Chapter IV: Back on the Case

Gadget yawned, and stretched, letting the sunlight slowly wake her up. Her mind was blurry with sleep for a moment, and she started to turn over. To her surprise, she felt a warm body lying next to her. The sensation was enough to shock her to full wakefulness.

Chip! She looked at the sleeping form. But what…?

Then it all came back, the wedding, the reception, Chip carrying her over the threshold, all of it. She laid back in bed and sighed, glancing over at her companion. They had been nervous about sharing a bed at first, both of them embarrassed to the extreme. But these feelings had fallen away after a few minutes.

She gently peeled back the covers, and eased out of bed, making her way down the hall to the bathroom. Looking at herself in the mirror, she shook her head.

'Girl, you are a mess,' she thought, taking in her blushing and breathless appearance. Once she had showered and dressed, she made her way back. Chip had not stirred yet, so she sat down on the bed behind him. Leaning over, she nuzzled the soft fur at the back of his neck.

"Good morning," she whispered. He opened one eye.

"I've been awake for a few minutes, hoping you'd do that."

"You are so bad," she chuckled, swatting him with her pillow.

"I know, but that's one of the things you love about me, I bet."
"How'd you guess?" she asked, kissing him lightly. "Come on, up and at it, mister! I'll be in the hangar, working on the Rangerwing."

"Sometimes I wish Fat Cat would just retire, so I could sleep in."

"Now you sound like Dale."

A hastily thrown pillow followed her out of the room.

About an hour later, Monterey Jack and the others returned, and found Gadget hard at work rebuilding the faster of their aircraft. She shook her head in amazement.

"Tammy, I'm not even going to ask how fast you made it go. This engine almost melted!"

"The last thing I remember was getting it up to sixty-eight."
"Wow…the overdrive unit worked better than I thought! I might have to rebuild it after all."

Monty slung his duffel bag over his shoulder.

"Well mates, wot say we grab us a bite o' grub, before we get back on the case?"
The universal response was to dash for the kitchen.

After a few minutes, the Australian mouse had pans sizzling, and the smell of hot food began filtering through the tree. Chip trotted into the kitchen a few minutes later. He pulled off his fedora and sat down next to Gadget at the table.

"How's the Wing coming?"
"Oh, it'll be after Christmas before it's back in commission, but its salvageable."

Just then, Sparky ran in, waving an article he'd torn from an unsuspecting park jogger's morning newspaper.

"Better eat fast, guys! We've got more trouble," he said, plunking the piece of paper down on the counter.

"MACY'S CHRISTMAS PARADE BALLOONS FOUND SLASHED," the headline screamed out.

"This is terrible," Gadget said in shock.

"Too roight," Monty rumbled, "I was gonna take Bink and some othah little dodgers to see that this yeah. That does it mates, we gotta track these blighters down!"

"Right," Chip said, "as soon as breakfast is over, we'll go to the warehouse where the balloons are kept, and scout the area for clues."

"Chip, this place gives me the creeps," Dale said later, as the Rangers strode through the empty warehouse.

"You watch those late night horror movies, and this place gives you the creeps?"

"Well, at least I know the movies can't hurt me."

"Yeah, but they can hurt your brain. Well, if you had one."
"Hey you take that back!"
"What, the fact that you're the biggest nut in our tree?"

"Why you…"

"Boys!" Gadget yelled, grabbing them both by the collar. "This is neither the place, nor the time. Dale, just try and cope. And you, mister," she said, gazing at Chip intently, "behave yourself, unless you want to sleep on the couch tonight."

Chip fell silent instantly.

"Croikey," Monty chuckled, "that little sheila sure learns fast!"

"All right, everybody," Gadget continued. "Spread out. Look for anything that might point to Fat Cat."

The group separated, heading to different corners of the building. Chip and Gadget searched through the west side of the warehouse, while Monterey and Dale searched the east, with Zipper on lookout. They looked for clues for the better part of the morning, high and low, and in every nook and cranny.

