Chapter 11
Adventures in Alpacito
The storm had waned in the late morning, and by noon was gone. Lingering gray clouds parted and allowed beams of sunshine to touch rain-lashed soil.
In the old storehouse, Kit stared at the drips leaking from the ceiling, wondering where he was and how he got there. All he could tell was that it must not had been a very pleasant trip, judging how his forehead throbbed and chest ached. He was alone, though the door was wide open.
He was about to call for Karnage, but began to cough, and he had a difficult time stopping. His head was dizzy and he felt like he could sleep for hours on end yet. He lightly caressed his brow and cringed at the sting of the gash there.
Eventually he padded through the cold water on the floor and squinted in the sunlight when he stepped outside. Don Karnage sat yawning on the remains of a thick stone fence that bordered the front of the estate. He looked out toward the coast, and did not acknowledge Kit as he approached.
"What happened?" asked Kit.
Karnage only grimaced and hunched over a little further.
Kit waited for him to speak, or at least glance at him, but the pirate did neither. "Hey, can't you hear me? What's wrong?"
"What's wrong," Karnage scoffed. "You are what's wrong."
"I don't even know what happened!" argued Kit.
"And you never will," growled Karnage.
Kit pondered him for a moment, but at length the temperamental reply was all the explanation he was going to get. He sighed and walked away, trying to piece it all together himself; he only remembered falling into the river, Karnage warning him about it just beforehand, and the last thing he saw, bobbing in the throws of the stormy current, those big rocks... After that it dawned on him rather easily, though with not the least bit of pride, why he was there and the loot was not.
Embarrassed and fidgeting with his fingers, Kit hesitated to say some means of thanks, but somehow he just could not. He had a visceral twinge that he owed a debt he would not live down anytime soon. Karnage was silent and statue-like, and Kit figured he would just leave him alone for awhile.
"How well can you walk?" Karnage asked suddenly.
"Uh... fine," replied Kit quietly. He walked back to the fence, a bit unsteadily still as he tried to shake off the grogginess. "I'm ready to go whenever you are."
"And your head?"
"It's... a little sore," Kit said, lowering his eyes.
"You need it bandaged."
"Yeah, but I'll be okay for now. What's our next move?"
Karnage pointed for Kit to go around to the front of the fence. "Come look."
As Kit did, Karnage hopped down and stood behind him.
"It's a town!" Kit exclaimed. "We're almost out of here!"
"Take a good look," said Karnage, pointing over Kit's shoulder into the far distance.
Kit leaned forward, scanning the horizon carefully. There were many boats in the ocean. "At what?"
That was when Karnage wound his foot back and gave Kit a swift kick in the rear.
"Ow!" Kit backed away from him, rubbing his seat. "What was that for?"
"You never gave me a good reason!"
The town on the coast was divided by a quiet, two-lane highway, where every now and then a cargo-laden truck or touring automobile passed through on their way to Alpacito City. A clustered string of shoddy buildings bordered the highway on either side, and beyond them the beach was wrapped in rocky jetties with many fishing boats departing for the open sea.
Those tending their rickety homes gave many an inquisitive stare to the two strangers sweeping their feet through the town's outskirts. At the highway, Kit and Karnage stopped at a gas station; Kit went to the restroom to wash his face, while Karnage leaned around the corner of the building and studied their situation.
There was not an airplane to be seen, and Karnage found that vexing, for he had no intention to steal a boat and sail back to Pirate Island. However, he did spy two mud-splattered Alpacatan army patrol jeeps parked at a saloon across the street, and that was at least a little promising. The winding highway up the coast would take them straight to the big city.
"Forget that," said Kit, cringing as he came around the back of the building. "I've seen bull pens cleaner than what's in there!"
"Hush, boy," said Karnage, "I am thinking."
"Oh, so sorry," Kit drawled. An alluring scent captured his nose, and he began sniffing about, and he started salivating. He noted a diner next to the saloon, slightly hidden behind a few parked trucks. "Mmm, is that bacon?"
"Never mind that for now," Karnage said.
