Sincere thanxes go out to SevenStar and Imagi (hope that's the right name . . .) for insights/encouragement for Maggie's codename. And of course an extra-big super-duper THANX goes out to Rayene Entei for all the moral support, the sneak preview . . . and, of course, for finding the *perfect* name for Maggie's jet. (I owe you, Raye!) Also, thanx again to Kristen Sharpe and all ya'll for all the great reviews.
********************************************************************************
"Attention, all southbound Street Division units. Four-car collision on interstate freeway near the Manx Park exit. All available units, please respond . . . ." The dispatcher's voice droned over the Enforcers-band radio.
"Great." Chance's voice rang out from under a Katswagen. "More work for us. I'll bet all four of 'em show up here by noon tomorrow."
"Always with the negative vibes, man." Maggie responded cheerfully, tucking a wisp of dark hair back underneath her red bandanna.
"Yeah, it could be worse." Jake agreed. He and Maggie were hard at work — again — on the Deputy Mayor's green sedan. Jake sat in the driver's seat, while Maggie tinkered under the hood.
"Help." Chance said. "I'm surrounded by incurable optimists."
"You know us — the milk can is always half-full." Maggie grinned. "Unless, of course, it's on the living room floor."
"In which case, Jake forgot to take out the garbage again." Chance teased. Jake stuck out his tongue.
"You just stuck your tongue out at me, didn't ya?" Chance said.
Jake's eyebrows shot up. "Aw, Chance, you know me better than that!"
"Okay," Maggie interrupted, "I think I've got it." She stepped away from the exposed engine of the 'green monster'. "Try it."
Jake nodded and turned the key in the ignition. The engine sprang to life, and Jake nodded in satisfaction. "Purring like a kitten."
"About time." Maggie wiped her paws on the front of her grease-streaked coveralls. "You do realize that this is the second time in six months she's needed work on this thing?"
"Yeah." Jake cut the engine and hopped out of the car. "I think she sabotages it so she'll have an excuse to see Chance."
"Ooohh." Maggie grinned wickedly. "Chance's got a foxy she-kat chasin' him?"
"Watch it, you two." Chance growled in warning, tail twitching.
"Hey, your mom always said that someday you'd be beating the girls off with a stick!" Jake grinned.
"And the Deputy Mayor, no less." Maggie sniffed. "Mom would be so proud."
"I'm warning you guys." Chance said through gritted teeth. "If I get out from under this Katswagen . . . ."
Before Chance could utter a dire threat, however, the phone rang. Jake scrambled to answer it.
"Jake and Chance's Garage, Jake speaking. How can we . . . oh, hi." He nodded. "Yeah, she's here. Hang on a sec." He covered the mouthpiece with one paw and held the phone out. "It's your uncle."
"Thanks." Maggie crossed the room and took the phone. "Hello?"
"Ketsele." Matthew had that 'we-need-to-talk' tone in his voice. "I have received a complaint from a very upset young kat about the quality of your repair work."
"Ah . . ." Maggie glanced back over her shoulder at the guys. "Really?"
"Yes, really. He's here now — I'll put him on the line."
*Ooohhh boy.* "Okay."
After a moment a small, snuffly voice came over the line. "Maggie?"
She let out a relieved breath. "Hullo, Marcus. What's the matter?"
"Chain came off my bike again." The boy sounded like he'd just finished crying.
"Ouch." Maggie winced in sympathy. "Crash and burn, huh?"
"Yeah. Ma says it's gonna scar." His voice took on a note of indignance. "She can't fix my bike, either."
"Don't worry about it." Maggie assured him. "I'm coming over for Thanksgiving next week — I'll fix it for you then, okay?"
"Yeah." He paused, then said worriedly, "Is it true that fur won't grow back over a scar?"
"Sometimes. Other times the fur just grows back a different color." She lowered her voice to a confidential whisper. "You know, scars are one of the requirements of being a Swat Kat."
"Really?" The kitten's voice was awed.
"Oh, absolutely. I have it on very good authority that you can't be a Swat Kat unless you've got a scar." Across the room, Jake bit back a snicker.
"Even if it's just on your knee?"
"Those," Maggie remarked, trying to keep a straight face, "Are the best kind."
