This is the sequel to my previous fiction where Jake loses his eyesight. Enjoy.
I don't own anything, and I love reviews.
Nyte Kat
"To be blind is not miserable, not to be able to bear blindness, that is miserable." – John Milton
It was funny how, even in blindness Jake still would press his fingers against his eyes in a vain attempt to stave off a headache. Even more perplexing, was how, even though he couldn't see out of his eyes, he could still feel things in his eyes. Fishing out an eyelash or a wiping away some other irritant was still a clumsy action. He wondered how close he'd come to gouging out the useless body part with his own claws. At the moment, though, he wondered how much longer before he decided to do just that.
"How's it coming, sure-shot?" Chance patted Jake on the shoulder. He looked down at the motherboard of some unknown device and grimaced. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't have a clue what I'm staring at either."
Jake huffed and pushed Chance away. Chance frowned. It was one of those days. Since waking up to complete darkness, Jake had adjusted fairly well to not being able to see. There were still days, however, when his not-so-new-anymore handicap would get to him. Chance felt a little guilty. Jake's old nickname often brought him down. He wasn't a sure-shot anymore. He wasn't really useful at all anymore. In fact, if he had it to do over again and be given a choice for his debilitating handicap, he'd choose being paralyzed from the waist down. Sure, he wouldn't be able to fight crime that way either, but then he could still fix a computer, or a car. He could still watch the news alerts to see how T-Bone was doing. As it stood, he could use the toaster, wash dishes, and cautiously clean their small home. He was trying to learn Braille. He wanted desperately to immerse himself in something beyond distraction, but it was like trying to teach oneself French without knowing what the words mean. There is no "Learn Braille by Audio Cassette" program.
Carefully reigning in his temper, Jake set down the tangled mess of wire and who-knows-what-else and got up. He went to the refrigerator and pulled out a can, holding it up to where he hoped Chance was standing. "What is this?"
"Milk," Chance replied.
"Good. Thanks," Jake didn't exactly storm off into his bedroom, but it certainly wasn't with casual indifference to the current feeling of 'sucky-ness' in his life. Chance winced, expecting the slam of the door, but it never came. As if he wasn't even angry, Jake closed the door with a soft "click" and nothing more. Chance was caught in a mental debate on whether or not he should try to talk to Jake, but that was interrupted by the klaxon sounding loudly throughout their home. "Damn it!" Chance swore as he picked up the phone used for Swat Kat emergencies only. "Yes, Miss Briggs?" He made a face and dragged his free paw across it. "I'll be right there, Miss Briggs." He hung up. "Jake!"
"Yeah?" Funny, Chance didn't even hear the bedroom door open.
"It's the Metallikats. I…"
"I know," Jake did his best to disguise his disappointment. "Be careful, okay?"
"Always," Chance replied, clapping a heavy paw on Jake's shoulder.
Chance left and Jake fumbled around for the remote. Slowly, he flipped through the channels until he heard the sound of Ann Gora announcing an emergency in Megakat City. He lay on the couch, flat on his back as if staring at the ceiling. There wasn't a point in facing the television.
Chance stuffed the T-Bone costume into his locker with a sigh. He looked up at the tally marks on the wall. No more had been added since Razor was taken out of commission. He was considering calling it quits. With just one Swat Kat, there were more and more close calls. He couldn't put together the weapons that Razor could. He couldn't do the technology upgrades like Razor could. T-Bone was a pilot. For the first time, he felt like hanging up the mask for good.
Chance ascended the stairs back into their living area and sighed. This was going to be tough.
"Jake!" he yelled through the house. "Hey, buddy I'm home!" Chance looked around, a feeling of worry forming in the pit of his stomach. "Where are you, Jake?" He stopped in the kitchen, seeing the door open to the garage down the stairs. "Crud," Chance hissed, flipping on the light. Jake was sitting on the floor at the bottom of the stairs. "Jake, what are you doing?" Chance practically leapt over all the steps.
"I, uh, I heard something. I thought maybe Burke and Murray where here and I was going to check it out, but I tripped and I'm pretty sure I made enough noise to scare them off." Jake laughed half heartedly. "I think I twisted my ankle, though. Can you help me up?" Chance grabbed Jake by the wrists and pulled him to his feet. Jake hissed sharply as he tried to put pressure on his left foot. Without bothering to ask if he needed help up the stairs, Chance began to lead Jake back up into the kitchen. Once there, he sat him down in one of the chairs, pulling another one around for Jake to prop up the injured foot.
"So, I was thinking," Chance started as he filled a zipper lock bag with ice, "that maybe it was time to call it quits." He placed the ice pack on Jake's ankle.
"Jeez!" Jake jerked away. "A little warning next time," he glared in the direction Chance's voice came from. "And we can't quit. We still owe a lot of money."
"I'm talking about the Swat Kats." Chance bit his lip anxiously.
