Karnage's Revenge

by Ann29

As preparations are made for Higher for Hire's one year anniversary celebration, Don Karnage makes his own plans to plunder Cape Suzette and to get even with Baloo for messing up his best schemes.

1. Sneaks, Snakes, and Surprises

Karnage's Revenge
Part 1

Talespin and its characters are property of Disney. Sam the Sheepdog and Ralph the Coyote are property of Warner Brothers. This story was written purely for fun. No money is being made from it. A special thanks goes out to my sister for all of her support, patience, and her excellent proofreading skills!

January 1938
Pirate Island
Thursday Night

One hundred sixty degrees south-southeast of Cape Suzette an archipelago of seven composite volcanoes, large and small, jutted from the dark, placid Pacific Ocean. Their jagged silhouettes, softened by a gossamer mist, stood out starkly against the face of the full moon. That humongous, shining orb seemed to float on the horizon directly behind the volcanoes. Continuous plumes of thick, sooty smoke issued from their peaks. An area not fit for habitation, you say? On the contrary, it was a hotspot of activity.

Inside the largest volcano was an enormous cavern illuminated by flaming torches embedded in the walls. The dancing firelight cast weird shadows over the stalactites and over the faces of the motley pirate crew gathered there. The leader of this rough band, a dashing brown wolf attired in a blue coat trimmed with gold buttons, grey pants, and black boots, was standing on a makeshift stage constructed of crates. A scabbard hung at his side. A menacing and - dare I say it? - slightly insane, air enveloped his very being. A dangerous combination. But he had to be a tad insane to attempt what he was about to attempt.

"Listen up with the ears!" the pirate captain - Don Karnage by name - bellowed. When his crew continued to gabble amongst themselves, he drew his sword, threatening, "Or you will all suffer the turnip and sandpaper treatment!"

The pirates immediately became silent and turned their full attention towards Karnage. Torture by turnips and sandpaper was nothing to laugh at.

"That's better. I have call-ed you all here to make a spectaculous announcement." He paced up and down the stage, running his finger across the edge of his sword. "Soon, very soon, we will plunder the city of Cape Suzette from top to bottomouses. Money, jewels, all the free food you can eat!"

A collective cheer arose from the pirates. Many threw their hats up into the air.

"However, we will not stop with the sundry plunder of Cape Suzette. We will go on to take over," as Karnage paused for effect, all of the pirates leaned forward eagerly for the announcement; "the world!"

The pirates cheered again, louder this time.

Karnage clomped across the stage furiously, a pensive scowl on his rugged features. "This time will be different than the other attempts. I have made very, very sure about that fact."

"You mean we'll actually be able to carry something out of Cape Suzette besides a kitchen sink, Captain?" whined a lanky brown ferret with a droopy mustache - Mad Dog.

Karnage slashed at Mad Dog with his saber, who luckily ducked in time to avoid the blade; but the ferret wasn't lucky enough to miss Karnage's palm as it came in contact with his cheek. "Yes, that's exactly what I mean, you eediot! Isn't it painfully oblivious?"

Mad Dog nodded, rubbing his red cheek. "Definitely painful, Captain."

"This time we cannot fail, for I have the most wonderful, most crafty plans!" Don Karnage's chuckle turned into laughter bordering on maniacal. To himself, he added, "And I will finally get even with that estupid, meddlesome pilot Bahloo."

Karnage hurled his sword towards a grainy black-and-white picture of a large grey bear who was flashing a confident grin and a thumbs-up at the camera. It was a cutout from the Cape Suzette Tribune touting Baloo's latest heroic deed. The sword's point hit Baloo smack on the conk.

Outside, an immense, black form slithered in front of the volcano, eerily blotting out the view of the full moon.

Friday Afternoon

It was a characteristic day in the south Pacific - faultlessly beautiful. Despite the fact that it was January, bright sunshine glinted off of the gently rolling waves of the sparkling azure ocean. A warm, but not-too-hot, breeze sent fluffy white cumulus clouds scudding across the brilliant blue sky.

The serenity of the scene was broken by the hum of twin Superflight 100 engines. An orange-trimmed, yellow Conwing L-16 seaplane burst through the clouds. Trailing behind the plane was a small figure.

"Wahoo!" Kit Cloudkicker shouted with exultation, laughing. From the big smile on his face, it was obvious that the thirteen-year-old brown bear cub was having the time of his life. Cloudsurfing was his favorite pastime. The boy swayed back and forth behind the airplane, clinging to a rope that had a handle attached to the end specially for his benefit. Sprays of opaque mist arose in the airfoil's wake as he skimmed over the tops of clouds. Just for good measure, he let go of the handle and did a back-flip, catching the rope and simultaneously landing on the airfoil with practiced, graceful agility.

In the distance, ahead of the seaplane, a speck of green and brown land was visible through the clouds. It was the home of Louie's Place - a nightclub situated on a small, picturesque tropical island just a tankful of gas away from Cape Suzette. The nightclub, a thatch-covered bamboo building constructed around a one-hundred-year-old wrecked sailing ship, was surrounded by palm trees and thick jungle vegetation. Looming behind the nightclub was a scraggy mountain. On top of this mountain was a gigantic red sign - 'Louie's' - that could be seen from miles away.

Pilots called Louie's Place the 'garden spot of the South Seas'. It was indeed a pilot's paradise. Pilots from the four corners of the world gathered there for refreshments (especially the world-famous Krakatoa Special), entertainment in the form of live bands, pleasant accommodations, refueling, airplane repairs, and, of course, to see the swinging ape who owned it - Louie himself.

All too soon - in Kit's opinion - the tow rope retracted into the plane. The boy jumped off his silver, metallic airfoil into the cargo hold. With the push of a button, the airfoil folded like a fan; he concealed it beneath his olive green sweater. Whistling, he bounced into the cockpit and took his place in the navigator's seat, buckling his seatbelt. He flashed a smile at the overweight grey bear wearing a yellow button-down shirt and red cap reposing in the pilot's seat.

"Good clouds, Kit-boy?" Baloo asked jovially, playfully pushing Kit's blue and red baseball cap down over his eyes.

"Great, Baloo!" Kit replied, his youthful voice exuding enthusiasm. He adjusted his cap, making sure that the bill was flipped to the back as became a proper navigator.

Languidly, Baloo observed, "Sure is a super-duper day."

"Yeah, but when do we ever have really bad weather here?"

"Not too often, L'il Britches. I've lived here all my life an' haven't seen anythin' worse'n rain or hail. We're lucky enough ta be so far south, not like in Thembria where Jack Frost nips at yer toes all year round. Brrrr!"

"We had snow last Christmas, remember, Papa Bear?"

"Yeah, but that was an extry-special present from Santa." Baloo winked at Kit, who grinned in response.

The Sea Duck descended towards Louie's and taxied up to the docks where several monkey attendants swarmed around the plane, washing the windshields, refueling, etc. Pilot and navigator alighted from the seaplane and strolled towards the nightclub. Because it was the middle of the afternoon, the place was nearly empty; only three, identical grey panther pilots sporting maroon jackets with Shere Khan's insignia on the shoulder were clustered about a table. Baloo and Kit perched on stools at the tiki bar where a large reddish-brown ape was busily preparing drinks.

"Hiya, Louie," Baloo greeted.

"Be with ya in a sec, Cuz," Louie said, slinging ice cream, milk, strawberries, bananas, and melon into a blender. He pressed the button to set the blender whirring with one hand while simultaneously mixing up a second drink with his other hand and one foot. Of course, he scat sang through the whole process. "Oh bow doo bow doo do bwah bwah do be bwah doo be dee dee dee doo..." He placed the frothy shakes on a tray and a simian waiter delivered them to the panthers.

