunched quietly in the sand and gravel under his feet - a few of the dispossessed souls started from sleep, and turned to stare at the figure as he slowly approached the bobcat and bearcub. He stopped a foot away, and knelt, silently, staring at the cub.
With a start, the cub awakened, and opened his eyes with a jerk. He looked up to see the tall figure's yellow eyes, fiercely gazing at him in the dark, and yelped softly.
"Wha...wha-" the bobcat mumbled as the boy's cry awakened him. "Who-"
"So, my little sewer rat. I don't imagine you expected to see me again." the tall figure, now revealed to be a crocodile in a black suit, cooed at the boy.
"Who are you?" the bobcat demanded, in a surprisingly robust voice.
Disdainfully, the croc put a boot on the old man's chest and shoved him over. "Shut up. My business is with this vermin. He has stolen something from me."
"I-I-I've never seen you before!" the cub stammered in a high-pitched voice.
"My pocketwatch, boy! I know you stole it - I chased you for six blocks! You're an elusive little weed, I'll grant you that. Easy enough to track down, though."
"Now just a minute -" the bobcat interrupted. The croc turned and viciously slapped him backhanded across the face, and he fell back to the sand.
"I won't warn you again, old man! My business with the boy will be completed without any interference from you!" He turned to the cub. "When I came here, I was just going to take my watch back and leave you a little - souvenir - to remember me by. But now you've gone and made me angry. I think I'll do a little public service instead." He advanced on the boy with a grin, and the cub cowered back even further.
"I-I'm not afraid of you!" the boy said with surprising defiance. The bobcat had sat up, and shook his head, dazed, a trickle of blood running from the corner of his mouth.
"You should be, boy, you should be..." he cooed, grasping the boy by the front of the sweater. "You're nothing but a scourge, sucking off the lifeblood of the decent people of Port Wallaby. You'll be a pest your whole life, sewer rat - so I'm going to do the city a favor and solve that problem now!" He pulled a large switchblade knife out of his coat pocket and pulled the boy off of the ground.
With a startled cry, the croc dropped the boy, who rolled to his feet, eyes blazing with fear. The old bobcat had sunk his teeth into the croc's arm with a vicious bite. The croc shook his arm wildly, finally dislodging the old bobcat, and turned to look for the boy.
"Run, boy! Get out!" the old bobcat yelled, and the boy stumbled, started to run away, as the croc took a step in his direction, raising the knife. "Aiyee!" the croc screamed, causing the boy to look back. The bobcat had attached himself to the croc's leg and was ferociously biting his ankle.
The cub ran, blindly, his thoughts a whirl. He took a final glance back, saw the silhouette raise the knife and strike down, fiercely, once, then twice. The boy turned and ran, and did not look back again. Tears rolled down his cheeks.
Kit woke, with a start, and looked around him, momentarily disoriented. His nightshirt was soaked through with sweat. A sob escaped his chest, another. He looked at the large figure laying on the bed a few feet away. Baloo!
"L'il Britches? L'il Britches!" the grey bear rolled over, sleepily stared at the cub in the moonlight that streamed through the open window, carried in on warm tropical breezes.
"I-I-I'm OK, Papa Bear." the cub stammered. "I had a - nightmare." He sobbed again, softly.
"Some nightmare kid - ya OK?" the big bear said with concern in his voice.
"I'm fine, Papa Bear, I'm....all right, go back to sleep." Kit closed his eyes, and turned away, squeezing out tears that rolled down his cheeks. He lay in bed for a few moments, but the images of his sleep would not leave his mind. He thought he had locked them away, but somehow he never could. Involuntarily, he sobbed again.
He heard the bedsprings creak, and rolled over to find that Baloo had sat down on his bed. Silently, the big bear leaned back and put his arm around Kit's shoulders, drawing the cub's head onto his chest. The pilot's legs dangled over the edge of the small bed. Kit lay still, for long moments, listening to the big bear's slow, rhythmic breathing, and sleep finally came.
Part I
Baloo already had breakfast on the table by the time Kit Cloudkicker slowly walked down the stairs and sat down silently. He stirred at his cereal for a few moments, then sat back in his chair with a sigh.
"Didn't sleep too good last night, huh Kid?" the big pilot said as he sat at the table and unpeeled a banana.
"Just a bad dream, Papa Bear. I get 'em, sometimes. Thanks for, for..."
"No problem L'il Britches. We all have bad dreams. Don't worry about it. We got that drop in Santa Calista today, I need your eyes with me for that one. Ever' time I try to go to that place, I get lost. Whole island's surrounded by fog most o' the time."
"No problem, skipper, I got it." The boy took a few dispirited gulps of his cereal, and got up and headed for the door. "Gonna take a walk around for a few minutes. I think I need the air. Don't leave without me!"
Baloo watched the boy go with concern in his eyes. "There sure is a lot of stuff in that head of his." he thought. "And he don't tell me most of it, neither."
