Rank and File
By Chella "Klawz" Reaves (e-mail)

Rating & Warning: PG-13 for violence. (Violence is mostly implied.)

Disclaimer that still applies: "SWAT Kats: The Radical Squadron", its characters and concepts are copyright to Hanna-Barbera Cartoons Inc. and I have used them without permission. All concepts and characters not found in the show were created by me and I appreciate you asking permission or not using them! (I don't bite unless provoked. :) )

~Klawz

Unlike most katizens, Jake Clawson and Chance Furlong had a way to easily cut through Red Tape. They were the SWAT Kats, a pair of highly trained vigilantes who took the skies in their jet, the Turbokat, or to the Cyclotrons - their low-riding motorcycle-like street units - when trouble threatened. Though definitely not publicly accepted by the Enforcers, they had enough support from the Mayor's office (mostly coming from Deputy Mayor Briggs) that they were 'suffered' to operate.

"So if we get caught, the worst that can happen is Callie bails us out," Jake grinned, pulling on his mask. Chance grunted in response as he adjusted his own mask.

His voice always became a shade grittier and rougher whenever he donned his mask as T-bone, but Jake-now-Razor thought he detected an extra bit of harshness this time. Razor certainly hoped that they could find Felina and convince her to release the files.

The SWAT Kats took to their Cyclotrons and to the street. Within minutes they had made their way to Enforcer Headquarters and pulled their vehicles into a dark and unused alley nearby with barely a purr of an engine to betray them. Without verbally consulting each other, they began piling junk on top of the Cyclotrons. It wasn't likely that anyone would find them and try to ride off with them, but it was possible - and they'd run foul of the security systems Razor had installed. Non-lethal, but it wouldn't do to have too many questions raised.

They made use of the nearby fire-escape and took it to the top of that building. Using their Glovatrixes, the SWAT Kats fired grappling hooks to a ledge next to the jet runway. They swung over the chasm made by the two tall buildings to Enforcer Headquarters and climbed their way to the concrete.

The whole trip had taken them almost a half hour and both were panting with the effort. Sitting on the deserted heli-pad, Razor looked over at his partner and wheezed, "Maybe we should have tried to get the files as private citizens first..." T-Bone glared without heat at his friend. Razor shrugged and grinned faintly, "Then again, what's a little midnight walk?"

"Mmph," was all the response he got. T-Bone pushed himself to his feet and strode to the exit next to the hangar doors. "Let's see if I remember where they hid the key..."

Though it was unlikely that an unfriendly force would have the gall to land on the Enforcer Headquarters' own top-story runway, there was enough risk to warrant locking the hangar doors when not in use and the exit for those who didn't leave or arrive in a jet. T-bone ran his hand along the bricks, searching for the loose one behind which lay the key. After a few seconds his fingers touched the right one; it wobbled under his probe. He smirked and pushed it on its hinge until the key on its hook was revealed.

"Still got that magic touch," he said smugly as he unlocked the metal door. It swung open without a squeak or squeal to betray them. T-Bone replaced the key as Razor silently slipped inside to make sure no insomniac pilot was cooing over his jet.

"Clear," he said under his breath, memory taking over as he lead the way through the unmanned hangar and to the stairs. The pair crept downstairs until they reached Lt. Feral's office. They exchanged glances and listened at the door.

An ear twitching, T-Bone murmured, "I think someone's in there."

"Knock?" Razor whispered in return. T-Bone nodded and knocked.

Instead of a husky female voice inviting them to step inside, the door swung inward violently and a tall shadow stood in the doorway. It was a Feral alright. But it was the Commander, rather than the Lieutenant. The eyes of the SWAT Kats widened behind their masks in surprise.

The three stared at each other before Commander Feral broke the silence. "A bit late for a business call...." He glared at them, apparently struggling with himself before he gave a grunt. "Might as well come inside. Close the door after yourselves."