"Coooool." Maggie could imagine the look of devilish glee on Marcus' face. "Okay, Maggie. See ya next Thursday. Bye."
Maggie grinned as she hung up the phone. Jake stuck his head out from beneath the hood of the sedan. "Giving away our trade secrets, are we?"
"Hey, anything the kitten will believe." Maggie remarked.
"Remember when my dad used to tell us that the Enforcers wouldn't hire anyone who didn't eat their broccoli?" Chance rolled out from beneath the Katswagen.
"Or when Jocelyn told us she'd hooked up an electric current to the lock on her diary?" Jake grinned as he slammed the hood. "Man, my sister was a piece of work."
"Sounds like it." Maggie shot a look at the clock. "Ham sandwiches okay with you guys for lunch?"
"Sure." Chance agreed, wiping oil off of his paws. "Why don't we —"
The alarm's wailing klaxon interrupted the conversation, and Maggie shrugged.
"That's the thing about living here." She remarked to no one in particular as her housemates bolted for the hangar. "It's *never* just a normal Tuesday."
******
"What's up?" Maggie asked, scrambling down the last few steps into the hangar. Jake and Chance were already getting into their Swat Kat gear.
"The techno-lizard's back." Chance explained, zipping up his flight suit. "Only this time, it came in the way it left on Saturday." He tightened the knot in his mask. "It's already downtown." He pulled on his helmet, transformed by that simple action into another kat — or, rather, into the same kat with a vastly different attitude.
"We're gonna take it out." T-Bone growled.
"Right." Maggie nodded, glancing at Razor. "You mind if I take the headset?"
"Go ahead."
As the Swat Kats leapt into the TurboKat's cockpit, Maggie took a seat at a computer console near the emergency alarm. She fitted the headset's earpiece in her ear and switched it on. "Check. Check. Hangar to TurboKat. You readin' me, guys?"
"Loud and clear." Razor's voice said in her ear. "Keep it on this frequency."
"You got it." She flashed her trademark thumbs-up at the already-rising jet. "Time to kick some tail."
******
"Coming up on downtown." Razor's voice and the background noise of the TurboKat's engines informed her. "Bringing the sky-spy online . . . now."
The "sky-spy" was a small video camera, nestled under the TurboKat's right wing and linked to Maggie's console. The screen in front of her came to life as Razor switched the camera on. "Signal's loud and clear, guys. I see what you see." Maggie punched a few commands into the keyboard, increasing the picture's magnification. "And I don't think I like it much."
"That makes three of us." T-Bone responded. Although he didn't have the sky-spy's ability to zoom in, he could see well enough.
The techno-lizard was once again strolling along at a leisurely pace, acting as though it were out for a walk — and it was plowing its way through downtown lunch traffic in the process. Every once in a while it would turn its tail and randomly smash a building, or use its "jaws" to snap a light pole. Katizens were fleeing before it in terror.
"Let's rock and roll." T-Bone pulled the jet into a dive. "Razor, how 'bout getting it's attention?"
"You got it." His partner purred. "Let's see how it likes a scrambler missile."
Maggie lashed her tail. "This is so not fair. You guys get to have all the fun."
"Swat Kats." Razor quipped. "It's not just a job, it's an adventure." Then his voice turned more serious. "Launching scrambler missile . . .now."
The scrambler hit the techno-lizard in the back of the head, clinging to the metal with its four arms and releasing a burst of electricity. Bright white bolts of energy snaked across the lizard's metal skin.
"That oughta do it." Razor said with satisfaction . . .
But the robot merely shook its head, knocking the missile off onto the street, and wheeled around to look up at the TurboKat. A pair of panels in it shoulder blades folded open.
"Ah . . . T-Bone?" Razor said. "I think we got its attention."
"Yeah." His partner responded, "But now I'm beginnin' to wonder if we really want it."
From beneath the lizard's metal skin, a pair of what could only be missile launchers appeared.
"I'm almost positive that *that* can't be a good thing." Maggie muttered. Her view changed as the TurboKat pulled back.
"We're talking some major shielding, buddy." Razor noted. "That scrambler didn't even phase it. This isn't gonna be easy."
"If it were easy," T-Bone responded as the techno-lizard opened fire, "They wouldn't need Swat Kats!"
