Logic, Oh the Irony
A.N: This will be one of the strangest Top Cat one shots you'll ever read, I guarantee.
Originally, I wanted to write a story about Brain, but then things happened and Dibble insisted he wanted in. I hope you like it.
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oOoOoOoOoOo
"I can't believe I'm doin' this again," growled Officer Dibble to himself as he turned right into Hoagie's alley. The cat he was looking for – a young, yellow-pelted one – was sprawled lazily across an old wooden crate, dozing off and soaking in the warm May sun.
Truth be told, it really was a lovely day – the kind of weather that could drug you all day, and you wouldn't call it a waste of time, but the young policeman was not in an appreciative mood at all.
Truth be told, he had been dubbed too impatient for his own good since his first week at the NY police academy – by his lecturers, sergeants, corporals, seniors, colleagues, Jimmy the janitor, even the goddamn bus driver –
Dibble grit his teeth. Why did he always have to remember the academy days whenever he walked into this God-forsaken alley?
He knew why – this alley was not covered in any book written by mere man.
He was still a young new patrolman, and like many young men just beginning their lives, Dibble thought that ambition could be enough to prove the prehistoric geezers at his academy wrong. Well, it did not take him long to learn that that wasn't necessarily true; desperation was stronger than ambition.
Did any of his colleagues ever have to resort to something like this..?
The patrolman stopped when he was standing right over Top Cat. The yellow feline was snoozing; his breathing was easy and slow, and his limbs were thrown haphazardly across the crate, as if trying to make every cell bask in the Creator's natural warmth.
"Top Cat," whispered Dibble. "Hey, T.C. I gotta talk to ya for a minute."
Top Cat groaned sleepily. "I said I'll go to work next year, Mom.."
"Top Cat."
"Hnn' said I'm gettin' up, Mom," whined the feline, turning his face away in annoyance. "Leamme alone, will ya.."
"You askin' for this," Dibble sighed. He put his finger into his mouth, and then stuck it into the cat's ear.
The screech that ensued brought Choo-Choo running from the firehouse a whole three blocks away. A couple of hikers passing by the alley stopped momentarily, alarmed at the sound. Everyone else went on, unimpressed.
It's the Dibble and Top Cat again, they said simply, as if that was all the explanation they needed.
Choo-Choo slid to a halt at his leader's crate, tail bristling. He watched with his wide red-dish orbs as Top Cat clawed at his ear, face a vicious mask of disgust.
"T.C.! What's 'a matter?!" the feline cried in worry as his leader shook his head aggressively. "A bug again?"
"I woke 'im up," said Dibble with a shrug.
"..Oh."
"Of all the eager beavers who've blessed us with their presence in this alley," gritted Top Cat, now compulsively rubbing his ear. "You are by far the hard-shell of the whole cooky bunch!"
"Why thanks, T.C. That means a lot comin' from ya," grinned Dibble with satisfaction. The cat gave him a sour look and began to turn about to find his hat, dismissing the relieved Choo-Choo.
"Well, I wouldn' wanna be the one to fritter away the time of our beloved cop in dillydally chit-chat. Not on a day oh-so-beautiful. What did you so eloquently wake me up for, Eager B – I mean Officer Dibble?" drawled the cat.
"I need your help," began Dibble. Top Cat regarded him with a half-lidded expression.
"Again, huh? I'm startin' to really question your coplike capabilities, Officer-"
"See here, wise guy!" spat Dibble impatiently. "I wouldn' be askin' if I knew the crook. You're the one who said I could come to ya if I needed a whistler."
"Well, me, Benny and Chooch do get by quite well," said Top Cat proudly. "Oh, an' Brain o' course!"
"Yeah, I'll bet. "
"Duh, did someone call me?" came a muffled voice from nearby. Dibble turned around in surprise. He had thought that Top Cat was alone in the alley. Noises came from the ash can by the telephone pole until the lid came off, and a young orange cat – barely in his early teenage years – poked his head out sleepily.
"Nah, Brain. Me and Officer Dibble were jus' talkin'. Keepin' the neighborhood secure an' all that there. Go back to sleep."
"Nah, I think I'm awake, anyway," said Brain as he climbed out. "My sinuses are gettin' clogged, and now I'm hungry and I can' breathe right."