T-Bone and Razor swapped shocked looks before doing as bidden, too stunned to do anything but. Feral had taken that moment to seat himself behind his niece's desk and give them both a basilisk's stare. "Not all Ferals are insomniacs - the Lieutenant went to bed an hour ago. What do you want?"

After a moment to recover, T-Bone stepped forward. "We were going to ask her if she would give us a file on a murder..." He paused, gaze dropping from Feral's to his fists. "An Enforcer I knew as a kid."

Feral's heavy eyebrows drew together quickly and he frowned deeply. "Then I assume you're working with my niece on that case of hers."

"Case?" Razor asked. "The Lieutenant is investigating Officer Felis's murder?"

The Commander's frown deepened even further and his strong fingers flexed on the desktop. "...Among others. I take it you two weren't aware that we've suffered similar murders for the last few years." He glared back up at them. "I suppose you two would only break in later to steal it, so I might as well give you my copy of the files."

The jaws of the two SWAT Kats dropped, but no sound came from their mouths. They were struck dumb, but quick as always, Razor recovered first. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful.. sir.. but why are you helping us?"

Feral fixed Razor with a gimlet eye and held the look long enough to make Razor shift his balance uneasily. "When you read the file, you'll understand. You're just lucky I came to retrieve this file tonight or it would have been days before you'd gotten a hold of it." He smirked faintly, a mixture of pride and disapproval. "You should actually be thankful it was me you met. I'm afraid my niece is taking this case personally and might not have let you work on it with her. She wants to get this guy herself."

"I know the feeling," T-Bone growled softly.

"No, you're not taking it as personally as she is, vigilante," Feral said, musing out-loud more than to them. "She refused the help of the FBI on this." He stared at T-Bone. "At least you brought in your partner on this. I think the only reason Felina came to me on this was because Steele threatened to report her for spending too much time on a case that she wasn't assigned to, so she came to me to assign her to it."

The SWAT Kats exchanged glances. This was much bigger than they'd ever thought. Feral stood and handed Razor a thick manila folder. "Here.." he growled, "I don't know how you got in, but I'm sure you can find a back way out. Now, go... And report into me if you find anything..." he added gruffly. They nodded, restrained the salute that came automatically to the situation, and left.

Leaving was much easier than entering, and they were soon clearing debris from their Cyclotrons. Neither had spoken more than a word each since their unusual 'interview' with Feral. By silent consent, they held their tongues until they'd safely returned to their hangar.

Razor removed his helmet and gave T-Bone a sidelong glance as they carefully checked the vehicles to make sure they were being properly stowed. He was silent and inward focused. The helpless rage seemed to have left him to be replaced with a cooler anger. "One of us should read it while the other cooks dinner," T-Bone said, finally, pulling off his mask and unzipping his uniform.

"You cook; I'll read," Razor said, following T-Bone's example and switching into his coveralls and stowing his uniform in his locker. Jake picked up the file on his way upstairs.

A half hour later, Chance dished up their dinner as Jake carefully read over the reports in the file. The two usually ordered out, but Jake understood Chance's need to keep things 'private' that night. They were so well known at the local delivery places that they usually sent cute girls to bring the food, since Chance tipped them extra. Chance wasn't in the mood for idle flirting and Jake wasn't particularly in the mood to see the disappointed looks on the delivery girl's face. So while neither of them were likely to be moonlighting as a restaurant chef, Chance was by far the better cook and Jake the one who read the dry reports more easily.

Chance turned his chair backwards and started shoveling the food into his mouth. "Anything?" he grunted around a mouthful.

"I only finished reading the overviews, not the separate case files, but there's definitely a pattern there."

"Mm. Figure out why Feral said we'd understand why he gave it to us?" Chance raised an eyebrow. "I don't think it was out of the kindness of his heart, if you know what I'm sayin'."

"It wasn't, really. Part of this guy's pattern, as established in another city, is that he works his way up the ranks, taking out the best of each Enforcer rank until he gets to the top."