"You can't, Chance. I know it's a hard job for one kat, but this city needs T-Bone. The Enforcer's can barely tie their shoes, let alone handle Dark Crud." Jake tried to keep the hurt out of his voice. He wasn't a Swat Kat anymore, but he'd invested so much time into it that it seemed like such a waste to throw it away.
"Listen, Jake. This whole thing, it was your idea. And it doesn't seem right to go on without you. And even so, how long before what we have just isn't enough? Sure, I know enough to make a basic missile, but it's your know-how and your genius that has kept the Turbokat in the air for so long." For a fleeting moment, Chance was thankful for Jake's blindness. He couldn't see how much it hurt to admit he couldn't do this without him. Jake gnawed on a jagged claw, waiting for Chance to continue. "I can't keep doing this alone. And I don't trust anyone like I trust you to watch my six."
Jake slowly brought his paw back down to rest on his lap with the other. "What do you suggest we do? I'm not okay with just junking everything after all the work we've put into it." Chance sighed before speaking. "I was thinking that it was time the Swat Kats asked the deputy mayor for a favor. What do you say, buddy?"
Jake couldn't help but to feel like a teenager being handed the keys for the first time. "Does that mean I can come on this one?"
Even unable to read any of the instrument panels, or see through the canopy, Razor could feel his body shaking with adrenaline. Careful not to press any buttons, he drifted his paw across the panel in front of him, positive he knew what each button did. He, after all, was the one who programmed them and installed them.
T-Bone looked down at one of the last features Razor had installed before the illness. It was screen that monitored their heart rates. That way, if one of them was injured or about to pass out, the other would know. He couldn't help but grin at his partner's vital signs, and he'd be excited too. "You doing alright, sure shot?" T-Bone asked just to reassure himself.
"Affirmative," the big stupid grin Razor was wearing was more than obvious in his voice.
"I'm approaching the rooftop of her building now, so brace yourself for descent." T-Bone sounded all business as he reduced speed and adjust the VTOL engines so that he could ease down on to the building. "I told Miss Briggs that you had been injured and would no longer continue being a Swat Kat, so if you need help getting out, you aren't going to look like an idiot if I help you," T-Bone turned to look at Razor, who must have been thinking about just that because he looked extremely relieved.
Deputy Mayor Calico Briggs was shocked, to say the least, to see two kats inside the Turbokat instead of just one. When the canopy opened up, she nearly fainted when she recognized the smaller kat as Razor. "Could he be returning," she thought, but was disappointed when T-Bone practically lifted him out of the cockpit and down from the jet.
Jake jerked with surprise when he felt two soft paws on his face. "Razor," she said. "Miss Briggs," he replied. He felt suddenly awkward and unsure of himself and backed out of her reach. Callie, feeling as if she'd done something wrong, dropped her paws to her sides and was all business again as she turned towards T-Bone. "You said you needed a favor."
"Miss Briggs," T-Bone started, unsure of how to approach the subject. He looked at Razor and sighed. It was best to juts bite the bullet. "I think it's time for the Swat Kats to retire."
"What? But you can't! I need you. The city needs you!" She gasped out in shock.
"We understand, but, as selfish as this may sound, I can't keep doing this alone, and I refuse to work with someone I don't trust. We think it's time that somebody else be given the opportunity to wear the mask." T-Bone spoke softly. "I don't trust the Enforcers, but if they were to create a special ops program, designed to train pilots to do what we do, we would be willing to give them our Turbokat, and other creations so that they can continue to protect the city the way we have."
"I don't understand. You've done so well, even by yourself. Why?" Callie looked heartbroken.
"Miss Briggs," Razor spoke so softly she almost missed it. "The truth is that," Razor stopped for a moment and swallowed. He hadn't put this into words on his own accord. So far it had been T-Bone saying it for him and it was harder than he expected. "The truth is that before I was injured, I was the one who built all our weapons. I was the one who upgraded the Turbokat. T-Bone is an excellent pilot, and can repair just about any problem with its engine, but without me, the weapons are slowly dwindling down, and our enemies are starting to surpass us in technology. I just can't do it anymore."
"I don't understand. Why can't you teach T-Bone to build the weapons or upgrade the systems?" Callie struggled for a suggestion that would keep the kats she trusted to protect the city doing just that.
"Miss Briggs," Razor felt for T-Bone beside him, knowing what he was about to say would certainly give away part of his identity if the deputy mayor was smart enough to put two and two together. T-Bone squeezed his shoulder in reassurance. "You see, the problem isn't that I don't think T-Bone could learn. It's that I can't see to show him what he needs to know."
"I don't understand," she looked back and forth between the two vigilantes.
"I'm blind, Miss Briggs. I got sick after that accident with Dr. Viper, and I lost my vision as a result." Razor felt a knot tighten in his gut.
"I see," the deputy mayor said resolutely. "Then if I were to convince Mayor Manx and Commander Feral to allow this program, do you have any suggestions for the new Swat Kats?"