"Lemme guess," Louie surmised, smirking; he closed his eyes and rubbed his temples with his fingers, pretending to read their minds; "two Krakatoa Specials for the world's most primo pilot an' his navigator?"

"Not today, Innkeeper," Baloo replied with a grin.

"What!" Louie exclaimed; his jaw dropped in amazement. "You comin' down with somethin', Baloo?" He placed a paw on Baloo's brow. "That sundae's your all-time fav."

Baloo brushed Louie's hand aside. "Still is, Pal, but me an' Kit gotta save room for sweets later on. The boss lady's throwin' a big blowout bash for Higher for Hire's one year anniversary."

"That never stopped you before, Baloo," Kit commented wryly with a covert wink at Louie.

"Yeah, an' it shows!" Louie laughed. "When are ya expectin' the little bundle of joy?"

"Yeah, yuk it up, you two, but now that ya mention it," Baloo began thoughtfully, patting his ample stomach, "the 'Big Guy's' feelin' a little empty after runnin' those tennis shoes ta New Fedora. A large Louie's pizza piled high with anchovies would hit the spot."

"An-an-an-anchovies! No way, no how, man!" Louie furiously waved his hands before him as he backed away from Baloo. His countenance was full of fearful repulsion as he averred adamantly, "You know that anchovies an' Louie don't jive, Clive!"

Baloo's straight face finally cracked. Guffawing, he clapped Louie on the shoulder. "Just joshin' ya, Louie."

Louie wiped cold sweat from his forehead. "Never scare me like that, cuz!"

"Change it to a cheeseburger an' fries. That oughtta tide me over 'til we get ta Cape Suzette."

"Make that two, please," Kit chimed in.

"Double order of burgers an' fries comin' right up."

Just then, Wiley Pole burst into the nightclub. Everyone turned to stare at the husky lion, who was in his mid-forties. He was truly an amazing sight, especially in the warm tropics. Icicles dangled from his tan mustaches. His auburn jacket was covered with snow as was his tan fur. He removed his frosty flight goggles from his face, leaving two rings where snow hadn't penetrated. He shivered from head to toe.

"Wiley, ol' man, what happened to you? Fly through one of them Thembrian blizzards?" Louie inquired as he assisted Wiley to a table. The pilot shed a trail of snow on the floor.

"Naw," shivered Wiley. "Was more like ah...ah...ah-choo! A monster!"

"Monster?" Baloo, Louie, and Kit echoed in disbelief. They crowded around the same table as Wiley.

"A monster that breathed snow!"

"Whoa! Time out, Wiley." Louie made a shape of a 'T' with his hands. "Why doncha start from the get-go?"

Wiley's speech was punctuated by sneezes and sniffles. "Well, I was on my way out of Aridia. I had just been deliverin' some parchments for an archeologist lady by the name of Myra."

Baloo interrupted with, "Nice gal.".

"Aridia? But that's a desert country," Kit reminded. "It can't snow in the desert."

"Yeah, that's what I thought, too, Kit, but after today, I'm willing to believe anything. Just outside of the capital city of Kairo it was real foggy for some reason. Never seen fog so thick in my life. Couldn't see two inches in front of my plane. There wasn't any place to land in that canyon. It's too narrow. An' it's the only way out of Kairo. So I had no choice but to keep going, keep my flaps down, and keep my eyes peeled."

Baloo, rocking back in the hardbacked chair, remarked, "Aridia's usually dry as a bone from a million-year-old dinosaur fossil. Shouldn't have enough moisture in the air for fog ta form."

Louie brought Wiley a cup of steaming hot chocolate. One of the waiters - Waldo - draped a blanket around Wiley's shoulders.

Wiley nodded his head, warming his hands on the mug. "I know, but today it was foggy for some reason. Anyway, I was being careful navigatin' through the canyon when all of a sudden the wind picked up. Thought a sandstorm was comin'. Got real cold, real fast, too. Then out of nowhere swooped this gigantic...thing!"

"What did it look like?" Kit asked avidly, his eyes wide.

Wiley took a sip of his hot chocolate. "Couldn't tell. Couldn't see if for all the blowing snow, you see, and I wasn't going to stick around to find out what it was. When I got outta the canyon, the weather cleared up. Got warm again." Wiley trembled from cold and fright. "You couldn't pay me to go back there to that spot!"

Baloo laughed. With a dismissive wave of his paw, he scoffed, "Aw, you just ran into a freak snowstorm. There's no such thing as monsters that breathe snow."

Across the room, Khan's pilots heard Baloo's statement. One panther pilot whispered in derogatory tones, "Freelancers and their fairytales!" prompting smirks of superiority from his cronies. They knew that Shere Khan hired only the best pilots.

"I've flown through blizzards before. That was definitely no everyday blizzard," Wiley said with a fierce shake of his head, causing snow to fly from his mane. "My instruments indicated that it was 110° F outside the cockpit right before that blizzard hit. Then it dropped to below freezing just like," he snapped his fingers, "that. Temperatures don't change that quickly. At least, not normally. This was some kind of creature."

"I've heard of fire-breathing dragons, but a snow-spittin' monster?" Louie commented, placing plates of cheeseburgers and fries before Baloo and Kit. "Craaazy what they come up with nowadays. What'll it be next? Gigantic Easter bunnies?"

Baloo had just taken the first bite out of his cheeseburger when Kit tugged on his sleeve. He pointed to his wristwatch. "We've got to go, Papa Bear, or we'll be late, and Miz Cunningham will be mad."

Around a mouthful of cheeseburger, Baloo mumbled, "After I chow this chow down, kiddo."

Kit shook his head reprovingly. He didn't like being Baloo's conscience, and didn't like nagging his beloved Papa Bear. Truthfully, he wanted to stay at Louie's longer, too, but he knew if they were late their boss would figuratively explode. Peace was preferable to a second Great War. Smiling enigmatically, Kit poked at a small bulge in Baloo's left-hand pocket. It was blackmail, but a navigator had to do what a navigator had to do. "I'm sure Rebecca would like to know what this is."

"You wouldn't!"

A cunning expression flashed across Kit's visage that made him appear older than his thirteen years. He nodded. "You wanna bet?"

"Awright, you win, Kit-boy." Baloo heaved a heavy sigh as if he were making a great sacrifice. He wrapped the food up in a napkin. "We'll eat it on the way." He headed for the door uttering a cheery, "Catch ya later, Louie."

Louie waved at them. "Bye, cuz, an' watch out for the abominable snowman."

"Whatcha make of that, partner?" Baloo asked, climbing into the Sea Duck's cockpit after Kit.

"Definitely bizarre, but Wiley Pole's not the type to make up stories." Kit absently munched on a french fry and gazed out the window as the Sea Duck gained altitude, deep in thought about what he just heard. He didn't have to give Baloo the coordinates. The big bear could fly from Louie's to Cape Suzette in his sleep - and sometimes he had done just that. "Do you really think that there could be a blizzard monster in Aridia?"

"I'm more worried about the boss monster when we get home." After leveling the plane out, Baloo reclined in the seat, steering with his feet. He hungrily chomped into his cheeseburger; a drop of ketchup squirted out and dribbled down his shirt. Not really caring about the sloppy state of his clothes, Baloo scraped the ketchup off as best as he could with a french fry, which he promptly crammed in his mouth.

"Aw, Baloo, Miz Cunningham's not that bad."

Baloo snorted incredulously. "You're just sayin' that 'cause Becky never yanks on yer ears when she gets riled up."

"Yeah," Kit shot a sly, sideways grin over at the big bear, "but that's because she's too busy yanking on yours, Papa Bear."

"Smarty-pants." Baloo threw a french fry at his navigator.

Twenty minutes later, the Sea Duck soared through the crack between rugged cliffs. It was the gateway to Cape Suzette.