"Tell that to my stomach," sulked Kit. "What are you lookin' at, anyway?"
"You ever steal a car?"
"Um, no..."
"Well then," Karnage smirked. "You always remember your first!"
"Oh yeah, I'm gonna cherish these memories."
Karnage darted across the highway toward the jeeps. "This way!"
"Wait!" Kit ran after him, reaching for his coattail stub to slow him down. "They're gonna see us!"
Once at the lead jeep, Karnage slowed and casually looked around, particularly at the windows and swinging door of the saloon. No one was watching. Unexpectedly, but much to his delight, a rifle and several ammunition clips were carelessly left laying on the back seat. "Get in, boy," he hissed.
"Now wait a minute," Kit warned. "What if we can't get away? The last thing we need is a whole army on our ― hey!"
Karnage was not in the negotiating kind of mood. He promptly picked the boy up and dumped him head-first into the passenger seat. While Kit expelled livid grumbles and squirmed right-side up, Karnage reached for the rifle, but was startled when the saloon's doors swung open.
Richter had stepped outside, wiping his chin. Between him and Karnage, it was difficult to tell who was more shocked to see whom suddenly standing there.
"What, again?!" the pirate exclaimed. With no hesitation he aimed the rifle and began firing over Kit's head. "Start the car, boy!" he yelled. "Now!" At the moment, however, Kit was too busy yelping and keeping his ears covered.
Richter swore, dove sideways and dodged the incoming bullets. He took a roll on the ground, sprang to his knee, and lobbed a grenade.
With wide eyes Karnage watched the grenade fly right toward his nose; he dropped the rifle into the jeep and caught the grenade mid-air with both hands. At that, he raised it over his head like he had just won a trophy. "Ha! What do you think about that, you ― !"
"Grenade!" shouted Kit.
"Oh!" started Karnage. "I mean, I am knowing that!" With a great heave he threw it aimlessly away, across the highway, and all watched where it landed: between the service pumps of the gas station.
Karnage leapt into the jeep, which knocked Kit under the steering wheel. They both ducked and braced themselves. The explosion was bursting loud and hot. A ball of flame rolled far skyward, painting the sky red, and pieces of scrap metal rained rained over the highway.
When the roar of the blast faded, Kit and Karnage peered over the door of the jeep, awed at the destruction.
The gas station was gone, its pumps and the walls of its service shop blown to smithereens; the only thing left standing was the clerk, a lion who, charred black save for the whites of his dazed eyes, wondered what the heck had just happened.
"Look what you did," gasped Kit.
"Yes..." said Karnage thoughtfully. "And I tell you, after a week like this... it felt wonderful!"
Random gunshots began spewing from the saloon, and in a beat the Alpacatan soldiers were at the stoop, panicked and drunk, firing their pistols at anything that moved. Richter took quick cover behind the second jeep, and Karnage aimed his rifle from side to side at all of them.
"Boy! Get this fender-bending bucket of bolts moving!" he yelled.
"Me?!" Kit glanced anxiously across the meters on the dashboard. They were not quite like the things he knew from airplanes. "But I don't know how to...!" Any doubts he had were quickly brushed aside when as a bullet hit the windshield and shattered it. "Cripes!" he screamed. Taken the steering wheel with both hands, locking his fingers in a grip tight enough to strangle a rhino, he was about to figure out this driving business real quick.
With his foot raised he kicked at the ignition button on the dash again and again until the jeep's engine turned over. Then he slid off the seat, never taking his hands from the wheel, and pummeled one of the pedals with his heel. That was about the extent he ever learned about driving, and it wasn't doing him a lick of good.
"It's not moving!" he cried. "What do I do?!"
Karnage squeezed off a few more rounds to keep Richter at bay, and jerked the gear shift between the seats two notches forward. "Now go!"
Kit planted his foot down, but the engine remained idle. "Why isn't it working!"
"The other pedal, you dimwitted dingleberry!"