"Lieutenant Feral," T-Bone spoke instantly.
"And anyone other than Commander Feral or Lieutenant Steele," Razor added just as quickly.
"Both kats will need to be in perfect athletic condition and have top marks in flying and firing." T-Bone looked at Razor.
"An aptitude test may be in order. I don't think the city wants some dumb jock protecting them from The Pastmaster or Dark Kat." Razor suggested.
"Alright, then I will arrange a meeting with the City Council and The Enforcers. They may want to hear this from you." Miss Briggs said pointedly.
"You just let us know and we will both be there," T-Bone stated, following it up with, "and not a word about why Razor is no longer fighting crime. If it got out, then people would be thinking every skinny blind kat in Megakat city was Razor."
"You have my word," Miss Briggs assured them both.
In the end, Commander Feral was more than willing to create a new division of tactical assault knowing the Swat Kats were finished and that he would have all their shiny toys in his possession. There were some rules and laws put into place to protect their donations to the city, however. The Turbokat was to be treated as a prototype until the Enforcers could create their own using its technology. Razor suggested they enlisted the help of Professor Hackle, which proved to be most useful. Finally the day came when the hangar was empty except for a couple of lockers and some tally marks on the wall. He walked around, a surprisingly good feeling in his chest. The Swat Kat uniforms were sealed up securely and given to Rita for safe keeping. The klaxon had been disconnected and rewired as a security system for the Salvage Yard.
Jake, who had learned to use a white cane much easier and faster than he was learning Braille, slowly felt his way down the stairs to the garage where Chance was now working on a familiar sounding car. "Is that Miss Briggs' sedan?"
"Yep, it sure is. She isn't here, though." Chance looked up from the engine. "She will be in about an hour to pick it up." Jake found his way to the creaky chair by the desk and sat down. Even being the only one working on the vehicles, Chance seemed to be getting more done now that it was all he had to worry about. "So how's the reading coming along?" Chance turned his head back to his work.
"Eh, you know, there are plenty of books on tape." Jake absently picked at the metal edge of the desk. He could feel it peeling off from age. "I heard about this computer program that lets you speak, and it converts what you say into text. I'm thinking about getting it. Maybe I could submit some of my ideas for patents, or at least for something to do."
Chance smirked. "You mean you don't have anything to do? It's funny, you know, I remember you saying once that you could give Miss Briggs' car a tune up with your eyes closed." He grinned at Jake, "but I bet you can't even change the oil." Jake flushed. That stung, but he wasn't going to concede that easily. "I bet you're wrong." He stood up and felt is way to the large green sedan. Chance quirked an eye brow up as Jake easily slid down under the car. Afraid his friend would end up with a mouth full of old motor oil, he dropped down with him, work light in tow. Jake let out a long breath and raised his hand to search for the drain plug. Just as he started to feel around, Chance's paw grasped his. "You know how you have the whole house mapped out in that big brain of yours?"
"Yeah," Jake replied, letting the nervous feeling he had creep into his voice.
"Well, let's see if we can teach you to do that with a car." Chance guided Jake's paw across the bottom of the engine, thankful it had cooled down enough to touch. He would tell Jake what he was touching, and Jake would attempt to commit to memory the shape and texture of that particular part. Finally, he felt the oil drain plug in his fingers. He kept one paw on it while he used the other to pull the drain pan underneath it, using his arm to gauge whether or not he had it in the right spot. Careful so not to lose the plug in the oil, he unscrewed it and allowed himself a small smile as the thick black oil drained out of the car. With Chance's guidance, he managed to change the oil filter and pour in the new oil. It took longer than it would have for Chance to just do it on his own, but it was worth it to finally feel a sense of accomplishment.
They both turned their heads at the sound of a car pulling in. "It's Callie," Chance said, "right on time, of course."
"I was almost sure I wouldn't make it on time," she said as she fished for her wallet in her purse. Callie looked up as she pulled it out. "Jake. You must be feeling better. Chance told me you were sick the last time I was here."
"Uh, yeah, I…" Chance noticed that Jake was staring past Callie and pushed his shoulder in her direction. Callie noticed too and then saw the cane leaning on the front of her car. "Jake, you're blind?"
"Yeah, I caught that virus from an Enforcer having her car fixed here. The fever took my vision." He tried to keep the nervousness out of his voice.
"I see," Callie arched an eyebrow and stared pointedly at Chance. A knowing look formed in her eyes and she all but grinned out right.
"Your car is ready to go, Miss Briggs," Chance handed her the keys. "Hope we don't have to see this beast in here too soon." He locked eyes with her, seeming to confirm her suspicions with just a look.
"Trust me. As much as I enjoy the company, I'd prefer my own car over sharing a limo with the mayor and his golf clubs." Callie shook her head and climbed into the car. For years she'd wondered what kats were behind the masks. It was just a shame that it was after they had hung up those masks that she finally got an answer.