Cape Suzette. A wonderland of innovation and architecture. A beautiful, bustling metropolis located in southwestern Usland. A major hub of commerce with multitudes of skyscrapers stretching towards the sky. Ships and airplanes from all over the world brought their goods there in exchange for the many wonders that Usland had to offer. The city itself was sandwiched between verdant, conical-shaped hills and a sparkling blue crescent of a harbor. Bordering on the western edge were the massive cliffs, enclosing the bay and city in its protective arms. These cliffs were well-fortified with large cannons, which made it difficult for unwanted intruders, such as Don Karnage and his gang, to invade.

The Sea Duck skirted two seaplanes, a glider, and a blimp before splashing down for a landing in front of Higher for Hire: a square, lighthouse-type structure with an adjoining small warehouse. Atop the tin-roofed lighthouse was a windsock that fluttered in the breeze. The unpainted brown building, jutting out onto the docks, was surrounded by paving stones except for a small, fenced-in square of grass and a spreading elm tree in the rear. A houseboat, belonging to Higher for Hire's mechanic Wildcat, was moored to the seawall next to the Higher for Hire. The houseboat was constructed of a fuselage and odd bits of this and that. It wasn't the most prosperous or picturesque place in Cape Suzette, but to Baloo and Kit it was home.

Stepping from the plane, Baloo said, "We're only a half hour late. Hope that's close enough to count as on time for Miz Manager."

Pilot and navigator walked up the dock towards the Higher for Hire. Today, it appeared unusually festive. Streamers and bright bunches of balloons were draped along the 'Higher for Hire' sign at the end of the dock.

"Looks like Miz Cunningham's got the decorations up for Higher for Hire's anniversary celebration," Kit commented, looking up at the white life preserver hanging above his head. Below the red, stenciled 'Higher for Hire' was a bright red and blue crepe paper bow.

Opening the door to the office, they heard an indignant woman's voice snap, "Ow! Hey, watch it!" The door shut with a bang.

A second later the door opened a crack. Molly Cunningham stuck her head around the door, grinning. "Hi, Baloo! Hi, Kit!" The little yellow seven-year-old bearess was clad in a pink shirt and blue overalls with matching blue ribbons around her fuzzy ears. In her hands was a tape dispenser. A piece of Scotch tape was stuck to her nose. She proclaimed proudly, "I'm Tape Girl!"

"Hey, Molly, er, Tape Girl," Kit replied, smiling down at her. He gently pulled the piece of tape from her nose. "Is this your secret disguise?"

"You're silly, Kit. It's just a piece of tape."

"What's goin' on in there, Button-nose?" Baloo inquired, peeking through the little square window into the office.

"Mommy and me are decorating in here. You almost squished her with the door, Baloo," the little girl scolded, her hands on her hips. She stared up at the big bear with a look full of disapproval.

"Oops," Baloo snickered.

"And it wasn't funny, flyboy," Rebecca Cunningham snapped, causing the goofy grin to drop from Baloo's face. A petite brown bearess sporting a magenta cardigan over a white turtleneck and purple slacks opened the door to let her flight crew in; her facial expression and demeanor mirrored her daughter's. She checked her wristwatch. "Only a half an hour late today, Baloo. I should throw parties every day, then maybe you'll be prompt more often."

"Yep, ol' Baloo can't stand to be late for parties," the big bear agreed.

Molly held up her arms; Baloo picked her up and tossed her into the air, inciting a squeal of joy from the little girl.

While Baloo played with Molly, Kit sidled into the room and handed the receipt of delivery to Rebecca. His reward was a warm smile directed solely at him, the kind of smile that Rebecca reserved for Kit and Molly, a smile that brightened the boy's whole day. As a pirate treasured precious jewels, orphan Kit treasured each loving smile, each kind word, and each fond caress from his surrogate parents, Baloo and Rebecca.

Without missing a beat, Rebecca placed the receipt in her pocket and got right back into the skirmish with her pilot.

"Even if you're late for everything else. Actually, your being on time is something to celebrate," Rebecca retorted sarcastically, standing on tiptoe to reach the top of the doorframe, but coming up a little short. "It's high time that you learned to be punctual."

"Hey, I'm punctual...some of the time." After rubbing noses with Molly, Baloo put her down.

"Meal times," Rebecca rejoined facetiously with a little chuckle, prompting an indignant frown from the big bear. "I can't quite reach this, Baloo. Could you...?" She held out the roll of red crepe paper.

To Rebecca's surprise, Baloo placed his hands around her waist and lifted her so that she was level with the top of the door.

"High enough there, boss lady?" Baloo grinned up at her.

"Why, um...yes...um, thank you." She didn't know what flustered her more - his paws securely about her or the teasing, tender glint in his eyes. Rebecca artistically scalloped red streamers across the doorframe and tacked a big bow of red, white, and blue in the middle. "That's it, Baloo."

Baloo lowered her to the floor. "Call me if ya need another lift. I got me a date with a snack."

"Don't you dare touch that cake!" Rebecca said, following her pilot through the office to the kitchen. "That's for tonight's party."

"Cake? Hmm-mmm! Don't mind if I do," Baloo saucily tossed over his shoulder even though he had no intention of eating a morsel of it. He just wanted to get the last word, and it was fun to egg his boss on. Rebecca was cute when she was in a temper.

The cubs looked at each other and shrugged. They'd become accustomed to this kind of bantering over the past year. A lot of the time, Baloo and Rebecca argued just for the sake of arguing. It was how they communicated, and, occasionally, how they flirted.

Kit glanced around the office. Except for last Christmas, it had never appeared so festive. Rebecca had gone all out on the decorations. Light blue crepe paper twisted around the banister leading upstairs. Crepe paper in lavender and yellow festooned Rebecca's desk at the far end of the room. Streamers were also draped over the filing cabinets under the stairwell as well as every door and window, even over the doors of the bathroom and the bedroom that he shared with Baloo. Two bunches of colorful balloons were taped to the back of the squashy, maroon armchair in the corner. To top it all off, a large banner reading, 'Happy Anniversary Higher for Hire' hung from the upstairs landing over Rebecca's desk.

From an empty upended crate thatserved as an end-table beside the patched armchair, Kit retrieved a model of the Sea Duck.

Molly brandished her favorite doll in the boy's face. "Lucy wants a ride. Pleeeeeaaaase, Kit?"

"Sure thing, Short Stuff."

A brown-haired, brown-eyed doll in a blue dress was placed on top of the disproportionally small aircraft. Kit zoomed the dolly around the room with Molly supplying the airplane noises.

"Watch out for air pirates, Captain Lucy!" Molly warned, chasing after Kit. "There's lots of them 'round here. Eeeeerrrrrrrrrrrr... There's one! Oh, no! The pirate is shooting at you! Ack-ack-ack-ack! Roll! Roll!"

Baloo emerged from the kitchen with one donut in his mouth and one stuck on his left index finger like a ring

Rebecca trailed after the pilot, continuing to badger him. "And why do you have to eat those donuts, Baloo? What about the diet that you promised you would go on? All that extra weight isn't good for you."

"Where do ya get off tellin' me what's good for me?" Angrily, he ripped a big bite out of his donut.

"Because I care about...about..." flustered, she amended quickly, "about Higher for Hire. If we're going to make a profit, the Sea Duck needs its pilot in top shape, and round is not an acceptable shape."

"Always about the shaboozies, ain't it, Becky?" Baloo guessed gruffly.

"No, Baloo," Rebecca was truly taken aback at that statement. "You know that Higher for Hire means more to me than that. It means everything to me - a home and a life and a fam...and everything." She decided to change the subject. "You stopped at Louie's, didn't you?"

"How'd ya know?"