Chance snorted. "So Feral was worried this guy was going to pop him so he wanted us to catch him first?"

"More to the point, Lieutenant Feral," Jake clarified. "He must have felt she was too close to the case, told her to go to bed and forget about it, and then later realized that before he'd be a target, his niece would."

"Huh. Figures the only reason he'd give us the file is if the Lieutenant was in danger."

"Hey, at least he did..." Jake trailed off, reading further into the report. Then he blanched. "That's not all - before this guy bugged out of his last city, he offed the mayor and deputy mayor..."

Chance's fork clattered to his plate. "Callie."

Callie smiled over at Gren across the table the next night. "So, how long have you been in the city?"

Gren's eyes stopped roving around the restaurant and he returned her smile. "Oh, long enough, I'd suppose," he responded evasively.

Her smile faltered a bit as she tried to come up with an appropriate response, but luckily was saved one by the arrival of the waiter.

"Are the lady and gentleman ready to order?" he asked politely, as if reading from the script of the epitome of 'expensive restaurant'.

Callie turned a bright, relieved smile upon him for his unwittingly saving her from an uncomfortable moment and gave him her order. Gren tossed her a look that was, of all things, disapproving and made his own order. The waiter quietly took their menus and went to the kitchen without a backward glance.

"You really shouldn't do that, Callie..." Gren said softly, eyes following the waiter.

She blinked, sitting up a little straighter and feeling her earrings swish past her cheeks at the sudden movement. "I... do what?" Honestly confused, she waited for his response.

"Flirt with him..." Gren looked back at her, frowning faintly.

Callie blinked again. "I'm sorry, did you say flirting with him?" A thread of incredulousness creeping into her voice.

Gren studied her expression for a moment before responding, with one of his faint smiles. "I beg your pardon, Callie. I must have misinterpreted the smile." His expression was still closed and disapproving.

Callie tried to control her expression to reveal none of her thoughts. Why do I feel as if I just walked into a very bad date..?

Felina Feral had come into work the day after she'd brought up the case with her uncle. She noticed that the file he had sent back to her was gone and wondered if her uncle had actually recollected it. She had wondered throughout the day whether that was a good or bad sign and eventually decided that since he hadn't said anything to her, it must be a good sign that he wasn't going to try to restrict her movements.

Well, good, she thought darkly as she started to close down for the night. If he had any idea of what I'm planning, he'd skin me alive and use my hide as an example to the rookies.

Felina had two residences, really. A small, almost closet sized room at Enforcer Headquarters, where she usually slept, and an apartment that her father insisted she get. Since her father, a rather prominent lawyer in another city, was paying the bill and it made him feel better to think that she stayed there, she let him do so. Instead of going to her room, she was going to be staying at her apartment for the next few nights. She knew quite well that she was a target, and she was hoping to trap the serial killer by encouraging him to come to her. It was an inconvenience, and she wouldn't be getting much sleep the next few weeks or months - however long it took - but she thought it'd be worth it.

She wasn't just interested in cuffing him for the sake of protecting other Enforcers. No, it was mostly personal. One of the murdered female Enforcers, Sara, was her first partner in the Force and one of the murdered male Enforcers, Charles, was an off and on boyfriend. There were a half a dozen other Enforcers that she'd had good working relationships with, and even friendships. But she was fighting for Sara and Charles.

Felina drove herself to her apartment, did a thorough search to make sure the murderer hadn't already arrived. Then she sat herself in a chair and began cleaning her gun - and waited.

Chance hadn't slept well that night, and was a little jumpy all day. The only reason he wasn't calling Callie and warning her was because Jake reasoned that they didn't have to worry unless the Ferals were attacked, since it would be against the serial killer's pattern to jump ahead in order. Chance admitted that the Ferals were good, but Chance didn't think that the murderer could necessarily be counted on to stay in his previous pattern.