Seething at that, Kit jumped off the brake and stomped on the accelerator with both feet. He could not even see over the steering wheel, but he must have done something right: the engine howled and the tires screeched and peeled in place, kicking up thick black smoke and the stench of seared rubber. Karnage hugged onto the back of the seat and gulped... what did he just get himself into?
The jeep burst onto the highway at great speed, leaving dust and skid marks in its wake, and for all Karnage knew, his eyebrows had probably been left behind as well. He was flipped over into the back seat. "Wait, boy, bad idea!" he pleaded, lunging to grab hold of the steering wheel. "Stoooooop!"
With the shouting right in his ear, Kit panickedly jumped on the brake; the jeep came to a screeching halt and Karnage took a tumble into the broken windshield. He cupped his forehead and glowered at the boy. "Just to check, you are on my side, yes?"
Kit gave him a nasty look and stuck out his tongue.
"Watch it," warned Karnage. "And move over so I can...!" He suddenly saw, behind them, that Richter had hunched inside and commandeered the second jeep, and was speeding in their direction. "What are you stopping for?! Go go go!"
"Stop, go, stop, go," Kit fumed, and jumped on the accelerator again. "Make up your mind already!"
The jeep sped off, and Karnage turned to and fro, his ears flapping in the wind, juggling between shooting at Richter and sparing a hand to help steer. Most of his shots were wide misses, but some pelted Richter's jeep on the hood and front fender, enough to where Richter was forced to slow down, but it bought them little space. Richter was fast on their tail.
A horn was blaring from a distance, and it kept blaring, suddenly much louder and closer. Karnage glanced ahead, where the grill of a big truck was aimed for his nose. "Watch out, boy!" He pulled the steering wheel just in time to swerve out of the way.
"I can't see!" cried Kit, his voice cracking. He was rubbernecking for all he was worth.
"Stand up, just steer!" said Karnage. He did not turn away from or point the rifle at anything but Richter, but he leaned on the passenger seat on his left knee planted the back of his right heel on the accelerator.
Kit stood up on the seat and took the wheel like a captain taking the helm of a galleon, and once he could finally see over the dash, he wanted to see no more! The highway was about to take a winding right turn around a high cliff, and to its left was nothing but a lesser precipice that dropped straight into the sand dunes of the coast. The speedometer crept further to its limit. "Whoa, Captain, slow down! Slow down!"
"I said steer!" ordered Karnage. He was bent over the rifle, mustering a careful aim right between Richer's eyes as the jeeps drew closer together. All else he ignored of sight and sound, concentrating only on this one blessed shot to finally rid himself of the grizzly once and for all.
"Brakes! Brakes!" Kit shouted. The bend was imminent... the jeep zipped by several warning signs posted on the highway's shoulder, too fast to see what they read, but one was yellow, one was red, and one was black with a skull and crossbones. "We're gonna crash!"
"I have you now," Karnage muttered, with the reticle on the gun's muzzle over Richter's face. He squeezed the trigger... Richter suddenly whisked away from his sight. So did the road.
On the turn, Kit screamed and spun weaved the wheel erratically to keep from hitting the cliffs on the right, but the jeep whipped around in a fishtail and rolled off the highway, falling upside-down onto sand dunes below in a thick stretch of beachgrass.
In a moment Richter had pulled over and looked down upon the wreckage. The engine hissed and smoked, and the tires were still spinning. There was no sign of his bounty, though he knew they could not have had the time to flee.
He leapt onto the beach, bent low with his legs, and flipped the overturned jeep on its tires. There Kit was, lying still with his face in the sand. But where was Karnage? Richter scanned the waving beachgrass stalks, listening for the slightest snap of a twig.
Then he heard a sudden rustle... it was Kit, and the boy had the rifle pointed at his chest. Richter took a step back and kept his hands open and in front of him. "Nice, kid. Now what do you think you're gonna do with that?"
"Guess that depends on what you think you're gonna do," replied Kit.
"Put it down, brat, and I'll let you go. You're nothing to me."
"Y-you're not touchin' Karnage," said Kit. The muzzle of the rifle was shaking as were his hands, and beads of sweat dripped from his brow. "I'll shoot, I swear. Just go away!"