With her forefinger, she traced the biggest red blob on his shirt. "Here's the evidence, Flyboy. Your battalion of stains betray you."

Baloo glanced down at his shirt. "We weren't in any battles, Becky. That's just ketchup."

Placing a hand to her head as if she felt a headache coming on, Rebecca inferred, "That's probably the reason why you were late. Good thing we didn't have another delivery today, or you would have been in big trouble, Buster!"

"Nag, nag, nag..." Baloo murmured sullenly under his breath as he dropped into his favorite easy chair. He was becoming annoyed by her constant complaints about his personal habits. It had been a long, hard day. All he wanted to do was take a little snooze. "Listen, Perfect-a Rebecca, why doncha stop harpin' on me an' use yer perfect little angel wings ta fly yerself back to yer desk." He swiftly tugged the bill of his cap down over his eyes.

But Rebecca wasn't easily deterred. She leaned over the chair's arm, nearly nose to nose with the big bear. To get his attention she snatched the cap from his head and held it behind her back. "Hamburgers, Baloo?"

"For yer information, Miz Know-It-All, it was cheeseburgers, not hamburgers." Baloo flashed her an infuriating smug smirk before taking a big bite of donut.

"Oh, that's such a difference!" Rebecca rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. "I'm surprised you didn't tell me that those stains were from pygmies bombarding you with giant tomatoes. You always tell me some dumb excuse to get out of trouble."

"I do not always tell you some dumb excuse," he protested in his mouth-full-of-donut voice. He grabbed his cap back and put it on with an umbrageous air.

"You do, too, Baloo. Let me name a few." Rebecca counted off on her fingers, "Air pirates, hurricanes, blizzards, volcanoes, cannibals, air pirates again, typhoons, more air pirates, and the list goes on and on."

"See, I've never told ya 'bout bein' attacked by pygmies with giant tomatoes. Shows how much you know, Becky." In his most worldly manner, he stated, "Pygmies throw maraschino cherry bombs."

"Maraschino cherry bombs! I don't believe it!" Rebecca threw up her hands in exasperation.

Complacently, Baloo rejoined, "Ask Louie if ya don't believe me. He was there, too."

"You expect me to believe anything that hairy ape says?" Rebecca retorted dryly.

At that statement, Baloo pushed his cap up to glower at his boss. Nothing infuriated him more than a disparaging remark about one of his friends. "Stop puttin' down my pals, Rebecca!" he growled, clenching and unclenching one of his massive fists.

Their squabble was teetering on the verge of evolving into a full-fledged, rip-roaring battle. Rebecca opened her mouth to say her next comeback when...

The telephone's rang, much to the relief of the children, who had been watching the escalating tension from their perches on the stairs. When the adults had started really yelling at each other, their play had been forgotten. Molly tightly clung to one of Kit's paws with both hands. Neither cub looked very happy.

Rebecca ran to answer it. "Higher for Hire. If you're buying, we're flying...Yes...Yes, he's here." She held the receiver out to Baloo. "It's Shere Khan. He wants to speak to you Baloo," she told him quietly, looking quite puzzled.

Baloo plunked his half-eaten donut on Rebecca's neat desk. Frowning, Rebecca indignantly brushed crumbs off of her ledger.

"Hello? What's up, Khanny?"

Everyone watched Baloo as he conversed on the telephone.

"Yuh-huh...Okay...Sure...Be right over...'Kay, bye." Baloo hung up the receiver.

"What did he want, Papa Bear?" Kit inquired. Both he and Molly approached the adults.

"It must have been important," Rebecca surmised. "Shere Khan doesn't make it a habit of calling little people like us."

Baloo popped the remainder of the donut into his mouth. With a spray of crumbs, he responded, "He wants ta see me soon as possible, meanin' now."

"Why?" Rebecca asked, putting a comforting arm around both cubs' shoulders in case the news should be disturbing.

"Don't know why, Becky. He didn't go inta details. C'mon, Kit." Bear and cub hurried outside to hail a taxi.

Shere Khan's Office

Shere Khan, the wealthiest man in Usland, reposed in his high-backed chair in his opulent office in Khan Towers - the tallest skyscraper in Cape Suzette. The tall tiger businessman in a ludicrously expensive three-piece navy suit gazed apathetically out his ceiling-to-floor, wall-to-wall window, down on the city of Cape Suzette, aglow in the late afternoon sunshine. The glass reflected his grim expression. Today he had more on his mind than just money and power. Much more. The fate of the world hinged, perhaps, on the pilot that he was anticipating, and that unsettled Shere Khan. He preferred having the world in his own hands, plying people as a puppeteer would control a marionette, or at least being able to buy off his adversaries with huge sums of money. Hearing the elevator doors open, he swivelled in his chair.

"Ah, Baloo," he purred in his cultured bass voice as pilot and navigator made their way across the dim office, past the thick jungle foliage bordering both sides of the room to where the tiger was waiting behind his large mahogany desk. Both the desk and chair were scarred with countless claw marks, attesting to Khan's nasty temper. Elbows on desk, fingertips pressed together, he continued, "I've sent for you since you seem to be the only one who can help me with this little dilemma."

Baloo shared a concerned look with Kit. "What's the buzz, Khanny?"

One of Shere Khan's eyebrows raised slightly in astonished amusement at Baloo's word choice. "The correct question, Baloo, would be where's the buzz. My inventor Buzz is missing."

"Missing!" both bears exclaimed in unison.

In his usual composed manner, Khan explained, "The last time he was seen was last Tuesday. He was leaving work at approximately 9:00 PM."

"Workin' overtime on a project?" Baloo interjected.

"No, actually, I let him leave early that day as a reward on a breakthrough pertaining to his latest top-secret invention."

Baloo and Kit flashed each other an astonished look, each telegraphing silently, Long hours!

"Uh, that was real generous of ya," Baloo stammered uncertainly, "lettin' him leave so, um, early."

"Mmm...yes, wasn't it?" Khan replied, his lips twitching. "The doorman saw him climb into a taxi, and he hasn't been heard from since. I understand that you and he are friends, Baloo."

Baloo nodded. He whipped off his hat and began crushing it in his paws: a sure sign that he was agitated. "Known Buzz ever since I was a kid. Do ya got any leads?"

"My best and most trusted agents are on the case, but so far they have discovered nothing of his whereabouts."

"Have you tried his favorite thinkin' spot in the NoSmokey Mountains?"

"Yes, but Buzz's traps have rendered my best men useless. That's why I need you, Baloo. Being Buzz's friend, I thought that perhaps you knew how to evade the traps."

Baloo rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully. "Can't say as I do."

"Of course, I'd be willing to pay you handsomely for his safe return," the businessman added blandly. Money was definitely no object. Overlooking Buzz's absentmindedness, a loyal, brilliant inventor was difficult to come by.

"Aw, you don't owe us anythin', Khan." Baloo put a hand on Kit's shoulder. "Kit an' me'll be willin' ta find Buzz for Buzz's sake. That old bird's gotten me out of more scrapes than I got bandages."

Kit nodded his acquiesce.

"Very good. Contact me if you obtain any information." Shere Khan swivelled his chair back to his window, signifying that the meeting was over.

The NoSmokey Mountains

Northeast of Cape Suzette was a mountain range consisting of extinct volcanoes appropriately named the NoSmokey Mountains. The slopes of these volcanoes, which had oozed with smouldering hot molten lava eons before, were now green with old-growth oak forests. The places where dinosaurs had roamed were now inhabited by scampering squirrels and grazing deer. The Sea Duck circled around one of the mountains until Baloo spotted a cleared strip to land.

"Keep yer peepers peeled for Buzz's traps, L'il Britches," Baloo reminded as he and Kit hopped from the plane.