"We gotta do somethin' about those sinuses o' yours.." mused Top Cat, more to himself than anyone. "But somethin' that doesn' involve..hmm, let's see.."
"Pay attention, T.C. Worry 'bout Brain's sinuses later," said Dibble. "Look, there's this guy whom Investigator Murphy's been after for months now. He doesn' stay in one place – first it was LA, then San Fransico, Las Vegas and now New York!"
"What does he do?" asked Top Cat, watching his newest dependent flip to the crosswords page on an old newspaper and scrounge for a pen. Upon finding none, he sat on his haunches and began to carve the answers into the paper with his claw.
"He steals money. Lots of it and nobody has any idea how!"
"Well, that's not very helpful, is it? I'm quite impressed, though."
"Find your role model in someone else, T.C.," warned Dibble. "That guy's lookin' at ten to fifteen."
"There's no need to tell me, Officer Dibble. I'm just an innocent law abiding citizen who's merely short on monetary resources and has to make do with this modest alle - no, Brain, a 13-letter antonym for 'independence' is 'subordination'."
"Oh, really? I've never seen ya even set foot in the employment agency ever since I was assigned here."
"Me an' ma parents are strictly against child labor, ya see."
"Is that so? I think you're old enough now to at least take a part-time somewhere, doncha say? Think about it."
"Thanks a lot for the life advice, Dibble, I'll be sure to remember it.." said the feline in a bored voice, a lazy smile on his face.
"I dunno why I bother with ya," sighed Dibble, shrugging to the heavens. "Anyway, we think the crook's been in New York for a little over a month now. There've been three safe robberies and another three embezzlements durin' the first week, then nothin' at all for three weeks. It's suspicious, ain' it? We're pretty sure the guy hasn' skipped town. I wonder why he's stopped.."
"How does he do the thing? Like, steal, how?"
"Well that's what's drivin' us crazy! He jus' gets the combinations right and takes all the loot!"
"On the first try?"
"Seems like it. That's what the expert back at headquarters said when he examined those safes. It's like he knew the combinations all along, but that's impossible."
Top Cat looked thoughtful. He looked over the alley fence out onto the busy street. People and children bustled about, enjoying the warm afternoon and slurping ice cream everywhere. A growing crowd gathered around the ice-cream cart and the moving circus that was in town, and a burly clown in outrageous retina-burning colors enticed youngsters and their helpless guardians into the tent.
"Have ya been to that circus, Dibble?"
"Huh? No, I'm not really a fan o' circuses. Clowns spook me."
"Yeah, same. How d'ya like that, we finally agree on somethin'. What are they doin' on this street, anyhow.."
"I want ya ta sniff around, T.C., and if ya dig up anythin', holler-"
"Do ya sniff that, Brain?" asked Top Cat suddenly.
"Wha? I don' smell anyt – oh wait, yeah!" said the orange cat, and proceeded to inhale deeply.
"No, Brain!" said Top Cat sharply, hopping off of his crate and clamping a paw over the younger cat's muzzle.
"What's goin' on?" asked Dibble, utterly confused. "I don' smell anythin'."
"Of course ya don', and neither does any human walkin' away with an ice cream from that venda!" hissed Top Cat, swerving his head back towards the busy ice-cream cart. "He's with 'em-!"
Brain shoved Top Cat's paw off of his muzzle, trying to catch his breath. He inhaled sharply, and his breaths started to come in faster through both nose and mouth.
"Brain!"
"I can' help it, T.C! I can' breathe!" said the orange cat. His speech began to lose its nasal quality as his sinuses began to clear out. He inhaled again, and Dibble was beginning to feel a little unsettled.
"They're drenchin' the ice-cream with it! My head's startin' ta spin – Brain, get a hold of youself!" said Top Cat angrily.
"What? What is it, drugs?" cried Dibble, beginning to gain a small bit of light on the odd conversation.
"They're dowsin' their ice cream with catnip, and sendin' it out with every kid to every corner o' the neighborhood. They tryin' to lure Brain out!"
"I don' get it."