The quartet of missiles that shrieked into view seemed pretty standard, heading in on a basic intercept course. T-Bone pulled into an evasive maneuver, while Razor shot the missiles down one by one . . .
"Hey, this is better than television." Maggie quipped. "We should sell tickets."
"No snide remarks from the peanut gallery!" T-Bone shot back. The techno-lizard released another barrage — again, of seemingly plain-looking missiles that headed straight for the TurboKat.
At the last second, however, one of the missiles broke formation, avoiding Razor's counterattacks and swerving so that it was heading . . . straight for the sky-spy!
Maggie gave in to her reflexes and ducked as the screen went blank. There was a burst of static in her ear . . .
*oh crud oh crud oh crud oh crud oh crud . . . .* Maggie scrambled back into her chair, shouting into the headset. "Razor, T-Bone! Talk to me, guys . . . you still there?"
"Affirmative." Maggie let out a relieved breath. The channel was partially clouded by background static, but T-Bone's voice was unmistakable.
"Now *that* was weird." Razor said. "It didn't take out anything major . . . just the sky-spy and some secondary communications." A small burst of static wiped out a few of his words. ". . . sideswiped us."
"Sideswiped . . . ." Maggie's eyebrows shot up. Reaching up to the earpiece, she switched the headset from the cockpit frequency to the computer's voice-command program. "Sky-spy footage. Display last frame." The screen obliged with the image of the incoming missile. "Rewind. Fifteen seconds." Now the missile was farther away, but screaming in. "Freeze."
The image froze, black-and-gray missile against the blue-and-white sky. "Zoom in." She moved forward until her face was only six inches from the screen. "Enlarge panel 7-C." The fragment of image grew to fill the screen, so large that its pixels were fuzzy — but Maggie saw what she was looking for. A logo — the letters done in sweeping slashes, like claw marks.
The trademark of MegaKat Defense Systems.
Maggie sat back, staring at the image on the screen. Only one kat in all the world would have the nerve to use that logo.
"MacClawed." Maggie hissed, feeling her ears lay back flat against her bandanna. She reached up to switch the headset back to the cockpit frequency . . .
And then the alarm went off.
******
Maggie, startled, leapt out of her chair with such force that it tipped over and skidded across the floor. Then she simply stared for a moment at the flashing light and wailing klaxon above the emergency intercom.
*Ooookay.* Maggie twitched her tail as she crossed the few steps to the wall. *I'm an ex-Enforcer and a soon-to-be Swat Kat. I can handle this.*
She smacked her palm against the intercom button. "Hello?"
*Brilliant way to answer the Swat Kats' phone.* She reflected as soon as the word left her mouth.
"Huh?" The voice on the other end was *definitely* not Calico Briggs. It was a he-kat's voice, deep and harsh; with a downtown accent so thick it showed up even in the one-syllable word.
"Hey Molly!" The voice beckoned. "This ain't the Swat Kats I got. This is a broad!"
Maggie's mind raced, matching the name Molly with the thick accent of the speaker . . . . *Metallikats.*
"See if ya can figure this out, Molly." Mac Mange said — and, Maggie assumed, he handed the comm to his wife.
"Hey!" Molly's voice growled. "Who is this?"
"Would you believe . . . the maid?" Maggie quipped nervously.
"Look, wise kat," Mac snarled impatiently from the background, "Ya got ten seconds to answer me or the deputy mayor loses her pretty blonde ponytail. Can the Swat Kats hear this or not?"
"Yes." Maggie responded quickly. *Actually, probably not. T-Bone would be saying something rude by now if he were listening.*
"Good." Mac raised his voice. "Heya, Swat Chumps! Hope yer havin' fun playing with our new toy, but yer gonna have to cut it short. 'Cause my trigger claw's gettin' pretty itchy up here in this office . . . ."
"Get to the point, Mac." Molly interrupted peevishly.
"Alright, Molly. Geeze, gimme a break." He snapped. "Look, youse two got half an hour to be at City Hall, an' if yer not here to stop us . . ." He paused dramatically, "We waste the deputy mayor!"
*Ah, CRUD!* Maggie clenched her fists. *No way the guys can finish this fight in thirty minutes.*
"It's that old dilemma." Molly purred sarcastically. "Save the city or save the she-kat."