Kit walked slowly along the water, watching the sun begin it's slow climb into the brilliant Cape Suzette sky. He stopped, bent over to pick up a large, flat stone, and sent it skipping across the water. Like he did in nearly all types of skill games, the boy excelled in this one - the stone skipped six times before settling into the harbor.
The cub inhaled deeply - even this early, the air was warm! Maybe that's why Kit loved Cape Suzette so much - he had been cold for so long, so often that the balmy climate of Cape Suzette was like a blanket that he never took off. How much would he have paid for a blanket, on all those frigid nights in Port Wallaby and Freeburg!
Thinking about Port Wallaby reminded Kit of his dream of the night before. He sighed. Kit hadn't dreamed of the old man in months. He closed his eyes hard, trying to blot out the images, but they wouldn't go away. Those cold yellow eyes, the first thing he had seen when he roused from sleep - but even worse, the look on the old mans face as he told Kit to run, knowing he was signing his own death sentence...
Kit shook his head fiercely, trying to shake the memory out. "This is no good!" he muttered to himself. "You have to fly today, Baloo needs you." The cub sighed again. There he was again - taking to the skies to forget his problems on the ground. There was always another plane, another map, another cargo run - there was always another flight. And Baloo needed him.
Baloo tossed Kit's cereal bowl into the sink. "Kid takes after his Papa Bear!" he said to no one. "Plenty o' time to wash that later." The big bear headed towards the door, hesitated, and returned. He opened a drawer and took out an envelope. He sat back down at the table and set the envelope down in front of him.
GREATER USLAND DEPARTMENT OF CHILD WELFARE
CAPE SUZETTE BRANCH
1273 SUZETTE CIRCLE
CAPE SUZETTE, USLAND
The return address stared back at him, as it had every time he had sneaked a look at the envelope - which was just about every time Kit had left the house. He opened the envelope, taking the inoccuous looking one page letter out to once again to stare at it's contents. They hadn't changed either.
"Dear Mr. Baloo:
This letter is to inform you that a meeting has been set up for 11:00 on the morning of the 17th to discuss the child custody situation regarding the minor male Kit Cloudkicker, aged 13 years. Please be prepared to spend at least an hour in my office at that time.
In order to facilitate the procedures, please bring any and all documentation as relates to the aforementioned minor, including but not limited to: birth certificate(s), medical and dental records, and academic records. We reserve the right to schedule additional
meetings as needed.
Sincerely,
Hugo Bossy
Child Custody Specialist
"Cape Suzette - We Care About Our Kids"
Baloo folded the letter, put it back into the envelope, and leaned back in his chair. He sure hoped he knew what he was doing. That talk with Khan had been all well and good, but this was pretty serious business. And Baloo had never fared too well with serious business.
"Morning!" Rebecca called, strolling through the door, boxes in both hands. Behind her, Baloo could hear Molly and Wildcat engaged in some kind of animated discussion. Rebecca looked at the envelope, and then around the room. "Where's Kit?"
"Takin' a walk." Baloo shrugged. "Kid had a nightmare last night - seemed really shook up. Didn't get much shuteye."
"That's a shame!" Rebecca said with a frown. "Poor Kit. Uh, Baloo, that letter isn't going to rewrite itself, you know. You'll just have to live with it as it is."
"I know, Beckers. But I just can't help worryin'. You know me and official type stuff. I'm Mr. Screwup. Only I can't afford to screw this one up."
Rebecca put the boxes down on her desk. "Well, if those stuffed-shirt beaurocrats take little things like loving someone into consideration, you'll breeze through in a snap." she said angrily.
"Hope yer right Becky!" the big pilot said, stuffing the envelope back in the drawer. "What's in the boxes?"
"Our financial records for the last year, Baloo. I'm straightening out the books today, once and for all. And I'll be darned if I'm going to pay some hotshot accountant to do it for me when I'm perfectly capab-"
Baloo laughed "OK, Miz Manager, whatever you say. I just hope the next check you write for gas doesn't bounce higher than a Kangaroo on ten cups o' coffee!"
Molly came running into the office, clutching her beloved doll Lucy tightly in her arms. "Baloo, look what Lucy's got! A new backpack! Isn't it neat!"
Baloo scooped the six year-old into his arms. "I'll say, pigtails! Why it's almost as neat as, as...." with a flourish, he reached in and tweaked her nose. "This!"
The little girl squealed in delight. "Baloo, you're silly! Put me down. Lucy wants to walk!"
Baloo complied, just as Kit walked in the door. "Oh, hi, Miz Cunningham. Hiya Molly."
"Good morning, Kit. You look a little bit tired - are you sure you're up to the run today?"
"Oh, I'm fine Miz Cunningham, no problem."
Molly ran up to Kit and grabbed him by the bottom of his sweater. "Kit! I wanna play tail-gunner!"
"Not now, Molly, I gotta go fly with Baloo now, we'll play later, okay?"
"Tail gunner! Tail gunner!" the girl repeated loudly. Finally, Kit relented, and bent over for the yellow cub to jump up on his back. He ran wild circles around the room as the girl practiced her aim. "Ack-ack-ack! Ack-ack-ack!" she yelled gleefully.