"This is the hard thing about bein' a Ranger," Dale commented, "the footwork!"

"Heads up, pallies!" Monty shouted. "Over 'ere!"

The Rangers regrouped, following the sound of Monterey Jack's voice.

"What did you find?" Chip asked, running up with Gadget in tow.

"Dunno, mate. But it sure doesn't look normal."

A long track cut through the dust in one corner. It ended just below a window on the south side of the building. Gadget knelt down and looked closely.

"Guys, this is a tail track! But mice don't have tails this big, it must have been a rat!"
"Snout," Chip said, smacking his fist into his palm. "It was Fat Cat's gang all right."
"Now, Chippah," Monty said. "Don't jump to conclusions! It coulda been an average rat, just passin' through."

Dale looked down, and picked up a piece of red cloth, that looked like it had come from a shirt collar.

"An average rat who wears a red turtleneck?" he asked.

Gadget examined the cloth.
"It came from a turtleneck sweater all right. And from the filthiness of it, I'd make a safe bet that it's Snout's after all."

She looked at the material a little closer, then sniffed it tentatively.

"This is the aroma of a certain kind of fish," she said. "If I can test and identify it, then we'll know where at the waterfront to look for Fat Cat's new hideout."

"Good work, luv," Monty grinned, and tapped her lightly on the nose. "Good thing your equipment's workin' a bit better than mine!"

As the group headed back to the Rangermobile, Gadget stopped, and cocked her head to one side. Chip noticed immediately.

"What is it, honey?" he whispered.

"Voices. Over there, third heating vent, south wall." Chip looked impressed.

"You're good."
"Thank you."

He motioned for the others to follow, and they went to all fours, creeping along the wall until they reached the vent. Inside, they could hear several speakers very clearly.

"Did those ridiculous rodents find anything?"
"Not a thing, Boss, except that piece of my shirt that got tore off."

"Idiot! Anything is a clue to that bunch of do-gooders!"

"Fat Cat," Gadget hissed to the others.

"Strike me starkers," Monty whispered. "'E must 'ave been heah the whole time!"

"Most likely," she replied, "which means there's something he doesn't want us to find."
Engaged in this quiet conversation, the Rangers didn't hear the footsteps behind them, until Wart and Mepps had already tumbled them all into a sack.

"Fat Cat will be most pleased," Wart said happily.

A short time later, all of the Rangers found themselves bounced around like popcorn in a popper as the sack was dumped unceremoniously into a small, metal cage. Above them, Fat Cat stood smiling.

"Hello, my little friends. Out doing a little…investigating, were we?"

"You might say that," Chip said with a forced grin. "We're just trying to find out what Santa Claus ever did to you."

The chipmunk wasn't prepared for the open handed blow which rattled the cage.

"Silence!" Fat Cat roared. "You have no idea of the difficulties I have been caused by this…holiday, in the past. I intend to see an end put to it!"

A low chuckle escaped from the cage. Upon inspection, Chip was a bit frightened to notice it came from Gadget. His wife was laughing at a crimelord was about to make them into lunchmeat. She looked out through the bars.

"You think you can actually stop Christmas, by robbing toy stores and stealing a mega-sized tree? You're dreaming, buddy. All you've done is made life lousy for a lot of people. Nothing can stop this holiday from coming."

Fat Cat looked impatient.

"Pardon me if I give it my best shot, my dear. And I don't need you little pests meddling in my fun. So I'm delighted to be able to deal with you now, at an earlier opportunity than I thought possible."

Gadget gave him a bemused expression.

"So what do you have in mind this time? Medieval torture chamber? Cat food packaging machine?"

Fat Cat's face turned an unnaturally dark shade, indicating his extreme fury.

"I was thinking of something simpler," he growled. "Like giving you a free honeymoon trip. By air!" He picked the cage up, and walked over to a nearby sliding windowpane. Opening the cage door, he pulled all of the Rangers out by their tails. "Have a nice flight."
Their screams echoed off of the buildings as he dropped them. Monty was the first to notice their altitude.