"Bet I know which one Meat Boy's gonna go for, too." Mac's voice held a smirk. "Oh, and don't try ta divide an' conquer, either . . . MacClawed's little toy will take ya out before yer clear of the jet."
"Bye now!" Molly chirped, and cut the line.
"MacClawed. I KNEW it!" Maggie snarled as she retrieved her chair and once again opened the channel to the TurboKat.
"Razor, T-Bone! You still with me, guys?"
"Roger that." T-Bone's voice echoed over the static. "What's up?"
"Trouble." She briefly outlined her conversation with the Metallikats.
"*Crud*." T-Bone snarled. Maggie was fairly sure she could hear the sound of his balled fist making contact with the control panel.
"There's no way we can let this thing run loose." Razor said. "It'll destroy this whole neighborhood."
"But there's no way we can let that pair of tin creeps hurt Callie, either." His partner pointed out. "Looks like we're stuck between a real rock and a hard place."
"We're not out of options yet, guys." Maggie interjected. "Listen, Cha — T-Bone," She corrected quickly, "How long do you think it's gonna be before you take this thing out?"
"Depends on how long his shields can hold out." He replied. "You got something in mind?"
"Maybe." She glanced around the hangar. "Razor, I need a way into City Hall."
She could almost hear the grin in his voice. "You got it." After a few moments the display in front of her came to life with a green-on-black line schematic. A brighter-green line ran through the center of the building.
"Main elevator shaft." Razor explained. "Runs from the top floor all the way down into the below ground sub-levels — including the parking lot. Opens directly down the hall from the mayor's office."
"Awesome." Maggie purred.
"You're planning on going in there?" Razor asked.
"Hey, if the short circuit gang is dealing with *me*, then they're not after the deputy mayor — right, T-Bone?"
"Right." T-Bone sounded more skeptical than sure. "Are you sure about this?"
"Relax." Maggie assured him. "I know almost exactly what I'm doing. Just wrap up the fun and games with the techno-lizard and meet me at City Hall ASAP."
"Roger that." T-Bone returned grudgingly. "Watch your tail."
"Yep. Watch yours. Over and out."
Maggie cut the channel and stood up. "Well, now I've got twenty-five minutes." *And no real plan.* She glanced down at her grease-streaked mechanic's coveralls. *I can't go fighting crime in these, that's for sure.*
******
"Kats, this mask itches." Maggie muttered as she put on her helmet. "Remind me to invest in some cotton bandannas."
The flight suit she was wearing was exactly like those worn by the other two Swat Kats — long-sleeved and slightly loose like Razor's, but fitting closer in the torso. As a matter of fact, it was one of Razor's extras — and since Maggie was almost two inches taller than Razor, it was slightly too short in the sleeves. Maggie shrugged and rolled the sleeves up above her elbows. Once the Talon was constructed, she thought offhandedly, she'd need a flight suit in her own size. A flight suit that didn't fit properly wouldn't be able to do its real job, which was forcing blood through the circulatory system at high-G's.
"But for now," She informed the empty hangar, "This will be good enough."
Maggie pulled on a pair of black flight boots — the guys preferred to go barefoot, but she couldn't stand it — and crossed the room to Razor's workbench. Spread out on the well-lighted surface were components of various shapes, sizes, and colors, weapons in various stages of repair . . . and one of the extra glovatrixes. She picked it up and examined it dubiously.
"Don't suppose this comes in a southpaw version." Maggie said. "Left-pawed kats are an oppressed minority." With a persecuted sigh, Maggie slid the bulky glove over her right paw.
"Now, see, I *could* have finished learning how to use one of these, but nooo . . ." She rolled her eyes. "I decided to watch a Scaredy-Kat marathon instead. That's what I get for letting Chance be my influence." Switching on the glove's power pack, Maggie eyed the array of pressure-sensitive pads in the glovatrix's palm, then groaned. "I'll be lucky if I don't blow my arm off."
*Okay, Blackclaw, cut the chitchat.* Her Enforcers training demanded. *You need a way to City Hall, and you need a way there NOW.*
Maggie's eyes roamed the hangar . . . and then lit up. A reckless grin played at the corners of her mouth. "Oh, yeah . . . ."
******
Razor studied the screens before him, then the opponent far below him. "Okay, I've got an idea. Take her down."