Winded, the boy at last set the girl down in the overstuffed chair with a thud. Leaning over the arm of the chair, he ruffled her air, while she reached up and pulled his cap down over his eyes. "You're gettin' good, Small-fry! Those pirates aren't gonna stand a chance!"
She slowly pulled Kit's cap back up. "I wish you were my big brother, so we could play alla time, instead o' just when I come over here."
"Molly!" the girl's mother admonished.
Kit blushed. "That's OK, Kiddo. I'm your brother where it counts - here!' He began tickling under her chin. Screaming, she retaliated, tickling the boy under his arms, causing a fit of wild giggling.
"Shoulda known better, Kit - yer more ticklish than Molly anyday!" Baloo said with a laugh. "Time to hit the clouds, L'il Britches."
"I wanna hit the clouds too!" Molly cried.
"The only thing you'll be hitting are your books, young lady! You promised to study for your spelling test while Mommy worked today, remember?" Rebecca said sternly.
"Awwwww!" the girl moaned.
Kit leaned over close. "Tell you what -I'll bring you a present from Santa Calista. And here's a down payment on it right now!" He enveloped the girl in a hug. "And don't forget - spelling's important. You don't wanna grow up and not be able to skywrite, do you?"
"Okay, Kit!" Molly replied, returning Kit's hug. The boy walked over to the door, giving Rebecca a wink as he passed, prompting a grateful smile in return.
The flight to Santa Calista had been routine, at least by Baloo's standards. No pirates, no idols, no missed deadlines. The island had been surrounded by it's usual thick blanket of fog, but Kit's keen eyes and unerring sense of direction had brought them in without any problems. The only strange thing was, Kit hadn't said two words to Baloo during the entire flight except to issue course corrections. He had sat, chin in hand, staring out the window of the Sea Duck, only changing perspective to occasionally check the aviation maps. Baloo, his own mind more than usually occupied, hadn't interrupted the cub's reverie.
"Six degrees south by eleven west, Papa Bear. I know ya can't see it, but there _is_ sky out there."
"Yer the navigator L'il Britches. This fog drives me nuts! Nuthin' worse than not bein' able to see where I'm goin'."
Within a few moments they cleared the fog, and the blue expanse of the South Pacific once again spanned out beneath them. Kit, a blue pygmy doll with a "Santa Calista" T-shirt sharing his seat, resumed his study of the world outside the right front window of the Sea Duck. Baloo, silent for far longer than was good for him, was in a more talkative mood.
"I'd offer ya a penny fer your thoughts, L'il Britches, but I'm broke." he offered. No response.
"I'll give ya my two cents worth, but you'll hafta make change!" Kit turned, chuckled lightly, and resumed his vigil.
"Wanna hear me mangle folk songs?" _That_ always seemed to amuse the kid. After a moment, the boy turned, and took his red and blue baseball cap off, working it between his fingers - always a sure sign that he was troubled by something. "What's up, Kid? Still thinkin' about that dream last night?"
"Baloo, I-. You remember that whole business, with Shere Khan? With the job, an' everything?"
"Hoo-wee! Sure do, Kiddo! That was one wild weekend. Thought ol' Karny was gonna fry yer bacon for sure that time! What about it?"
"Well, I...Ballo, I didn't really tell you everything about that weekend, about Shere Khan."
"Whaddaya mean Kiddo? You kin tell ol' Papa Bear!"
"Baloo, he didn't just - didn't just want me to take a job with Khan Industries. There was - more to it than that."
Baloo frowned, choosing his words carefully - for a change. "Yer a great navigator, Kiddo -don't get me wrong. The best. And nobody knows his way around a map or a chart like you do. But....well, I kinda figgered there had to be somethin' else goin' on there. Ol' moneybags don't do anything unless he's got some good reason, and it usually involves more shaboozies in his pockets."
Kit frowned. "He's not such a bad - well, anyways, I guess - I guess I just wanna be honest with you. He said he wanted me to take over his company someday."
"Wow!" Baloo said - that was not he'd expected to hear.
"Yeah, he said that there's no...protege to take over the company when he's gone. He wanted me to, you know, learn the businesses, an' all that, and take over when he - well - ."
"Well pop my peepers! Ain't that a kick. Ol' Khanny wants L'il Britches to run his show!"
Kit closed his eyes and pinched the brow of his nose, a surprisingly adult gesture, Baloo thought. "Baloo, he - he said he wanted me to be his ward."
"His WHAT?"
"His ward, you know. His heir. He said that the only way I could take over and not have all the legal mumbo-jumbo was to be his legal ward. He would - you know - adopt me..."
Baloo sat in stunned silence. This cast his conversation with Khan in a startling new light - not to mention the letter he had recently received. "Why - why didn't ya tell me about this, L'il Britches?"
"Oh, I don't know, Baloo. I just....it was a lot to think about, and then with everything else, when Karnage came along...and Sasha, I just tried to forget about it."