"You wouldna understand, Officer, but those guys are tryna – Brain ya numbskull no! Stop right there!" shouted the yellow feline, and shot out of the alley like a bullet.
Brain was at the ice-cream cart. Fishing for the only quarter in his one-size-too-large purple t-shirt, he raised it over his head and asked for a "double-fudge vanilla ice cream scoop, please."
Dibble had never seen an ice-cream man look so hungrily at a customer before.
Top Cat bodily slammed into Brain, and dragged him back towards the alley, but it was too late. The ice-cream man whistled. One of the clowns at the tent's entrance whipped around at the sound, saw the two cats making a break across the street, and disappeared promptly into the tent.
"Nice goin', Brain! Now we gotta split town!" cried Top Cat as he dragged his smallest dependent into the alley.
"Not necessarily. We can hide in New York and we'd still have an eighty-five percent chance of not bein' found," countered Brain evenly.
"Oh boy, not again."
"Top Cat, what the heck is even goin' on-"
Top Cat looked around at the officer with widened eyes, as if blessed with a last beam of hope.
"Dibble! How much does that badge mean to ya?"
"Say what?"
A small furry paw was pushed into his own large hand.
"Take Brain and blow!"
"Wait what?"
"Don' let 'im outta your sight, and don' let those creeps near him, ya hear!" shouted Top Cat, looking over the fence urgently. "I'll hold 'em up, you two blow!"
"Top Cat, what have ya done to those people?!"
"I didn' do nothin' wrong, now move! Move!" said Top Cat with an urgency in his voice that spurred Dibble to move. Holding Brain's paw securely, he made for the far exit of the alley as he saw the yellow feline clear the fence and yoo-hoo! at five men making their way across the road.
"Oi! There he is!" one man shouted.
"Don't point 'im to me ya moron! GRAB HIM!" roared another. Top Cat laughed jeeringly and ran off. The odd, colorful assortment of circus people followed suit, attracting the stares of many confused New Yorkers.
"Look, Ma! That lion tamer is chasing after a cat! What a loser!" one kid laughed loudly, pointing with his catnip-drenched ice-cream.
oOoOoOoOoOo
Dibble doubled over, gasping for breath. He'd run non-stop for five blocks. Too bad his superiors weren't around to witness his good shape, something they'd been skeptical about ever since he was a trainee.
"Brain!" he gasped loudly, looking over at the cat standing calmly by his side. For someone with a sinus problem, Brain seemed quite unfazed after running across entire neighborhoods. "I'll leave ya with Manohan on the next block. Stick to 'im while I go break this thing up!"
"Alright," said Brain. "I advise ya to get goin' right away – there's a fifty-percent chance that another policeman will intercept 'em within the next five minutes, and if that happens, Mr. Rosenbush'll likely to open fire on the street by seventy-percent."
Dibble just stared, sweat running down his brow. "Say that again?!"
"There's a seventy-percent chance that the lion tamer-"
"No, no, I meant how? How do ya know that?"
"I've analyzed his habits and behavioral tendencies long enough to accurately predict his likely reactions to Top Cat's provocations. It is ninety-percent likely the circus been movin' from neighborhood to neighborhood for the past three weeks to find me. That explains the catnip trails everywhere in an attempt to 'flush' me outta my hideout if ya will."
"Brain, are ya sure ya fine? Ya sound..off."
"I feel much clearer than I've felt those past weeks, Officer," said Brain with a neutral smile, which contrasted with his eternally bored stare. "Too bad it only happens when I inhale enough nip."
"I've never even heard o' such a thing."
"Call it a brain anomaly," explained Brain. "I've been like this since I was born - oh, look, that must be the Officer Manohan you were lookin' for."
A policeman on a motorcycle screeched to a halt at Dibble's side not a moment later. "Dibble! What's goin' on in the 28th?!"
"I'm about to find out! A bunch o' clowns are after this citizen, apparently, and they may be armed. I'm leavin' 'im with ya while I get this."
"This'll be dangerous! I'll go with you! You, young man, can wait at the stationhouse," said Manohan to the orange cat sternly, and leaned over quickly onto his motorcycle's rear to pull another helmet for Dibble. "Put it on!"