"Hard to make threats when you're too scared to live up to them, isn't it," Richter smirked. "You never shot a gun before, have you? Pirates never taught you?" He chuckled, and subtly stepped forward as he spoke. "Not much of a pirate, huh? That why you started hanging out with fatso instead? The poor little boy couldn't toughen up like the big guys?"
Kit's teeth were bared. "If you think you're faster than a bullet, then come one inch closer!"
Richter paused and frowned, then took a swipe for the rifle. Kit shut his eyes and pulled the trigger, and they both flinched. But the gun had only clicked, its last bullet already spent.
"That's your last mistake, kid!" Richter snatched the rifle by the muzzle and wound it back to clobber Kit with as a club, but Karnage charged from the tall grass and tackled the big bear's knee. It surprised Richter, but Karnage may as well have run his shoulder into the post of a street light; Richter barely budged. Immediately he cuffed the pirate squarely over his head, and Karnage's chin hit the ground like a rivet under a jackhammer.
"It ends here, rodent," the grizzly snarled. Throwing the rifle aside, he armed his machete, reached and held Karnage's head up by the ear, then held the long, razor-like blade for the pirate to see. Though seeing stars before his eyes, Karnage was fumbling for something about his coat pockets and tattered red sash.
Richter was suddenly pelted in the cheek by a stone. "Hey gruesome, over here!" shouted Kit. He threw another rock and waved his arms. "Why don't you come and get me?"
"Ha! Don't worry, you're turn's comin' right up." Richter pressed the machete under Karnage's throat, not taking his cold stare away from Kit. "But first, why don't see what it looks like when I do it to him."
From the back of his sash, Karnage pulled the hunting knife they took from the camp and slashed it against Richter's hand. The grizzly shouted, dropped the machete and Karange lunged at his legs, stabbing the hunting knife into Richter's thigh, right were the varan had scarred him.
"Awright!" cheered Kit. "Go Captain, go!"
Richter howled with pain, and Karnage tried to dart away from his grasp, but Richter was quick not to give up. He threw himself at Karnage and caught him by the ankle, and crawled over him with the knife stuck in his leg. "You pissant! Nothing's gonna save you from me!" he roared. His eyes were dark, red, and furious, and there were new veins throbbing over his brow. "You wanna see?!"
If for no other reason than just to prove he could, Richter defied the crippling pain in his thigh and pulled himself and Karnage up, and though he leg limped and wobbled as if it was about to buckle, he lifted Karnage over the grass and threw him high against the cliff wall, pinning his neck with his elbow and forearm. With a grunt, he plucked the knife from his thigh with the other hand. "I'm gonna rip your rotten guts out and feed 'em to you!"
Kit had quite too few options to buy Karange time, but he was not about to just stand there. He dug out his battered and crumpled airfoil from his sweater, wound it around like a olympic discus and hurled it, whacking Richter in the back of the head.
"Ow! Kid, I'm gonna enjoy stomping you in the ground!"
With all his strength, Karnage could not pry Richter's arm from his throat... but his legs were free, and while Richter had his eyes on Kit, far be it from any self-respecting pirate not to render a low blow when the opportunity was duly presented.
*thwup!*
Karnage kicked Richter swiftly between the legs, and it was effective, for Richter lost the wind in his lungs, went cross-eyed and hunched over, groaning, but still didn't let go. So...
*thwup!*
Karnage kicked him again. That time, Richter fell to his knees and doubled-over in a heap of agony.
"Here! Catch!" Kit tossed his airfoil over to Karnage, who took it and bashed it into Richter's nose, and the grizzly was finally toppled to the dirt, where he curled up on his side.
Panting and staggering, Karnage rubbed his neck. "That, my boy, is how you nail a numbskull on the noggin!"
"Awesome!" Kit ran to him with arms wide open, but stopped himself just shy of actually touching him. "I mean, I'm glad you're okay."
A smug grin brightened Karnage's ruffled countenance. "Hpmh. A cornered painter fights most fiercely when backed up into... into, ehrm... you know... oh, forget it." He handed Kit back his airfoil after trying to bend it with his fingers as to test its strength; whatever it was made out of, he wasn't unfamiliar with how it felt to be struck with it himself. "Here. It still breaks easy."