"We're about thirty stories up, mates!"

"There's no way we're gonna live through this," Dale groaned.

A loud buzzing noise snapped them all back to reality. From around the corner of the building, something that looked much like the Rangerwing…but not, came flying into existence.

"Gadget, did you…"
"No, I haven't had time to rebuild it yet!"

As they dropped, the plane swooped underneath them, and the previously doomed Rangers dropped into its back seat.

From the pilot's seat, Tammy grinned back at them through a familiar pair of goggles.

"How do you guys like it? I've been building it in my spare time."

"Saved our tails, so it suits me just fine, luv," Monty said.

Gadget looked all around the craft. The front mounted propellers were a difference, with the addition of a tail rudder and operable flaps.

"You made a lot of improvements," she said with a smile. "I taught you pretty well, it looks like."
"Well I trashed the last one, so I thought I should at least build a replacement."

"Well," Chip mused, "we made some headway on the case, even if we did almost get killed in the process. At least we know now that Fat Cat has some personal vendetta against Christmas. Why, I have no clue, but the nature of his problem will finally cause him to make a mistake. All criminals eventually do, when they make it personal."

He looked around the plane, suddenly trying to take in where he'd seen some of it's elements before. The picture finally clicked.

"Hey, this plane reminds me of the Screaming Eagle! Even down to the guns," he said, indicating the plunger cannons on the wings.

Gadget had been so glad to escape an impact with the pavement that she hadn't noticed this fact. But the more she looked around, the more she saw her father's plane.

"Where did you learn how to build it this way?" she asked Tammy. The squirrel shrugged.

"I found some old blueprints in your workshop, stashed way back in the bottom of the bookshelf. They looked pretty cool, so I took the best designs from them. Neat, huh?"
Gadget was uneasy. The Screaming Eagle had been her father's pride and joy, and she was the one that had wrecked it. She didn't know how she felt about having someone else reconstruct it, even if it was only partly in appearance. Tammy looked back and noticed the apparent uncertainty.

"Gadge, I'm sorry if I did wrong by getting out those blueprints. Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine. Its just, what with the season and all, I miss Dad…"

Chip put his arm around his wife, and kissed her softly on the cheek.

"It's okay, Gadget. We all have people we miss this time of year. Believe me, I know."

"Thanks. And besides, once I correct some of the structural flaws Tammy made building this plane, and some other improvements I've already got in mind, I think it'd make a great addition to our arsenal!"

Tammy beamed.

"So you like it?"

Gadget considered the vehicle for a moment.

"I really do. Sorry about the initial reaction, it was just kind of a shock."

She looked out at the wings, where the plunger cannons protruded proudly.

"Y'know, the plungers are getting a bit overdone…maybe I should install guns that shoot glue balls, like my invention at Redwall."

"Uh oh," Dale said in a low voice, "she's got an invention-attack coming on."

Gadget's bouts of technical immersion were nearly as famous as Monterey Jack's cheese attacks. She would sometimes be oblivious for days at a time, as she worked on a new invention, or tried to repair a malfunctioning one.

"Well, one thing's for sure," Chip mused. "We've got to stop Fat Cat. But he's already taken a shot at most of the city's Christmas traditions. What's left?"

"The downtown caroling," Tammy groaned. All of the others immediately realized that she had to be right.

"It's the only thing he hasn't targeted yet," Gadget said. "But people could be hurt this time. How long do we have till the concert night?"

Tammy reached into the dash panel, and pulled out a squirrel-sized copy of the city entertainment news.

"We've got two days."

A pall hung over the plane. Everyone knew that something had pushed Fat Cat to the limits of even feline reason.

"All right," Gadget broke the silence. "So we've got two days. I say we use them. Let's get back to headquarters, I've got some ideas that need to be worked out."