But there was no reason to scare her when it was unlikely that he killer would change his pattern.. so Chance agreed to at least wait a few days.

For Chance, the afternoon seemed to drag on, filled with visions of Katie and Callie being tortured and murdered by someone who looked a lot like Gren Burbank. Chance's teeth were beginning to hurt from all the frustrated.. and helpless.. grinding he did.

Dinner was wonderful. The meal was, anyway. The dinner conversation was stilted and uncomfortable. Callie adjusted her glasses as she noticed that Gren was giving all the males in the room dark, challenging looks.

Inside, Callie cringed. He couldn't possibly be this possessive of her already, could he? Why did she always seem to attract the weirdoes? Though she supposed even with his over-protectiveness, he was still less creepy than the PastMaster...

Gren looked back over at her and Callie managed a faltering smile. After a moment, he returned it with his usual shy, boyish grin. "Sorry I've been... Ah, anxious tonight." Callie made no comment, but did raise her eyebrow slightly. He almost seemed to blush. "Could I maybe make it up to you? I make great cookies..."

His eyes pleaded with hers, and she felt herself cave. "Sure..." feeling cautious, she added, "I have all the materials at my place..." She dropped the hint subtly and saw his expression close as he thought about it. There was no way she was going to be entirely at his mercy at his place.

After a moment he nodded and smiled, though it looked a little strained. "Sounds perfect."

Commander Feral called his niece's quarters, and frowned when she didn't answer within a few rings. He hung up. She was probably working out. He'd call back in a half hour.

Callie and Gren drove back in silence, riding in his beautiful red sports car. He parked in her guest parking space in the basement and they took the elevator up to her floor, making the occasional comment, but otherwise quiet. Callie noticed that Gren seemed to be anxious. His fists clenched and his eyes kept darting around as if looking for witnesses. It made her nervous.

Callie unlocked her apartment door and waved Gren inside. His eyes surveyed the room and he nodded, as if to himself, and walked inside. She opened the closet and hung her light jacket inside of it, wondering just what she would do if he started acting... odd... again.

She heard a soft, dark laugh directly behind her. Callie started to turn and saw a strong, brownish-grey colored hand close over her face with a rag that smelt sickly sweet. The fumes made her dizzy and she barely managed to utter a protest as another hand closed around her arm, bruising tight. Callie swayed and slipped into darkness, barely making out a grinning face before succumbing to unconsciousness.

It was about ten o'clock and Felina had cleaned both of her blasters. One she hid; the other sat in her lap, her hand hovering over it, fingers surprisingly still. Her dark eyes stared straight ahead into the darkened room, eyes having adjusted to the lack of light, and every shadowed form in the room memorized.

She knew he would strike soon, but it didn't follow that he'd necessarily strike that night. But some sixth sense told her he would, and she was ready. She tried to keep her muscles relaxed, but her emotional state kept her body tensing up.

Felina was impatient. She'd never been particularly patient, and in this case, she was even less so. But she tried to control herself. The hours were torturously long, and if her mind hadn't been filled with the gruesome crime scene photos, she probably would have decided to just go back to her room at Headquarters and rethink her plan.

Charles... Sara... Felina closed her eyes a moment, to make sure her eyes weren't traitorous enough to shed a tear that she could ill-afford.

Her eyes flew open a second later, having heard a soft, muffled click. She scanned the darkened room, looking for a hint of movement - the slightest change in the shadowy shapes. She kept her breathing even and her pose relaxed, though her mind was screaming that someone was in the room.

If it weren't for that sixth sense, she would have put it off to an over active imagination - but she never had a particularly over active imagination at all. Her fingers slowly slid over the handle of the gun and her finger found the trigger. Her thumb touched the safety, but she didn't remove it. She was sure his hearing was as good as hers and he'd notice the sound.