"Roger that." T-Bone responded as the jet lost altitude. He paused. "You think Maggie's okay?"
Before Razor could respond, the light from a tracking signal caught his attention. He grinned. "Oh, yeah." He replied. "I think Maggie's doing just fine."
******
"YEEEEEESSSS!" Maggie shouted jubilantly. "I LOVE this job!" Weaving the cyclotron in and out of traffic at speeds that Sirocco couldn't even think of obtaining, Maggie sped towards City Hall.
******
Mac Mange grinned smugly at Callie Briggs, a stopwatch in one paw and a nasty-looking laser weapon in the other. "Ten minutes, doll." He held the watch up mockingly. "Tick, tick, tick."
"Don't worry." Callie shot back defiantly. "The Swat Kats will find a way to beat you *and* that robot monster."
"Well, they better hurry." Molly said smugly from her position by the door. "Now they got nine and a half minutes."
"They'll be here." Callie snapped. Her gaze strayed to the city outside the window. *I hope.*
The spiderlike chrome object on the desk beside Mac gave off a low, menacing buzz. He glanced at it. "Hey, Molly? We got someone in the parkin' garage."
Molly, confused, glanced down at the monitor in her paws. "The Swat Kats're still busy with the techno-lizard." She shrugged and looked up. "Must just be some poor kat who's in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Mac grinned slyly. "Yeah." He reached over and manipulated a few controls on the underneath of the chrome "spider." "Yeah, I know just what ya mean."
******
Maggie cut the engine and stepped off the cyclotron, half-grinning as the computer's voice informed her that the security systems had engaged.
"Super-charged turbo jet engine, anti-lock brakes, available security system — zero to sixty in point nine seconds. Yes, folks, *this* is the vehicle of the future." She glanced around the mostly-empty parking garage — apparently, most of the employees had fled the building when the Metallikats took over. *Just as well. No civilian factor.*
"Now, then . . ." The elevator wasn't hard to spot, especially since there were signs reading "ELEVATOR —" all over the place. Maggie twitched her tail and followed the signs, her footsteps echoing in the concrete cavern.
*I KNOW it isn't going to be this easy.* She reflected as she approached the elevator. *It CAN'T be this easy. Because, if it WERE this easy . . . .* She stopped as a faint buzzing sound reached her ears from behind, "They wouldn't need Swat Kats."
Maggie whirled around, expecting the buzzing to be accompanied by something fast and dangerous.
She wasn't disappointed.
The robot drones were chrome-colored and vaguely spider shaped, bristling with what looked like very nasty laser weapons. "Oh, boy."
Maggie ducked and rolled as the first of the five drones opened fire. Laser fire left a line of scorch marks on the wall behind her as she dropped into a crouch.
*Oh, kats, I hope I remember how to use this thing . . . .* Maggie glanced down at the glovatrix for a moment — and another laser bolt streaked by only a few millimeters from her right ear.
"Okay, far too close for my liking!" She growled, raising the glovatrix. "Adios, shiny — I don't like guys who mess with my hair!" *Third pad from the left — tap it twice . . . *
The drone disappeared in a shower of sparks.
"YEAH!" Another bolt from one of the other drones cut the celebration short, and Maggie scrambled behind a car for protection. She whistled in appreciation. "Sixty-nine Chevrolet Impala. I don't know who ya are," She muttered to the car's absent owner, "But I envy you."
Another flurry of laser bolts — including a volley that rocked the Impala. Maggie bared her fangs as she leapt to her feet.
"Okay, I *was* being patient," She opened fire, "But *nobody* dents a car like this and gets away with it!"
Maggie allowed herself a glow of satisfaction as three other drones went down. *All right! I'm shooting them down, AND I'm coming up with witty one-liners. I might just be cut out for this business after all.*
Unfortunately, the weapon she'd been using only came with a limited number of charges — as she realized when she once again tapped the palmpad and nothing happened.
"Ooo. That can't be good." She softly ran her fingers along the glovatrix's palm, fingering pads as she tried to remember what they did. The last drone was getting closer.
"Ah, forget it!" She randomly dug her finger into a pad, aiming at the fifth drone. "Hit hard and hope!"