"Brain," said Dibble urgently, and the cat turned his bored gaze onto the policeman. Was it Dibble, or was Brain less expressive than usual..? "I want a quick answer from ya; do. You. Know. What. Is. Going. On?"
"Certainly. The circus wants to take me back, and Top Cat doesn' want me goin' back with 'em," said Brain simply.
Dibble didn't understand any more than before he had asked the question.
"..You don' wanna go with them, then?"
"No."
"Kid! The stationhouse, now!" repeated Manohan and pointed towards the building not a block away, but something about leaving Brain alone did not sit well with Dibble, and he couldn't get Top Cat's worried face out of his head. Despite knowing the orange cat for only under a month, even he could tell there was something very odd with Brain.
The sound of a gunshot rang out. Manohan swore and switched gears. "Let's go, Dibble!"
Dibble's heart was hammering fast in his chest. Those circus people were no entertainers. They were ciriminals. If Brain knew it, then Top Cat sure as heck did. An unpleasant suspicion began to worm its way into his gut.
"You go! I'll catch up!" shouted Dibble, and grabbed Brain's hand instead. "I'll get 'im to the stationhouse!" he didn't wait for an answer and Manohan didn't need to give one. The policeman was off like a rocket at the sound of another gunshot.
Dibble ran as fast as his complaining lungs allowed him. "..There's a forty one-percent chance they are shooting at Top Cat," said Brain as he was pulled along. He sounded like he was merely discussing the weather.
The policeman stumbled up the steps of the stationhouse, threw the door open and ran down the hallway as other policemen brushed past him in the opposite direction. Shouts and barked orders filled the corridors, and only grew louder and more hectic as a third gunshot echoed in the air. Dibble could almost feel his heart shriveling up with every awful sound. Those bullets were in his precinct. His precinct. Amongst his citizens!
He threw himself upon the office door of his superior's officer. "Inspector Murphy! Open up!" the cop shouted over the unbearable din. He banged on the door ruthlessly. Two more gunshots rang out, and this time, they were closer. He could hear citizens screaming outside. "Goddamit!"
He wrenched the doorknob in panic, fully expecting it to not give, but amazingly, the inspector's door was unlocked, and the room empty. He had left in a hurry.
Dibble dashed for his superior's desk, shoving aside any and all doubts about the ethic of what he was doing, and made to pull open the top drawer of the mahogany desk. It was locked. He swore again.
"Cursin' never solved anythin', Officer Dibble," said Brain blandly, idly fingering some documents on the desk's surface. "Lemme try."
The small lock on the first drawer was an old nine-number design. Perking his ears forward to their full extent, the orange cat slowly turned the dials. Minutes passed, and if Dibble was as fast-witted or as savvy as the little delinquent who lived on his beat he was growing more and more worried for, he wouldn't have had the miniature heart attack he almost did when the drawer slid open.
For a moment, Dibble was speechless. "How – how did ya –?"
"Fifty-percent of all humans are likely to choose their favorite number as the start of any combination," began Brain. "And that number is most commonly 2. If a combination requires a 3-number pass, then the likelihood of the last number being a repeated –"
Dibble was not listening over the growing commotion outside and the thundering of his own heart in his ears. He began to turn the drawers upside down. He rummaged for a specific brown folder, and found it. Flipping the documents quickly, he found the particular criminal sketch portrait he was looking for. It was of a man, balding and middle-aged, with close-set eyes and a thin, unnoticeable moustache.
"Brain, look at this man," he shoved the sketch under the cat's nose. "Do you know him?" he asked, in dread. He already knew the answer now.
"Certainly. That looks eighty-five percent like Mr. Rosenbush, the lion tamer at the circus," Brain said, eyes drooping. "Your sketch artists are quite good."
Holy crap. Holy crap. Where on earth does Dibble start explaining all of this to his superior?
Glass exploded behind him, and without thought, the cop threw himself and his charge to the floor as thousands of shards rained down on them.
"Ohoho, found you," said a male voice.
Dibble whipped around, hand already grabbing for his gun, and saw a thin, wiry man perched on the now-glassless window pane. His grace was evident, despite having a pinned left leg.
"Pinfoot Jules," mused Brain.