"You're telling me, Baloo. The last time we visited Buzz, I almost got chopped in two by a giant axe."

Their feet sank into the velvety green grass that carpeted the forested glade as they cautiously treaded up the slight incline of the mountain, skirting every depression of earth, every scattering of twigs that looked suspicious, and, therefore, might be concealing a trap. However, they weren't careful enough...

Faster than you can say 'gotcha', Kit vaulted through the air courtesy of a giant flyswatter. He landed a few yards away on a giant strip of flypaper.

"Unh...get me...ugh...outta here, Papa Bear!" Kit said, trying, without much success, to become unstuck from the sticky, honey-colored substance. He writhed on his back much like a trapped fly.

"Man, talk about yer sticky wickets!"

Taking the boy by both hands, Baloo wrenched Kit from the flypaper. They both tumbled head over heels backwards only to plunge through a hole in the earth. From there, they slid down a long metallic tube until they landed on a hard-packed earthen floor with a collective "oof!" They were in Buzz's laboratory.

"Buzz, ya down here?" Baloo's voice reverberated through the cavern/lab.

They listened for a reply. Without the usual clacking, humming, and beeping of Buzz's equipment and inventions, it was completely silent, so silent that their ears strained for the minutest sound, but were unable to find one except the faraway drip, drip of water.

Baloo scrambled to his feet and helped Kit to his. "Lights are on, but nobody's home."

"Gosh, Baloo, it looks like a hurricane blew through here," Kit said, picking up an unidentifiable part from the floor and setting it on a cluttered counter.

"Yeah, Buzz must have left in a hurry," Baloo commented, peeking underneath a counter for the inventor. "He didn't bother ta pick up like he usually does."

The lab was indeed a mess. Inventions were overturned. A few were smashed. One had long gashes in it as if someone had slit it apart with a sharp knife. Tools as well as spare pieces of this and that were scattered on the floors and counters.

"Or someone has been here before us searching for something," Kit suggested softly. "Do you think he could have been kidnaped, Papa Bear?"

"Who would wanna kidnap Buzz?"

"Who indeed?" Kit mused, turning over a piece of wire in his hands. Only one person came to mind - the nefarious air pirate Don Karnage.

Meanwhile at Pirate Island

The Iron Vulture, the air pirates' mammoth purple and black mother-ship floated in the secluded cove secreted inside Pirate Island. In the hangar of this sizeable ship-of-the-air was Don Karnage. Standing beside him was a small bird with googly eyes wearing a rumpled brown suit and pink polka-dotted bow tie that was slightly askew. His head was fringed with an unruly mop of grey hair. He held a small black box and a joystick in his hands. The inventor nervously shifted from one foot to the other, not exactly liking the greedy expression on Don Karnage's face.

"Is the device ready, Mr. Invention-inventor?" Karnage demanded of Buzz.

"N...not quite, Don Karnage, sir. There are still a few bugs that need to be worked out," the inventor stammered.

"No matter. We will worm the bugs out." The pirate captain snatched the box from Buzz and stuck it to the control panel of a brown, tri-wing CT-37, courtesy of magnetic strips on the back of the box. "Mad Dog! Time for a test spin!"

"Why me?" Mad Dog whined. However, the lanky ferret obediently climbed into the plane, started it up, and took off.

Seizing the joystick from Buzz, Karnage smiled an evil smile that showed all of his pointy teeth. He flipped the on switch up, causing a little green light to light up on the remote control receiver. He then yanked down on the joystick. The plane dove towards the floor with Mad Dog screaming, "Heeeeeelllllllppp!" all the way. Dumptruck and Gibber, passing through the hangar, had to hit the deck as the plane skimmed over their heads.

Karnage jerked the joystick from side to side. The airplane aped the joystick's movements by sharply zigzagging from side to side, ricocheting off of the sides of the hangar.

"Get me off of this crazy thing!" Mad Dog yelled. "Ouch! Ow! Oh, that'll be black and blue tomorrow!"

Anxiously, Buzz murmured repeatedly, "Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear." He had never meant for his invention to hurt anyone.

"I am loving this!" Karnage exclaimed enthusiastically as he gave Mad Dog a roller-coaster of a ride.

After a few minutes of joyriding, the plane came in for a bumpy landing It stopped right at Karnage's and Buzz's feet. Mad Dog literally poured out of the cockpit to the floor, moaning, his face a sick shade of yellow-green. He appeared as if he had been through the spin cycle.

"Now can I go, Mr. Karnage, sir?" Buzz asked, hoping against hope.

"Why would you want to go? Aren't we having fun? I have more plans for your big brain." Picking Buzz up by the scruff of his suit, he added, "If you will kindly step this way I will tell you how you can assist me more in achievement of my magnificent plans." Over his shoulder, he barked, "Dumptruck! Mad Dog! It is time to feed our illuminous guest!"

"Yes, Captain." Dumptruck threw Mad Dog's limp, dizzy form over his shoulder.

A Dark, Spooky Cavern

Knee-deep in salt water and trembling with fear, Mad Dog and Dumptruck stood before the entrance to the gigantic, colossal entrance to the creature's lair - another large cavern in Pirate Island.

"You go first," Mad Dog said, giving Dumptruck a nudge towards the dark, gaping hole.

"It's your turn to feed it. You go first," Dumptruck answered, his voice thick with a Norwegian accent. He shoved Mad Dog, sending the skinny ferret almost spiraling into the water..

"I don't want to."

"Den we'll go together."

They sloshed through the water, advancing further into the dark cave. The beams of their flashlights bounced off of the damp, mossy walls. A watermark about five feet up the wall indicated where the water level was during high tide.

"Why does Captain Karnage have to have a snake?" Mad Dog's voice echoed.

"Because it's part of his plan to invade Cape Suzette, dum-dum. It's a very rare snake. The captain had to go all de way to Oldfoundland to find it." Dumptruck placed his flashlight on a ledge and set down three five-gallon buckets full of fish that he had been carrying in one meaty fist.

"Who are you calling a dum-dum, dum-dum?" Mad Dog snapped back, irked. It had not been a good day for him. He had just experienced the worst flight of his life, carrying a heavy, awkward bucket of fish all the way into this cave was giving him hangnails, and now he had to feed a scary monster. "Here, big snakey. We got some yummy fishies for you."

Two large luminous eyes blinked in the total darkness. The eyes levitated until they were close to the ceiling.

Mad Dog leapt into Dumptruck's arms with a little "Eep!"

Dumptruck unceremoniously dumped Mad Dog into the water with a splash.

"Watch it! You'll scare it!" Mad Dog cautioned, vexed, scrambling to his feet.

A sea serpent, not a snake, approached them. As the creature propelled itself into the light with two flipper-like fins, its long, lithe body was apparent. It was aquamarine blue with narrow green stripes running the length of its body. The scales were iridescent and reflected the light of the air pirates' flashlights. The sea serpent's head resembled that of a sea horse. Its eyes, fringed with long black lashes, were a pale yellow. A purple cockscomb bristled on the top of its head, running down its back to disappear halfway down its slender, elongated neck. Smelling the fish, it sniffed appreciatively at the air with its two great nostrils, and it had two rows of sharp teeth that showed when it opened its mouth to lick its lips. Mad Dog and Dumptruck were afraid of the 'snake' in general, but were especially afraid of those gleaming, deadly teeth. They wouldn't have been so scared if they knew that the sea monster only hungered after fish.

It made a clinking/rattling sound when it paddled towards them, because the sea serpent was secured to the cavern walls by a thick chain ending in a manacle around its long neck. When the serpent reached the end of that long chain, she (for it was a female) made an eerie wailing noise - a cross between a dog whimper and a whale cry.