"Do you - Do you....are you thinkin' about it, L'il Britches?"
Kit looked sadly at his friend. "I did, Baloo - I really did. He has an amazing life. All of his planes, his offices, houses, even Buzz's helicopter! And he - well, he even let me fly the takeoff in his Ct-75, Papa Bear."
Baloo was stung by that one. "Ct-75. Wow. Geez, Lil Britches, I kinda thought, you know, your first time flying...."
Kit smiled ruefully. "It wasn't really flying, Baloo. Take-offs are easy - it's the landings that are hard, remember? He took the stick before we even got to the cliffs. He was just trying to-whatever."
"Kid, if - if it's something you want, I could never-"
"No!" Kit shouted. "No - I meant everything I told you, Papa Bear. I don't want to be anyone else anymore except who I am. That's not why I'm telling you all this..."
"Why ARE you tellin' me all this, Kid? You didn't hafta. I never woulda found out!"
Kit held the cap in front of his face for a moment, in frustration. "I don't _know_, Papa Bear. I just... wanted to tell you, that's all. Every time I ever try to lie to anybody, they get really hurt. I'm tired of getting people hurt."
"That's a strange way to put it, Kiddo."
"Khan wasn't bad to me, Baloo. He really did seem like he wanted me to do this. I think he's - I think he's kind of lonely....I don't think he has any friends."
They sat in silence for a few moments, each lost in his own thoughts. Without turning, Baloo finally spoke. "Must be tough, bein' an orphan , huh?"
Kit looked at Baloo, surprised by the question. "What do you mean?"
Baloo looked down. "Y'know, not havin' any folks, livin' on your own. Even now, not having any real parents, or anythin'..."
Kit seemed wounded by Baloo's answer. He looked away, out the window. "You get used to it."
"Was it - it must have been hard to turn down...to decide not to be adopted like that."
"It was easy, Baloo. I just had to stop and think for a minute. It wasn't a tough decision." He looked back at Baloo. "All that's just official stuff anyways."
"Kid, if - well, if it were possible, do ya think you'd - well, would you want to..."
Kit stared intently at his friend. "What?"
"Would you want to be...MY kid? Ya know, official-like?"
Kit picked up the pygmy doll and stared at it for a moment. Why was Baloo asking him this _now_- after all this time? "Would you want to?" Baloo asked again.
Kit closed his eyes. "I want it more than anything." he said, very softly.
They sat for a while, neither bear nor cub saying anything. The brilliant blue Pacific stretched on endlessly beneath the yellow seaplane, occasionally dotted by small palm-covered islands. Cape Suzette was off in the distance somewhere, where the azure sky met the azure ocean. Wordlessly, the big pilot reached out his hand and grabbed the boy's shoulder. He shook it softly once, twice, then patted it and pulled his hand away. The cub looked over and grinned. They passed the rest of the flight in silence.
It was a wharf bar, much like any wharf bar -filthy, loud and smelly. Sometime in the place's history it's owner had tried to institute a maritime motif, no doubt to "class up" the place - remnants of ship's wheels, anchors, and languid seascapes still dotted the walls, here and there. But mostly it had been covered over in dirt, rust and broken glass, and now whatever distinction it had once had was submerged behind the detritus of a thousand drunken revelries.
Don Karnage looked around him in disgust. This was the sort of dump that he had thought he was finished with twenty years ago. Still, at least now he had arrived in Cape Heron his own plane - a new, bright red and specially customized CT-37 that would be the envy of his old cohorts on the Iron Vulture. And he wore fineries befitting a wolf of his stature and elegance - a splendid azure silk shirt and white trousers. Far better than the rags he had been forced to wear so recently...
Building a pirate empire was never easy - Karnage should know, he had done it once already. To have to bribe, cajole, and intimidate from scratch, after all these years... Still, success would be that much sweeter the second time around.
He strolled up to the bartender, a hulking walrus with a bushy mustache and a toothy sneer that seemed carved on his face to accompany his filthy apron. "Scoozi, my fetid friend, I am look-"
"Name's Mika!" the bartender snarled.
"Yes, indeed." Karnage had still not grown accustomed to being spoken to like any other wharf rat, and he never would. "In any case, _Mika_ I am looking for a fellow, hees name is Drill, perhaps you tell me where to find this man, yes-no?"
"In the back." the barkeep snarled with a point of the finger. With a disdainful last look at the bartender - such a lack of fashion sense! - He followed the walrus' gesture towards a smoky room at the back of the bar.
So, the fellow had decided to show up - this was good. That was the first hurdle to overcome in dealing with thieves and scoundrels - they often missed their appointments. Karnage entered and surveyed the room. A few tables, a dart board that hung crookedly from the wall in one corner, a badly disfigured pool table at which three pelicans were engaging in a heated billiards match. And, at one of the tables, two grey coyotes, one dressed in a puffy green shirt, the other a ratty black sweater.
Karnage approached the table and extended a red paw to the coyote in the black sweater. "Karnage." the man replied in a gravelly voice, shaking the proffered hand.