So they waited, playing a game of who would break first. Felina felt a sweat droplet slide down her temple and she belatedly realized it would have made more sense for her to have at least brought in a back-up officer. No one, not even her uncle, knew she was there. Very few people knew she would even be in danger...

He gave a soft chuckle that raised the hair on the back of her neck. It was the first confirmation that she wasn't simply overreacting. She grimaced when she realized she couldn't even figure out the general direction he was in. She should have left the blinds open - but that would have revealed her position more clearly.

"So..." his voice whispered from that unidentifiable position in the room. "The Lieutenant is prepared. Excellent..." The barely restrained glee in his voice frightened her more than knowing she was in the room with him. She didn't bother to respond. "C'mon Felina..." His voice was like a caress as he lingered over her name. "Come after me."

She didn't rise to the bait, though she sensed his voice was coming closer. More beads of sweat formed on her forehead and between her shoulder blades. Her heart pounded in her ears, and still she heard the metallic click as she removed the safety on her gun.

He laughed, and she noted an edge of insanity to it. "Predictable. But that's alright, Felina... You failed, you know. I already have the Deputy Mayor. She was ridiculously easy to bag. Your uncle will be allowed to see your broken body before I kill him. And the mayor..." He laughed. "I don't see how you let him rule over you all. He's an incompetent fool and will be the easiest of all..." His voice was very close, and she still couldn't make him out in the gloom. "Make your move, Enforcer."

A finger stroked its way down her gun arm and with a yell of revulsion, she swung her arm through the air, hoping to club him with the back of her fist or with the gun. She was rewarded with a soft exhalation of air as she hit him in the chest and as she shoved herself out of her seat, she oriented in that direction.

"Don't move or I'll shoot!" she yelled in her best Enforcer manner. Partly she did so, hoping it would scare him, another part hoped that neighbors would overhear and call for help - but mostly it was because she was so frightened she needed the confidence hearing herself say that gave her.

He laughed, and it sounded as if he were beside her. A finger stroking her jaw confirmed this as she instinctively shoved herself away, yelling in anger and in fear. A stray ray of light slid between the blinds and glinted off the blade of a knife and Felina tasted bile in the back of her throat.

The murderer always disfigured his victims while they were still alive, before finishing it off by slitting their throats on their beds. She could never forgive herself if her uncle had to look at crime scene photos of herself, mutilated and posed on her bed, with her Enforcer uniform neatly folded at the foot, and her badge placed in an open palm. It would kill him.

Felina saw a shadow move to the left and fired, hearing him drop to the floor and the bullet embed itself in the wall. She tried to control her breathing so it came smooth and silent, otherwise she might drown out the sounds of his subtle movements. She bit her lip and tasted blood and winced, hoping it wasn't foreshadowing.

"'Lina, 'Lina, 'Lina... Won't you dance with me?" He asked in an off-key manner to the tune of a childhood nursery song. Before she could react with another shot, he tackled her and the momentum knocked them into the chair, which in turn toppled over. The impact inadvertently made her fire another shot, this time into the ceiling, and knocked most of the breath out of her lungs. Felina gasped for air and fought her attacker, who was trying to grab her gun.

"Won't you -" he puffed, wrestling with her and trying to pin her strong arms to the floor, "Enforcers ever learn? Don't - Mess - With - Me!" He put a knee on her left forearm, pinning it, and struggled with her right. He cuffed her across the face and she grunted with pain. He didn't succeed in taking the gun away from her, but he did manage to knock it out of her grip.

She gave a wordless yell, hoping something had encouraged the neighbors to call the Enforcers. The apartment wasn't exactly in the slums, so someone should have done so, but, then again, there were plenty of cases where people in better neighborhoods did nothing - not even call the Enforcers - when they knew something was happening.

She writhed and bucked under him, hoping to throw him off, but though he didn't weigh much more than she did, nor was he any taller or stronger, he had the leverage she lacked, and her legs were still tangled in the chair. She tried to claw at his eyes and arms, she tried to bring up her knee and force him over her body, but whatever Felina did, he managed to keep her down, and if the dark laugh he made was any indication, he found her attempts amusing.