From her vantage near the cave's ceiling, she stared down at the tiny pirates with mournful eyes. Eyes that pled silently to be set free. Since she had been captured a month ago, these two pirates were the only company that she had, but they only came twice a day and only stayed as long as they had to. But loneliness was preferable to when Don Karnage came to train her to do his evil bidding. She hated training. When she didn't do exactly as Karnage wanted, his cruel whip stung sharply.

"Here you go, snakey." Mad Dog waved a wiggly fish before tossing it at the sea monster's open mouth.

They tossed one bucketful of fish at the sea serpent. Then, because they were lazy and wanted to leave, the other three buckets were emptied into the seawater at their feet. The sea monster noisily slurped up the fish with her large, pink tongue.

"Dere, dat's done," Dumptruck said, picking up the empty pails.

"Good thing. Maybe we can get Gibber or Hal or Hacksaw or Sadie or Uncle Floyd or Scottie or anybody besides us to feed it tomorrow," Mad Dog's nasal voice echoed through the cavern as he and Dumptruck retreated as fast as they could.

"Yeah, it's dere turn. It's no fair dat the captain always makes us feed der snakey."

The sea serpent returned to her lonely 'bed' in the corner of the dusky cavern. She coiled her tail about her and gazed wistfully out of the cave to where the sun's bright light rode on the waves. Out there was where she belonged. Out there was freedom. She bit at the thick chain, but when it didn't break, she let out a sorrowful whimper. She sadly laid her head on her back and closed her eyes. One solitary, glistening tear escaped from beneath her eyelid to drop into the water, causing ever-expanding ripples to form.

Friday Evening

High above Cape Suzette glittering stars were just beginning to emerge in the deepening twilight. Likewise, with the setting of the sun, the electric lights of Cape Suzette were emerging. The multitudes of lights enveloped the city - winding down after a busy day - in a soft, halo-like luminescence.

It was darkest down by the docks where there were the least amount of houses. However, the windows of one building on the edge of the harbor emitted a cozy glow.

The Higher for Hire crew was gathered about the circular table in the plainly furnished kitchen. All wore festive party hats. Kit and Molly blew their noisemakers at each other, giggling between blasts. Higher for Hire's ace mechanic Wildcat, a smallish tan lion dressed in faded blue overalls and an orange visor, was studying his noisemaker. The mechanic, who could assemble a broken telephone in ten seconds flat, scratched his brown mane; he was perplexed, because he couldn't quite figure out how the noisemaker worked. Baloo sat quietly, absently twirling his noisemaker between his fingers; for once in his life, he wasn't in a partying mood. Buzz's disappearance weighed heavily on his mind.

Kit softly blew his noisemaker in Baloo's ear. "C'mon, Papa Bear, cheer up. We'll find Buzz."

"Yeah, but when and where, Kiddo?"

After placing a stack of bowls on the table, Rebecca rapped her knuckles against the table top. Everyone's attention turned towards her. "In honor of Higher for Hire's first anniversary, I am pleased to announce that the party is about to begin."

"Whoo-hoo!" Molly whooped, brandishing her spoon. She had been looking forward to cake and ice cream all day.

"But first, as manager of Higher for Hire, I would like to say a few words."

"Aw..." Molly slumped in her chair, disappointed.

Eyes sparkling, Rebecca gushed like an excited schoolgirl, "I can't believe Higher for Hire made it through one whole year! And Higher for Hire just didn't survive, we actually turned a profit. A miracle despite the fact that Baloo lost some cargoes, like that very, very profitable Fandango Mango account, which I'm still not happy about."

Baloo's noisemaker just happened to accidentally fly towards Rebecca.

Dodging the noisemaker, Rebecca continued, "Honestly, some days, I thought this business would never make it this far with the poor economy, various setbacks...

"Long-winded bosses," Baloo murmured derisively. Unprofessionally, Rebecca stuck her tongue out at her pilot, inciting a little giggle from Molly.

"Furthermore, I wanted to tell you what a joy it's been - for the most part," she shot a pointed glance at her pilot, "working with you. All of you have made this year very special for me, and I hope it's been just as special for you."

Before Baloo could open his mouth to make another derogatory comment, Rebecca hurried on with, "And not just because of the money. Without you and your hard work..." she broke off, chortling to herself. "Hard work and Baloo in the same sentence? I never thought the day would come!"

Baloo scowled at her, drumming his fingers on the table. "Get on with it, Becky."

Rebecca gazed around the table at the little group. Her affectionate smile fell on each one of them. They were not only her employees; they were her friends, her family. She concluded, "Without all of you, this anniversary would not have been possible. Thank you." She lit five candles on the cake and flipped off the lights.

"Make a wish," Wildcat suggested.

Kit chuckled, "This isn't a birthday cake, Wildcat."

In his usual innocent way, Wildcat said, "It isn't? But I thought it was Higher for Hire's first birthday."

"Yeah!" Molly agreed, nodding her head so that the pompom on her hat bobbed up and down. "We need to make wishes."

Rebecca squeezed her daughter's shoulder. "Go ahead and make a wish if you want to, Pumpkin."

"Happy birthday to you," Wildcat warbled, slightly off key. One by one they all joined in the song. "Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, Higher for Hire. Happy birthday to you."

"And many, many more!" Rebecca sang.

They all took deep breaths and blew out their respective candles. Rebecca cut the chocolate cake into lavishly large slices while Kit scooped up vanilla ice cream. The cubs and Wildcat delved into the sweet treats.

With his fork, Baloo skewered some cake, looked at it, uninterested, and set it back on his plate with a sigh.

"I told you not to eat so many donuts, Baloo," Rebecca admonished. She shot a grin of self-satisfaction over at her pilot. She loved it when she was right.

Baloo sighed again, his chin propped in one hand.. He mechanically mashed his cake into a flat pancake with his fork. "It ain't that, Beckers. I'm worried 'bout Buzz."

"Well, you said he was an eccentric." Rebecca placed a gentle, comforting paw on his arm. "Maybe he decided to go somewhere that he normally doesn't go on the spur of the moment."

Baloo shook his head, stared at his bowl for a moment, then rose from the table.

"Where are you going, Baloo?" Rebecca asked, concerned.

"To look for Buzz. People don't just disappear inta thin air." He tore the party hat from his head and tossed it on the table.

Kit dropped his spoon, his dessert half eaten, and ran after him. "Wait up, Baloo!"

Rebecca, with the unspoken words, "Be careful," on her lips, stared at Baloo's flat piece of cake with a thoughtful expression. She had suddenly lost her appetite.

Across Town

Trader Moe, a diminutive, shrewd-looking alligator, was flanked by his two goons - a burly ape and hulking rhino - in a booth located in a poorly lit, shabby bar popular with shady characters. The bar, located down by the wharves, was a good place to procure valuable information - illegal, underground information. Seated at the table across from the mismatched trio was Don Karnage. His face was concealed by a black hood so that only the tip of his nose showed.

"Do we have a deal?" rasped Karnage in an attempt to disguise his voice.

"I dunno. I don't do anythings widout a trade. Gimme one good reason to do your dirty work for yas," Trader Moe said, a suspicious gleam in his beady eyes. He didn't trust this hood in a hood, but, then again, he didn't trust anybody.

"Yeah, why do we gotta do your dirty work?" parroted Rhino Goon in a deep bass voice.

"Definitely not clean," added Ape Goon in his ominous, yet imbecilic, speech.

Don Karnage wasn't phased - much - by Trader Moe's dumb, behemoth sidekicks, even though it looked like they could tear him limb from limb with their bare hands. He withdrew a small bag of gold from his cloak pocket and tossed it on the table.

"Not good enough. Try again." Trader Moe snapped his fingers, signaling for the goons to point their handguns right at Karnage's head.