A mini-octopus missile caught the drone in mid-flight, seizing it and sending it crashing to the floor. Maggie stepped over it on her way to the elevator. Turning as she entered the elevator, she surveyed the damaged drones and the battle-scarred Impala.
"Well," She remarked to no one in particular as the elevator doors slid shut, "That was fun."
******
"I swear," Maggie growled, leaning against the side of the elevator, "If I have to listen to ONE MORE song by Elton John, I am *shooting* the Muzak player." She glowered at the offending speaker, which cheerfully continued to play soft, annoying elevator music. "This has been the longest elevator ride of my life." *Especially since the circuit's been fried or overloaded or something, and the stupid elevator's been stopping at every floor.*
She shot a glance at the floor indicator above the door. Eleventh floor and rising . . . and Callie's office, if she'd remembered correctly, was on the twelfth floor . . .
"Which means this is where I get off." She announced as the elevator stopped once again. As if on cue, the speaker began playing the opening strains of "Candle in the Wind." Maggie glanced at the speaker, then at the glovatrix.
"I shouldn't. I really shouldn't."
But she did anyway.
******
"One minute." Mac held the stopwatch up once again as he got to his feet. "Got any last words?"
"None you'd want to hear." Callie stuck her chin out defiantly.
"Aw, how heroic." Molly leveled her weapon at Callie. "Brave ta the bitter end . . ."
"Y'know, you said I had thirty minutes. And that was . . . twenty-nine minutes, thirty seconds ago."
"Huh?" Molly whirled around to face the door — just as Maggie kicked it open.
"I've still got twenty-nine seconds." Maggie growled. She held the glovatrix up. "Let's think of a way to spend it, shall we?"
"Hey, what is this?" Mac demanded. Crossing the room, he roughly grabbed Callie's elbow.
"This," Maggie grinned, "Is you. And this is you, on cement." She clenched her fist, crossing the third and second fingers as she did so. A huge glob of Razor's special-blend cement knocked the weapon out of Mac's robotic paw. "Any questions?"
"Yeah," Molly hissed as she lunged forward, "Where do ya want us ta send yer remains?"
"Oh, any old place." Maggie chirped — as she dropped to her knees and rolled left. Molly hit the floor — and came up snarling, metallic talons unsheathed.
"Why you . . ."
"Ooops, watch what you say!" Maggie taunted, stepping away from the dangerous swinging claws. "Never know when you'll regret it later."
"Mac!" Molly commanded, still snarling. "A little help, here!"
"Sure thing, Molly." Mac shoved the deputy mayor backwards into a chair and advanced to stand next to his wife.
"Oh, come *on*." Maggie said, still backing up. "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to put all your eggs in one basket?" She thumbed one of the pads on the glovatrix's side. "Or was that one net?"
The weighted net that she launched was another one of Razor's special blends — this one, a deunimite-titanium alloy strong enough to withstand even Molly's razor-keen claws. The Metallikats, hopelessly entangled, fell backwards in a heap.
Maggie glanced at Callie Briggs, who was getting to her feet. "You alright, Miss Briggs?"
"Yes, I . . .I'm fine. Do I . . ." Callie wrinkled her brow. "I don't think I quite understand."
"It's pretty simple, Miss Briggs. I'm one of the Swat Kats. And I'm gonna keep an eye on these two," She jerked her thumb at the Metallikats, "While you find a working phone and call the Enforcers. If you don't mind."
Callie grinned. "Sounds like a plan." She agreed, crossing to the door. Then she paused. "Thank you."
Maggie grinned. "Anytime."
She watched Callie exit the office, then turned to her captives. *Of course, I've used up all of the weapons that I know how to fire. But THEY don't need to know that.*
Maggie smirked and did her best to hold the Glovatrix in a threatening position. "Okay, shinies. Let's talk about MacClawed."
******
TBC
******
Whew! Longest chapter yet — and no, I'm *still* not done (Got a few loose ends I wanna tie up — and you guys *still* don't know what Maggie's codename is! It's all part of my fiendish plot to keep you in perpetual suspense . . . .) However I'm going to be away from the desk for at least two weeks, so the next chapter is going to take at least a month. (Sorries! But I actually *do* have a life apart from fanfic.) So keep on watching, guys. We're a frog's hair away from finishing this thing!