"Oh my poor 'Lina. Must be so frustrating for you. Now just sit back and let me do my work..."

Felina felt a prick of a needle in her arm and a trill of alarm raced down her spine. Another yell of fear escaped her and she fought even harder, wincing as she felt the needle rake along her arm as she caught him off-guard. Patiently, he held her down and waited for the sedative to take effect.

Within minutes, her limbs felt like lead and she couldn't manage to struggle anymore. She slipped into some sort of paralyzed awareness. She could see and hear, but couldn't move or speak. She panted softly and decided to hoard her strength. Perhaps he hadn't been able to give her a full dose and she could fight him off when it really mattered...

There was a knock at the door and someone shouted through it, "Are you alright? Open up!"

The kat laughed softly and patted her cheek. "Don't worry, darlin'. I won't let them interrupt us." He pushed himself to a standing position, smoothed down his clothes and went to the door.

Felina couldn't see the door from where she lay, and though she tried desperately to yell or move, she couldn't. Fear filled her eyes, but she didn't let herself tear up. If she could have set her jaw with determination, she would have.

She strained her ears and heard them at the door, "Sorry about the noise, I came home and I guess I somehow turned on the tv. It took me forever to find the remote to turn down the volume! I thought I was going to have to unplug the thing!" There was a murmuring and the murderer laughed in a particularly light-hearted manner. "Yeah, I can completely understand that you called the Enforcers! This is so embarrassing! Well, good-night!"

The door was closed firmly and the killer strode back into the darkened room. He seemed to consider before picking up her arms and dragging her into the bedroom. "This was actually sort of fun, Felina. A worthy opponent." He hoisted her on the bed and began to arrange her limbs so that her ankles were crossed and her arms were outstretched, as if she were an angel in flight.

"Now," he whispered, and she heard a soft 'shhik' of a knife being drawn out of its sheath. "Let's get to work, shall we?"

Commander Feral paced his office. He'd called her room in Headquarters and she hadn't answered. The same for her office. He had even called the in-station gym, but the night-duty clerk said that he hadn't seen her at all that night.

His worried eyes fell on a letter from his brother, and Feral remembered that he'd insisted his daughter get her own apartment in the city so she wouldn't be tempted to bring her work home with her. Feral knew his niece rarely used it, but perhaps she'd gone there to think.

Feral flipped through his Rolodex until he found the number for the apartment and called. It rang several times with no answer. He was about to give up and hang up when the phone clicked. "Felina?" he asked.

The other end of the line was silent, and he could just barely make out the sound of someone breathing. "Felina?" he asked again, the hair on the back of his neck prickled. The person on the other end listened, and there was a whisper of a laugh. Feral gripped the phone, not allowing himself to breathe. The phone was set down with a clatter, as if it were merely dropped onto the receiver. The line went dead and the Commander felt as if his heart had stopped with it.

Quickly, he mashed down the hook on the phone and waited a second, then he called down to the front desk. "Enforcer HeadQuarters - front desk. Sergeant Chester speaking."

"Sergeant - This is the Commander. I need you to send some cars to an address - ready for it?"

Sergeant Chester stammered that he was and Feral barked the address as he gathered up his gun and holster and slung it over his shoulders. "Sir!" Chester said after imputing it into his computer, "That address just received a call not ten minutes ago about sounds of gunshots and a woman screaming. Then a few minutes later they called back to say it was just a tv..." The way he trailed off it was if he were pondering implying that Feral should also call it off, because it was obviously a mistake.

"That's exactly why you need to send cars," Feral ground out. He faltered a second and said in another tone, "...And send an ambulance. There may be an officer down." He hung up before the Sergeant could waste even a second more of his time and rushed for the elevator.

Please continue to the next segment!

~K