"Oui is me, ma petite fute chat," crooned Jules. "You cause quite trouble in streets today, wit your ami leading our men all over city. But I find you first and I make Monsiour proud."
Dibble aimed his gun at the man. "That's enough French for today, chum. Put you hands behind ya head and step down!"
The man raised his hands slowly to the back of his head, and Dibble saw his right one tighten in a fist. "Drop whatever you're holdin'-!"
A needle flew by his temple and landed square in Brain's. The cat's eyes widened for a moment, before he crumpled to a heap on the glass-ridden floorboards.
"Step down!" hollered Dibble, enraged. The man complied with an infuriating smile on his thin lips. "What's in that needle?!"
Jules kept his kohl-lined eyes on the policeman's face, only shooting the briefest of glances to the hand holding the gun once. "Le chat tres imaginativ, Officerr. I know 'im since he was kit. He's probably tellin' you lies 'bout cirque and how he is treated but you mustno believe-"
"What's in the goddamn needle?" roared Dibble. "You have five seconds to talk!"
"Sacre bleu!" cried the acrobat, looking affronted. "You canno shoot unarmed cirque acrobat! I demand rights! Lawyer!"
"One."
"What is dis?! I have you know I file for plainte at le embassade fraincais!"
"Two."
"You American really are scandaleux!"
"Three."
"I only follow ordres of Monsieur Rozenbush!"
"Four." Dibble steadied his hand.
"I mus' bring le petit back to Monsieur! He decide what to do! Chat tells lies but is one of us, and Monsieur Rozenbosh never abandon his camarades!"
Dibble's expression remained stony. His eyes flitted to Brain's form on the ground, and his heart jumped at the utter stillness of the cat. "He's asleep?"
"Oui. He sleep like a log."
"I bet ya can do the same," The man didn't have time to wonder - Dibble rammed him with the butt of the pistol. He slammed on the cuffs and went back for his unconscious charge, breathing a huge sigh of relief to find that indeed, he had a pulse. He grabbed the brown folder and tucked it under his arm, and wrenched the door open. The noise pitch rose tenfold.
Dibble's foot was not even out the office when he saw the horse gallop past him.
"What in the-?!"
He looked down the hall. The front of Precinct Stationhouse 13 was a circus - the police against the most unsual assortment of panicked circus animals, clowns, acrobats and who knew what else.
"What in God's name is even going on here?!" a cop nicknamed Bon the Hawkeye hollered in frustration as Dibble sped by. Dibble had a hunch he knew who brought the circus to the police. He couldn't even begin to imagine how, but who else other than Top Cat would do something so ludicrous?
"Johnny, watch it! Dibble! Dibble, look out!" cried Bon. Two pistols were out of the superior cop's belt and in his hand in the blink of an eye. Two shots rang out and for one moment, Dibble stood frozen as the horses that nearly trampled him and Brain collapsed onto the ground, bleeding profusely and their owners struggled to get away, only to be jumped by two police apprentices whose names Dibble didn't know.
Some kid looking out his apartment balcony shouted something angrily about police brutality and animal rights. "Get inside, kid!" shouted Dibble as he sped past, running as fast as he could towards the one man he needed - his direct superior.
"Inspector! Inpector Murphy-!"
Amidst the chaos, the man in the typical inspector's long brown coat cried out in shock as a bullet grazed his right arm; a lion's whip cracked through the air and wrapped around his hand, and twisted. The weapon fell from Inspector Murphy's hand with a pained gasp.
"Rosenbush! Drop your weapon - you are under arrest! DROP IT!" shouted Dibble, aiming his own gun at the master of disguise he and his superior have been chasing for many months. The black, close-set eyes of the middle-aged man – now a circus owner in a stark red outfit and a moustache so large it was theatrical – darkened in hatred. He was trapped and he knew it; it was over.
Dibble had expected a dramatic rant – or a disappointed, well-placed blame like they made the villains do on television. Heck, he wanted to hear one – this was his biggest job ever since he joined the force. What he didn't expect was the hateful Rosenbush aim his own pistol at him – or rather, at the listless cat he was carrying.
"Die, you worthless little traitor."