"Hee-hee," Karnage chuckled nervously. He placed a second, bigger, bag of gold on the table. "Two bags of gold?"

"Ventilate him, boys," Trader Moe ordered.

"Wait! Wait!" Karnage drew - of all things - ten clamshells out of his pocket and lined them up on the table.

Nearly salivating, Trader Moe snatched them up greedily. "Start talkin'."

"Let me say this now. The welcome - it is not for me in Cape Suzette, especially that part of Cape Suzette."

"But yer here now!" Trader Moe cried in surprise.

"Now you see me, now you don't," Karnage hissed cryptically. He shot an apprehensive glance around the bar. He didn't want one of these bounty-hunters to get wind of his true identity. "Listen up with the ears, sharp-toothed one. I have a hyposthetical question. If I were to perhaps get my fingers on a certain type of doohickey, could you perform the installation for me?"

"What kind of doohickey?" Trader Moe inquired, leaning over the table.

The goons leaned closer at the same time, and they all three bumped heads.

"Ow! You pea brains!" Trader Moe smacked the goons on the snout with his floppy, brown hat.

Don Karnage chuckled in his throat. Here was a man who treated his lackeys like he did. A man after his own black heart. As much as he would have liked to watch their antics, he wanted to get on with it, get it over with, and get out of there. He became instantly serious. "A wonderfully sneaky doohickey. I need to get rid of a certain party favor, you see. Si?"

"Party favor?" Trader Moe repeated, confused by Karnage's verbiage.

"We're goin' to a party?" Rhino Goon asked. He seemed pleased. A goofy grin lit up his heavy features.

"Goody!" Ape Goon clapped his huge hands, nearly hitting Trader Moe in the face. "I like parties with cake and punch."

"If you twos don't shut yer yaps, I'll give ya punch," Trader Moe threatened. He pinned Ape Goon's hands down to the table.

"No! Not a party!" Karnage growled savagely. Trader Moe and the nincompoop goons' senseless banter was beginning to grate on his nerves. He choked out in his own accented voice, breathing heavily with rage, "I...need...to...keell...an...annoying...meeserable...pilot! Do...you...hear...me, you eediots!"

Everyone's eyes in the establishment turned towards their table. Every single thug produced a gun or a knife or both.

"I guess you did hear me. Only kidding," Karnage backpedaled tensely. He tugged the cloak further over his face. "It is a funny joke, yes-no? Do you not get the punch-out line? Keell a pilot? Ha...ha?"

Everyone, bored or baffled, returned to their own business and returned their weapons to their holsters.

When he was sure that no one was eavesdropping, Karnage hissed, "I want you to put this," he slipped a black, innocuous-looking box the size of a pocket watch on the table, "under the control panel of the Sea Duck by tomorrow."

Trader Moe said slowly, "Wait a minute. Ain't dat da plane dat belongs to Baloo?"

"To Baloo?" Rhino Goon said.

"Ain't Baloo a color?" Ape Goon wondered, scratching his head. "Is dat the color of the plane?"

"Yes! It's Bahloo's plane!" Karnage snarled through clenched teeth; he pounded his fists on the table. He was on the verge of blowing his top. This was taking three times longer than he had planned. "Don't ever say that pesky pilot's name in my hearing again! I hate him! I loathe him! I despise him with a passion fruit!"

"Dat makes two of us," said Trader Moe.

"Ain't dere three of us?" Ape Goon asked, looking at his fingers in confusion.

Trader Moe decided to ignore that comment. "Baloo's gotten in my way too many times. What does this thing do?" Trader Moe inquired, turning the shiny black object over in his hands. On the top side was a green dome-shaped light.

"Let's just say it will make that estupid pilot easier to control. Make sure you do what I say, or I'll turn you, Trader Moe, into a pair of boots for my footsies!" With an ominous chuckle and a swish of his black cape, Don Karnage disappeared into the night.

Higher for Hire
11:00 PM

Yawning, Rebecca poured herself another cup of coffee and meandered from the kitchen to the office. It was late and she was tired, but she simply couldn't go home to her apartment until she was certain that Baloo and Kit had returned safely. That hopeless look of desperation that Baloo had worn when he left the party had made her uneasy. She'd only seen that expression on the normally jovial bear's face twice before: once when he thought that Kit had betrayed them to the air pirates, another time when Kit had run away to join Daring Dan's air circus. She didn't personally know Buzz, but, because Baloo was so concerned about his whereabouts, she suspected that he was someone who meant a lot to her pilot.

The bearess sat down at her desk, setting the cup down at her elbow. She uninterestedly thumbed through a pile of invoices, laid them down, and took a sip of coffee, glancing over the cup's rim at Molly. The little girl was sound asleep in the easy chair. A red blanket, her DangerWoman cape, was wrapped around her. Molly had made a valiant attempt to stay awake until Baloo and Kit had returned. After Wildcat had left, she had begged her mother to read her favorite story - Gladys and the Gorilla - to her, and to her raptured delight, Rebecca had complied. It was a rare moment when Rebecca devoted time to play with her daughter. Molly had listened to the story, a story that she could repeat verbatim, before the seven-year-old, her tummy full of cake and ice cream, nodded off on Rebecca's lap.

Crossing the room, Rebecca gently tucked a pillow under Molly's golden head. She tenderly smoothed Molly's hair and caressed the little girl's cheek, causing Molly to wrinkle up her nose. The bearess glanced at the grandfather clock ticking the seconds steadily away in the entryway. Five minutes until eleven o'clock. Would they never get home? It seemed as if she had been waiting an eternity.

In the space of a minute, Rebecca's emotions ran the gamut from peeved - How dare they make me wait up for them this long? To angry - If that bear ever pulls this stunt again, he's fired! To worried - What's taking them so long? I hope they didn't run into any trouble.

Just as soon as she was about to radio them, she heard the well-known clamor of the Sea Duck's engines as the seaplane splashed down for a landing, a sound that made her pulse quicken every time she heard it. It betokened adventure, excitement, not to mention a certain bear who piloted the plane... Exhaling an enormous sigh of relief, Rebecca established herself behind her desk, the epitome of nonchalance. When her pilot and navigator entered, she inquired with a tired smile, "Any luck?"

Baloo gathered sleeping Molly in his arms. He dropped into the chair only to spring up with a yelp. From underneath the pillow, he fished a colander - Molly's DangerWoman helmet - and placed it on the crate beside the chair. The big bear once again settled into the chair with the little girl on his lap. Molly smiled in her sleep, nuzzling her cheek against Baloo's chest. "Nope, nuthin', Beckers, not a trace," he sighed. He cuddled Molly close to him.

"And we went everywhere," Kit added, perching on the chair's arm, leaning his weary head against his Papa Bear's shoulder. Baloo draped his arm around him.

Rebecca's heart melted as it always did when Baloo exhibited paternal tendencies towards her daughter and Kit, but Baloo didn't notice the loving smile that she briefly bestowed upon him. Remembering herself, remembering that Baloo was her employee, remembering what the manual said about keeping employer/employee relationships strictly platonic, she bent her head over her desk under the pretense of being hard at work.

It was becoming more difficult to conceal her feelings for Baloo, feelings that dated back to that first night she and Molly had spent at Higher for Hire. Exactly one year ago when Baloo had played with the cubs, Rebecca had discovered, to her wonderment, a big-hearted bear under that sloppy, careless, and rude exterior. With that discovery a seed had been planted in her heart, which had gradually flourished and then bloomed into love.

Peeking up through her eyelashes at the little group, Rebecca longed to comfort Baloo, to rush to his side and throw her arms around him, to do something to alleviate the discouragement that showed so plainly on his face. The one thing that held her back was that her heart had been broken too many times by con artists and ghostly men - men who weren't what they seemed. Consequently, she wasn't going to give Baloo any indication that she cared for him until she was one hundred percent positive that he loved her, too. Even so, it took every ounce of her self-control not to perch on the other oh, so inviting arm of that chair.