Karnage took a seat at the table. "Most deliciousness to see you again, my plundering friend. It has been a long time. And this must be the legendary Garrote, yes?"
"Save yer flattery, Karnage." the green-shirted coyote barked in a high, delicate voice. "Say yer piece and make it quick. I ain't got much patience fer fancy talkin'."
Karnage sighed. To have to prostitute himself this way, and to pirates of such lackluster style..."Very well, irritable one. I believe you will find that I am a man who means beezness, yes-no? What news, Drill?"
The coyote took a long swill of his drink and belched. "You heard right, Karnage. There's a lot of us out there who aren't happy with the way things are bein' run right now. Too many soft bellies where they don't belong.....Word is, there's even grumblin' on the Vulture."
"Excellemundo!" the wolf said with a grin. It was as he had hoped. "There will be a time of reckoning, my friends, and it will be a time-"
"Hold it Karnage" Garrote interrupted. "Nobody said nuthin' about you. Maybe there's bucs out there that's not likin' things. No reason they should want to get themselves involved with a washout like you."
Reflexively, Karnage reached for his absent sword, causing the two coyotes to reach to their belts. With a visible effort, the red wolf brought himself under control. Later...there would be time for this later...."Indeed, my friend, you are wise to be skeptical. Things have changed, yes-no? Those at the top have come to the _bottom_, is this not so?" he asked pointedly.
"Yet still, my noble friends, there will be those who remember the not-so-long ago gloriousness of Don Karnage, si'? Those who will remember the days when all of the South Pacific trembled at the mention of air pirates."
"It's a bloody country club now!" Drill mumbled.
"Indeed!" These fools were so simple, so easy to manipulate! "The waters will once again run red, my friends. All we must do is to be spreading the word, yes? That Don Karnage has returned, and he is gathering his strength."
"Gonna take more'n that, Wolf!" Garoote snapped.
"Ah yes, down to the beezness, yes-no? Excellamundo! Indeed you are correct, fiery one. I believe that our new army will require some - proof - of my seriousness, yes-no?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small stack of bills. "Walla-Walla Bing-Bang Bucks, my friends. These, perhaps, will provide some incentive for those wavering in their convictions. I believe that these will prove useful to you as you - discuss - the situation with our new recruits, yes?"
"It's a start." the green-shirted coyote said gruffly.
"Yes, my friends, what is needed now is for the word to be spread - for every port and every wharf to hear of the triumphant return of the dread Captain Karnage. And since I am unable to be speaking to them all in my voice, you will be doing the speaking for me, yes-no?"
"Why should we, Karnage? Why should we go out and do your leg work for you?" Drill demanded.
"A fair question, yes? And a fair answer. There are many, many more where these came from." he said, gesturing at the bills. "I give you a small taste of them now. You give a small taste of them to our new - friends. They see that I am serious about my business, yes? And, my fellow plunderers, may I also say this - I am, as they say, the greatest pirate of all times, is it not so?"
Karnage stood, leaned across the table to stare at his cohorts. "I have held riches beyond your puny imaginations. I have commanded armies of pirates that could storm a small city. And when I am once again in my rightful place, it is those who helped me now who will be in a position to most benefit, yes? Don Karnage will no' forget those who helped to regain what is rightfully his". The wolf pulled a knife out of pocket, raised it over his head and stabbed it into the old wooden table with a crack. "An' I will no' be forgetting those who opposed me, my felonious friends. I will no' be forgetting them either - _yes-no_?" He flashed his teeth in a grin, eyes blazing, and sat back down.
The two coyotes sat staring at the knife for a moment. Finally, Drill spoke. "Gonna take some time."
"And more shaboozies than that." chimed in Garotte.
"Ah, my boys, thees is no' a problem! As you can see - " he pulled out another stack of bills and placed it with the first - "There are lots of little green friends for our lonely bills, yes-no? And time is also something I have plenty of. In fact there is some - personal business - that I want to attend to, and this will give me a perfecto chance to do so, yes?
And, should you be deciding to make an unwise choice and vamooso with my little friends here-" he gestured to the money - "Rest assured that I will be most displeased when we meet again."
The wolf reached for his knife, extracted it from the table, and stood. "Dream, my small-minded dogs - dream tonight of the riches that will be ours that will overflow your tiny imaginations! And dream of the terror that will fill the eyes of your victim persons when they know that you are the honored elite of Don Karnage! In two weeks, I meet you back here, yes-no? And, no doubt, you will joined by many friends, old and new, yes? Excellamundo!" Karnage tucked the knife into his belt, spun neatly on his heels and strode out of the bar.
Baloo walked through the revolving door of Khan Tower, his stomach turning loops. He was never comfortable meeting with Khan, especially on his own turf. And today's business was substantially serious enough to give Baloo the willies anyway. He approached the reception desk and the elderly woman who sat behind it.
Before the bear had a chance to speak, the receptionist greeted him. "Ah yes, it's Mr. Baloo, isn't it." She looked down at him over her glasses. "Do you have an appointment, Mr. Baloo?"