Dibble did not even see Top Cat coming, nor he knew where he came from, but with far more speed than the cop knew him capable of, the yellow cat threw his limbs around the criminal's legs. Panicked citizens and animals alike screamed as the wayward bullet found its permanent destination in a police car's gas tank and exploded with a drum-shattering bang. Brain jerked awake in Dibble's arms with a startled yowl.
People threw themselves to the ground for cover from the debris, but Dibble didn't even have time to respond to his name shouted in horror by his superior. For all of a sudden, he found himself and Brain skidding down the road on a blackened, bent car door. Dibble yelled in terror as cars screeched and swerved dangerously around them. One car could not fully swerve, and Dibble was sure he was going to die.
Doing the only thing he could, he wrapped his arms around the petrified cat, shielding him from the impact he was sure was going to end him.
oOoOoOoOoOo
It seemed like quite some time had passed when Dibble opened his eyes when in reality, only seconds had gone.
For a long moment, he lay on his side, completely still and covered in dirt, confused as to where he was and why he was lying on asphalt surrounded by cars and shouting people. A throbbing pain in his side made itself known, but he found he could barely concentrate on it. He blinked once, twice, thrice before everything came back. Heart jumping to his throat, he looked urgently into his arms, fearing the worst. There was Brain, clinging to his waist as tightly as he could, eyes shut so firmly they were but two thin lines.
"Brain..hey it's ok, kid. You're safe." Thank goodness.
Dibble lay his head back on the ground and closed his eyes, not having any more energy to spend on the people fussing around him, trying to get him to answer if he had a concussion.
One voice, though, stood out starkly. "Brain!"
Dibble's eyes snapped open again, and he saw Top Cat bounding down the road.
"T.C.." he said, registering only distantly how spent – and how relieved – his own voice sounded. "You're alright. Y' scared the heck outta me." He would have hugged that messed up feline if Top Cat hadn't rudely shoved him aside without a glance and grabbed for Brain instead. Any affection towards the cat turned to annoyance and Dibble let out a weak "Ungrateful pesk."
"Brain, look at me. Are you alright?!" asked the cat frantically, shaking the cat and by extension shaking the cop as well.
The young cat, ever so slowly, cracked one eye open, without moving his face from Dibble's chest. Upon seeing his new leader look down on him with worried orbs, he hesitantly, ever-so-slowly released his hold.
"..I..I guess so," said Brain, looking very shaken. "I fell asleep. What'uh happened?"
"Those freaks were comin' for ya. I had to make with a distraction."
"You did this," said Dibble. He knew it; he freaking knew it. Problem was, right now he couldn't move anything below his eyebrows. "People nearly died, Top Cat, ya selfish prick."
Over the cat's shoulder, beyond the many hands trying to get him to sit up, Dibble spotted his superior running towards them, hand to his arm wound where the bullet had grazed.
However, the wide grin on his lips far outshone the fading grimace of pain in his eyes.
"Guess who'll be a Sergeant now!" he laughed as he came closer. God, Inspector Murphy acted like such a child, sometimes.
"..Thanks, Officer Dibble."
Surprised, the policeman brought his eyes back to the yellow cat. If there was something he ever expected from Top Cat, it sure wouldn't be appreciation for what he did. He wanted to reply that it was nothing – that it was his job to protect the citizens of his city, and that he thought he did pretty darn well by his badge, thank you very much. But instead, what came out was: "You endangered an entire city for one cat. I don' even know how ya thought it. I have never in my life met anyone so selfish."
"Well, not everyone's cut out to be a cop. Call it a moment o' weakness," said Top Cat, looking quite serious. And then, as if sensing he was displaying too much, added: "And put it in you head it'll never happen again!"
"You endangered an entire city for one cat.." repeated Dibble faintly.
"Dib, whatsa matta with ya?" demanded Top Cat. He put a paw on either sides of the policeman's head and looked intently into his eyes. "Are ya sure ya don' have a concussion? Hmm, maybe ya should get ya head checked just in case. Hey-ey, can ya quit with the pokin', ma'am! Is anyone of ya spectators a doctor? A good doctor?"
Dibble was too tired to talk anymore, and allowed the people to assist him. He didn't tell Top Cat to turn around and see the adoration and affection on his youngest friend's face. Sometimes it was best not to tell Top Cat certain things.