Baloo yawned a yawn that should have dislocated his jaw. He waited for the inevitable tirade from Rebecca about wasting time on wild goose chases, about wasting precious fuel, and, therefore, money, but it didn't come. She continued to half-heartedly jot down figures in a ledger. He watched his boss for a while, admiring the subtle interplay of shadow and light that the lamp threw over her attractive, delicate features, before remarking with seeming unconcern, "So, Becky..."

Without looking up, she said, "Yes, Baloo?"

"Ya waited up for us?"

That question caught the businesswoman off guard. It was the truth, and they all knew it even though she never would have admitted it, not in a million years. Her cheeks turned ten shades of pink as she stammered out, "Not exactly...I...I just had some...work...to catch up on, and..." her glance strayed across the room to her pilot; a trace of the love that she tried so hard to suppress was visible in her eyes; "you know, Baloo."

"Yeah, Rebecca...I know," Baloo murmured softly, grinning foolishly in response to Rebecca's shy, blushing smile. They were unable to tear their eyes away from each other.

Kit witnessed the silent exchange between the two adults with bated breath. He could almost feel the electricity crackling in the air. The family that this orphan had dreamed of all his life seemed like it could become a reality very, very soon. Something inside of him shouted exultantly, but then the magical moment was broken by...

"It's getting late," Rebecca said matter-of-factly, packing papers into her briefcase. "I need to get Molly to bed, and you boys should get some sleep, too. Remember, you have that early morning delivery of turnip peelers to Thembria."

Kit grimaced, but nodded his acquiesce. A cargo run to Thembria was no picnic with the mountain of forms/paperwork that one had to fill out upon arrival. And then there were the forms that had to be filled out if a screwy Thembrian law was accidently broken. The fluid laws varied by the minute according to the High Marshall's whims.

Through a yawn, Baloo said what Kit was thinking. "Don't know why Thembrians need turnip peelers at seven-thirty in the A.M."

"Because that's when the Ministry of Kitchen Utensils scheduled you in," Rebecca answered. When Baloo carefully handed Molly to her, his hand brushed up against Rebecca's. The bearess planted a kiss on her daughter's forehead to hide the blush she felt on her cheeks. Rebecca headed for the door with slumbering Molly cradled against one shoulder and her briefcase in the other hand.. "See you boys bright and early."

Kit rushed to the door to open it. He was rewarded with a "Thank you, sweetie," and a quick peck on the cheek, his first kiss from Rebecca. It gave him a thrill, something akin to when he cloud-surfed.

In the doorway Rebecca paused for a second. She turned to Baloo to remind him of something pertaining to the next day's shipment, but when her eyes met his, she once again reddened prettily with confused embarrassment. She couldn't remember what she was going to tell him. The bearess, who was usually glib of tongue, mumbled an almost incoherent, "Um...goodnight, Baloo, Kit," as she swiftly left.

"Night, Beckers."

"Bye, Miz Cunningham."

Kit shut the door and crossed to the room to once again perch on the arm of the chair next to Baloo. With a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, he hinted casually, "Molly's lucky."

"How's that, Kid?" asked an unsuspecting Baloo, stretching out in the chair.

Kit tapped at the little bump in the bottom of Baloo's shirt pocket. "I think Rebecca would be a great mom." He knew exactly what Baloo had been carrying around for the past month. In fact, he had caught the big bear staring at it one day last week.

"You do, huh?" Baloo pulled Kit onto his lap and tickled him mercilessly until the boy begged, tears streaming down his cheeks, for him to stop.

"Scoot to bed, L'il Britches." Baloo playfully cuffed Kit on the chin. "I'll be up in a bit. Gonna get some air."

Kit hugged Baloo before sliding off his lap. "Night, Papa Bear." An excruciatingly glad boy ran up the stairs two at a time. Barring their failed search for Buzz, it had been a wonderful day. Rebecca's kiss had been the icing on the cake.

Baloo wandered out into the starry night and plopped into his hammock slung under the Sea Duck's wing. Now that the sun had gone down it was chilly, but Baloo didn't notice the cool temperatures. He was concerned about another matter, and it wasn't Buzz's whereabouts. From his shirt pocket, Baloo extracted a small box. He opened it. A dazzling sparkle shimmered against the black velvet as if a fragment of Cleanser's Comet had fallen from the sky and landed there. The diamond wasn't as big as he would have liked, but it was the best that he, a poor cargo pilot with a penchant for spending money as fast as he earned it, could afford.

Baloo wasn't sure when Rebecca became more than just his boss; it had happened so gradually over the course of the year. Now, he couldn't imagine life without her and Molly, and he didn't want to ever have to imagine life without them. He had realized that in a breathtaking moment last month.

On an ordinary day, during perfectly ordinary circumstances - when she was giving him instructions about a delivery no less - he had simply looked into Rebecca's brown eyes and knew that he loved her. It had completely thrown him for a loop. He was so discombobulated by his discovery that he got all of the deliveries mixed up for the rest of the week, but he hadn't minded the justifiable scoldings afterward. Baloo closed the lid with a sigh before carefully returning it to his pocket. "Whattaya offer a gal who owns everythin' ya have?" he inquired of the night. "Includin' yer heart." He folded his arms behind his head and listlessly gazed at the moon rising over the city.

Higher for Hire
Midnight

One hour later, Higher for Hire was wrapped up in sleep. All was still except for the waves lapping against the docks, the steady, sleepy clanging of the harbor buoy, the windsock flapping in the cool night breeze, and three suspicious characters skulking around the corner of the building.

"Dere's da plane," Trader Moe whispered, gesturing to the Sea Duck's large, shadowy form bobbing in the water.

They slunk over to the seaplane. Upon opening the cockpit door, they were greeted by a loud noise, almost as if someone was using a chainsaw nearby.

"Hey, boss! Look what we found!" Rhino and Ape Goon proclaimed in chorus. Both pointed down at Baloo, who was slumbering soundly in his hammock slung under the plane's wing.

Trader Moe slapped a small paw over each of the goon's mouths. "Shhhh! Don't wake him up, ya loudmouths! We gotta do dis quiet-like. But if he does wake up, sedate him."

"What's dat mean? Sedate?" Rhino Goon asked, scratching his head in confusion.

"Yeah, what mean, sedate?" repeated Ape Goon.

"Bonk him on da head, ya peach pits!" Trader Moe stepped into the cockpit, grumbling to himself irately, "I gotta get me some new goons!"

The alligator knelt on the floor to feel around under the control panel. He stuck the magnetized little black box far enough back where he thought no one would notice it. When he went to get up, he hit his head on the pilot's seat. His hand flew to his mouth to stifle his agonized cries of pain. He tiptoed out of the cockpit. "Dat's done. Let's trade our clams for moolah."

Rhino Goon said, "Where we's going, boss?"

Ape Goon echoed, "Yeah, like go where?"

"Moolah-Boolah! Where else can ya trade clams for loads-a cash?" Trader Moe, in his exasperated fury, slammed the cockpit's door. "Oops!"

They all stood frozen in their tracks - mid-step - staring at Baloo with terror in their eyes.

Baloo mumbled, "Extra mustard. Hold the onions," and turned over, resuming his snoring.

Trader Moe exhaled a sigh of relief. "Dat was close!"

"Yeah, too close," said Rhino Goon.

"Different from far away," added Ape Goon.

"Shaddup, ya big lug nuts! Sheesh," Trader Moe exclaimed in exasperation as he snuck down the dock with the two goons tromping after him, "I wonder if ten thousand smackers'll buy a coupla new goons."

End of part 1