"Ahem, no M'aam, no appointment, but I need to see Mr. Khan. It's real important."
"Sweetie, Mr. Khan is extremely busy today, he's not seeing-"
Baloo leaned over the desk. "Please m'aam - if you could just tell Mr. Khan it's Baloo. I need to speak with him about a - contract - between us. Won't take long. Please, if you could just tell 'im."
The old woman sighed dramatically. "Very well, I'll tell him you're here. Please wait." She pressed the intercom button on her desk. "Mr. Khan, sorry to disturb you sir-"
"Yes, Mrs. Snarly? You know I have that meeting with Wilson this afternoon." Khan's cool voice buzzed impatiently through the speaker.
"Yes sir. It's Mr. Baloo - he says he needs to speak with you about a 'contract'."
There was a pause at the other end. "Very well, show him up, Mrs. Snarly."
The old woman looked up. "You may go up, Mr. Baloo." But the bear had already sprinted past the desk towards the elevator.
As the elevator made it's climb, Baloo took off his cap and nervously held it in front of him. Finally, the door opened, and Baloo stepped out into Khan's office. The lush jungle of green foliage was as thick and dense as ever, and the tiger stood behind the mammoth desk, hands behind his back, staring out the window.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Baloo. You may have five minutes of my time. Please, do sit down." The tiger turned and sat at his desk.
Baloo sat down, hat in hand. "Hiya Mr. Khan. Sorry to disturb ya and all-"
"It's your time, Mr. Baloo. I suggest you not waste it on apologies."
"Right, sorry. Sorry! I mean - aw, fergit it. I wanna talk about our - agreement - about Kit."
"Yesss?" the tiger asked, clasping his paws together bemusedly.
"Well sir, I mean, well, the Child Welfare Department called me in for a meetin' -"
"Is that a fact?" the tiger said cooly.
"Yeah, it's a fact Khanny. I was wondering if you - if ya knew anything about why."
"As I told you before, Mr. Baloo, I never break a deal."
Baloo, unsure quite what to make of the tiger's cryptic answers, tried again. "Did ya set that meeting up, Mr. Khan? Cause I never talked to ya since that night at Higher for Hire-"
The tiger rose, turned again to stare out the window. "Mr. Baloo. In my view our agreement was based on the young man coming to a decision. It is my understanding that the young man came to a decision. Mmyes. I will repeat again, Sir, I always keep my promises, and I never go back on a deal. I will not tell you that again, Mr. Baloo. I have kept my end of the deal. What happens between you and the Child Welfare Department is your decision."
Baloo stared at the tiger's powerful back. Perhaps that was as good an answer as he could have hoped to get. "How did you know Kit came to any decisions, Mr. Khan?"
The tiger turned, leaned across the desk and looked Baloo in the eye. "I know many things, Mr. Baloo. Indeed, I know quite a bit about young Mr. Cloudkicker's background, if you'd like to share in that information-"
"No!" Baloo said hastily. "I mean... that's Kit's department. It's his life. If he wants to tell me any o' that stuff, he will. Until then, I don't need to know."
The tiger stared at Baloo, a strange look in his eyes. "He is a remarkable young man, Mr. Baloo. In fact, I would venture to say that I have not seen his like before." Khan walked around the desk and offered his hand to the surprised pilot, who, standing, shook it. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have important matters to attend to this afternoon. You are dismissed."
Baloo had already decided on the walk back from Khan's office that it would be best not to mention anything to Kit about his meeting with the Child Welfare Board until the picture had clarified itself a little more. No point getting the boy's hopes up - or worrying him needlessly, depending on how you looked at it. You never really sure quite what you were getting with Khan, Baloo thought - even his straight answers seemed kinda crooked when you thought about them afterwards. Maybe that's why he was so successful in the corporate world.
Still, he wanted to talk to the Kid - just felt like he wanted to spend as much time as possible with him at the moment. He walked into Higher for Hire with a wave at Becky, seated at her desk still trying to figure out the financial records. Some one day job that'd turned out to be!
"Hiya, Boss Lady. Kit home from school?"
"He's upstairs, Baloo. And Baloo-" she shouted at the pilot, who had started bouncing upstairs, "Why exactly did you spend $87 on avocado dip last March? And expense it to the company?"
"Sorry, Beckers, no time ta talk now. I'll check my avocado file and git back to ya." Baloo was surprised to find the bedroom door closed. Knocking, he entered the room to find Kit seated on the bed, holding his green sweater and looking at it with a sad expression.
"Hi Baloo." the boy said dispiritedly.
"Hey, L'il Britches, what's up? You seem kinda down in the dumps."
Kit smiled sadly. "You know what, Papa Bear? This old sweater doesn't fit me anymore. I've outgrown it."
Come to think of it, Baloo _had_ noticed the boy's arms sticking out a lot further than the sleeves lately. He sat on the bed next to the cub. "It happens, kiddo. All part o' life. That stuff ya can't change."
Kit ran his hands over the sweater. "What's the big deal, L'il Britches? It's just a sweater. I got plenty o' old sweaters an' stuff around here, or we could get ya somethin' downtown if you want."
Kit sighed, continuing to run his hands fondly over the worn fabric. He lingered over the faded elbow patch, once yellow but now a dingy white. "I never told you where I got this sweater from, did I Papa Bear?"
Baloo gave the cub's shoulder a gentle squeeze - this seemed to be bothering Kit more than it should. "No, Britches, ya never did. I'd like to hear it, tho'."
Kit looked straight ahead, his eyes seeing images invisible to Baloo. "Well, you know I told you I was with the air pirates for about a year before we met. But before that, I spent a lot of time just kind of moving around, staying alive. I was almost ten years old... " Closing his eyes, the cub continued his story.
"I was in an orphanage for a while, but I didn't like it. Too many rules, and nothing to do. What I really wanted to do was fly. So one day I went out with a bunch of kids to play baseball. When the ball went over the fence, I said I'd go after it. And I just kept going - I never came back.
I didn't have any of my stuff, at all - but I never owned much of anything at the orphanage anyways. I went into town and snuck onto a produce truck and just rode with it as far as it went. We were on the road for a long time - I don't know how long, but it was dark when we stopped. I had eaten a bunch of apples an' stuff on the truck, and I stuffed my pockets with as much fruit as I could fit and snuck off before the driver checked the load.
We were on the outskirts of some town, I didn't know where. I walked around for a little while, just trying to see what the place was like. I wasn't far from an airfield, so I jumped the fence and went exploring around the planes in the dark. It was great - I was in heaven. I knew a lot about planes an' stuff from books and - other ways. By that time I was pretty good at hiding, and it was late, so nobody spotted me. Finally, I saw a cargo plane - a Conwing L-11 - and went over to check it out.
The cargo door was unlocked, so I opened it and snuck inside the plane. It was carrying a load of dry goods - flour, sugar, stuff like that. The plane was full, so I figured he'd be leaving for somewhere tomorrow. I burrowed down in among the sacks and went to sleep.
When I woke up, I peeked my head up and it was light out. Then I turned around, and the pilot was right there staring at me! I was dug way down in among the bags an' stuff, so I couldn't get away. He pulled me up by the arms and looked me over - I wasn't sure whether he was gonna hit me, or turn me into the police, or just throw me off his plane.
He asked me if I needed a ride somewhere, which came as a total surprise to me! I said sure, wherever he was going was fine. He asked me where my parents where, and I told him I didn't have any. He just said "I hope you know what yer' doin', Kid."
I was pretty wary - I was expecting him to double-cross me or something. I asked him why he was gonna let a stowaway fly for free on his plane. He took me outside and pointed to a little mark on the hull - and that was the first time I'd ever seen the Friendly Flight sign. He said that any plane that had that sign was a plane that would give travelers - hobos - a ride, and no word to the police. He asked me for my word that I had no parents, and I swore it was true. He said "Well, if you want a ride I'm goin' to Port Wallaby, and you can stick around if you want. But it gets mighty cold there this time of year."
When we got to Port Wallaby, he gave me $10 and told me to take care of myself, and to never get on a plane that didn't have a friendly sign. I promised him I wouldn't and thanked him. That was the last I saw of him.
I was pretty excited at first - I was in a totally new place, new faces, everything else. We were near the ocean, and that's where I ended up - that's where all the hobos ended up.
It was a pretty horrible place. People were sleeping on the streets, under the pier, anywhere they could. And that pilot was right - it was cold! And every day it was getting colder and colder.
After I'd been there a few weeks, my money was gone, an' I was pretty miserable. I was stealing whatever food I could find, and - other stuff too. There was this old man - Jasper -who had lived on the streets in Port Wallaby for as long as anybody could remember. He was a real legend among the hobos there. I guess he saw me, an' he felt sorry for me, so he kind of started to - you know, look after me.
By this time it was really cold. People died there in the winter. We were camped out in an old building, an' I'd never been so cold in my life. Jasper was wearing this old green sweater - he wasn't a big guy - and out of the blue, he just takes it off and puts it on me! An' he was wearing just a thin shirt underneath! "You need it more than me, son." he told me. "My bones have been frozen so many times I can't even feel 'em anymore. Not right a little fella like you should ever have to have that happen to them."
I didn't know what to say to him.....I was just so glad to have that sweater. It was way too big for me then, but I didn't care. And I - I've had it ever since."
Kit opened his eyes, and breathed heavily. He looked back down at the sweater and hugged it to his chest.
Baloo wasn't quite sure what to say. This was the most Kit had ever told him about his past - even if it did raise as many questions as it answered. "What - what happened to Jasper, L'il
Britches?"
The boy closed his eyes, tightly. "He died."
"I'm sorry, Kiddo. Ya said he was pretty old, an' all-"
Kit glared at him. "No! He - I - never mind. I don't wanna talk about it." The boy tossed the sweater to the ground and lay back on the bed.
Baloo picked up the sweater and set it next to the cub gently. "You wanna keep this, Kid. I know. It has a lot o' memories. I wish I'd been there for you then, but I wasn't. And yer a different person now." The bear walked over to the closet and opened it. "I got an old jacket in here somewhere....here it is!" He turned back to Kit. "I wore this when I was about your age or a little older... be too big for ya, but you'll grow into it." He tossed a dusty old leather bomber jacket to the boy.
Kit reached out for the jacket and stared at it for a moment. He hugged it in both arms and rolled over to face away from Baloo. The big bear left the room and closed the door behind him.
Karnage walked into the small coffee shop quite casually. He was dressed in what were, for him, quite unusually drab clothes - a gray suit, with a gray fedora hat perched atop his head. He sat down at the counter and the waitress approached. "What can I get ya, Hon?"
"Yes, Senorita, una copa de caffe, Si? Grazie!" The waitress scurried off. There was this about not having a pirate army, Karnage thought to himself - it certainly makes it easier to get in and out of a place unnoticed!
There was a newspaper on the stool next to Karnage, which he reached over and grabbed. He paroused the headlines with a sneer. "Khan Reports Record Earnings". The old fool! Let him play his silly-type corporate games - Don Karnage could have him begging for mercy any time he wanted.
Karnage gulped down his coffee, threw the newspaper aside. This would not be a long visit in Cape Suzette. There would be time for those later. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a man sitting in a booth, staring at him sidelong. Karnage glanced over, and the man immediately looked away. This would not do - the last thing he needed were any unnecessary entanglements now, just because some fool had recognized him. Hurriedly he tossed a quarter on the counter and walked out.
Don Karnage surveyed the scene before him - people everywhere, scurrying along to their daily nothing lives. And here he stood, virtually anonymous, among them. How impossible would that have seemed once. And soon , they would cringe in terror again at the mere mention of his name. But for now, he was content to allow them their petty concerns uninterrupted. His business was with one boy, and one boy only.
Baloo sat glumly at the kitchen table, prompting a stare from Rebecca, still hunched over her desk. "Baloo is something wrong? I heard the door close upstairs."
"Kit wanted to be alone. He's - he outgrew his sweater."
"He what?!"
"He outgrew his sweater, Beckers. It don't fit him anymore."
Rebecca sighed. WHY did she never understand what the man was talking about? "Baloo, is there something wrong with Kit? And where were you all day?"
Baloo shifted nervously. "I had some business, downtown."
"What kind of business?" Rebecca asked suspiciously.
"I hadda meet an - old friend.. That's all Beckers."
Rebecca stood up and walked over to Baloo. :"You know," she said gently, putting her hand on his back, "You really should tell Kit what's going on, with the State and all."
Baloo sighed. "You just let me handle this my way, Beckers. I'm gettin' him used to the idea. Why should I get him all worked up when there's nuthin' he can do anyways? He's worked up enough as it is."
Rebecca sat down next to the big bear. "There _is_ something wrong with Kit, isn't there Baloo? I've seen it for a while, he just hasn't been himself."
Baloo looked away, out the window, for a moment, the returned his gaze. "Rebecca, I don't know what to do with that boy. He's got so much - stuff - he's carryin' around with 'im. He doesn't want to tell me about it."
Rebecca patted his hand. "You know Baloo, he lived a long time before he came here. You and I don't know what he went through, what his life was like..."
Baloo pounded the table with his fist fiercely, in a rare bout of anger. "My goodness Baloo!" the startled woman gasped. "What? What is it?"
"Don't you see, Beckers?" the big pilot said. "All this stuff he has in his head, all this stuff that's happened to him - it's eatin' him up! It's killin' him! What kinda terrible things did he have to live through? And there's nothin' I can do about it! Nothin'! I wish I coulda been there, to protect him, stop all that stuff from happening to him! But I wasn't! I wasn't there for him, and because of that, _no_body was there! The kid had nobody in his life except for pirates and thugs and God knows what else!"
Rebecca enveloped the bear in a sideways hug. "Baloo, there's nothing you could've done, don't you see that? You didn't even know Kit, there's nothing you could've done..."
"I know, Beckers. But it just ain't fair!. Who knows what that kid had to had to go through - alone! He's a good kid! Why can't he just let himself be happy? And there's nothin I can do." The big bear buried his face in his hands.
Rebecca had never seen her friend give himself over to anger - and hurt - like this before. She lay her head on his shoulder. "Baloo, you're doing everything you can do. Imagine what Kit's life would have been, if you hadn't been there for him when you were! All you can do is give him a home, where people love him, and let him know you'll listen whenever he wants to talk. Kit loves you, Baloo - he loves you more than anything in the world. Nothing bad can come of that, you'll see. When Kit has been here long enough, he'll be able to put all of the other stuff behind him. He'll do it when he's ready. You'll just have to help him along the way."
Baloo brought his hands up over his head, grabbed his cap roughly and twisted it in his hands. "I'da given anything, Becky - I'da given anything to be there, to protect that kid. It just ain't fair...."
To be continued...