Richter was attempting to get up, coughing up a dust storm on the sand, but he was very slow, and had a difficult time just to straighten himself out. He did, however, reach for his machete.
"Where did the gun go?" asked Karnage.
"He threw it in the bushes," Kit replied. "But look, his car's still there on the road! Let's grab it before he gets up!"
Karnage nodded. "Get in," he said, but was quick to add, "Don't you touch a thing!"
A mechanical hum rolled from the sky, from over the ocean, and it was regarded like music to the ears of Kit and Karnage, wholeheartedly capturing their attention. It was a cargo seaplane, jutting down from the clouds, descending toward Alpacito. Its distinct three-propeller design was undoubtedly belonging to Shere Khan's fleet.
For the moment, they shared no words. Kit smiled, dreamily and enraptured, as if he had just seen his first plane and fallen in love with flying all over again. Karnage was smiling, too, toothily and nearly salivating. He was falling in love with the thought of stealing it.
They started off for the jeep, but, to Kit's puzzlement, Karnage turned around and approached Richter, creeping behind him within an arm's reach. He leaned on his knees and clucked his tongue sympathetically. "Aw, did the big bad bear get his piñatas broken?"
"I'm gonna kill you," coughed Richter. He wasn't going anywhere fast. "I'll hunt you down. If it's the last thing I ever do..."
"Rest assured, whenever you try, it will be," said Karange. He snorted and kicked sand at Richter's head, but as on cue, the instant his foot swiped the ground, the earth suddenly shook, and there was an echo of a great roar in the wind, deeper than thunder, and with a hard chill, Kit and Karnage recognized it as the fiery breath they had heard in Rhamastan. Far away into the jungle, where, even from the coast, mighty the broad summit of Mount Saren rose over the treeline, and there was smoke rising from it.
"You don't think...?" Kit began to ask.
"Just a volcano doing what it does," replied Karnage.
They did not speak of it further, but they did hurry all the more to the jeep and away down the highway.
Once the city of Alpacito was in sight, Kit and Karnage left the jeep off the side of the road and walked the rest of the way, lest any soldiers see the vehicle and get suspicious, such as those who where loitering at the city's threshold around an idling Thembrian tank.
"What's the deal with this place and their guns?" asked Kit; at Karnage's insistence, they trekked away from the highway and stole into the city through the impoverished shacks that spawled close to the border of the jungle, a sheer wall of trees.
"For me, in most likeliness," said Karnage.
"You mean you heisted here more than that one time?"
"Since when does it take more than once?"
Alpacito had no airfield nearby, and Karnage led the long walk toward the west edge of the city, toward the marina, the one place Khan's plane had to land. The city was in a mild uproar; while most people went on with their business, many clamored speculations over the jolts in the ground felt every now and then, and the hazy smoke spreading thinly in the sky over the jungle. Sentries had taken posts on the top of buildings, watching the distance with binoculars.
They crossed the boulevard that Kit recognized would further led to the museum downtown, and the thought did not escape him that, if he had made a different choice the night before, he would more than likely be in that museum, waiting for Baloo to come pick him up. Empty-handed though he would be, he would have been on his way home, safe, and not fearing an uncertainty of what all he was walking into by following Karnage.
Then he regarded the captain; he did not look back to see if Kit was following or not, just marched on as a soldier on a mission, pushing by those in his way, his strides slowed by weariness but long, purposeful and confident, like an old veteran at his game, free of the burden of fear or a second guess.
It was catching. In Karnage's shadow, it was becoming hard to worry about an ill twist fate might throw in their path next, and doubts faded with the memory of his old mentor, where, standing once by him, no achievement in the world seemed impossible. He did not know how just yet, but in his heart he sensed that the trove of golden trinkets in the mountains was as good as theirs.
Nearer to the marina, they soon meshed into a sea of people. The markets were in full swing, and a wide hub of tents and carts cluttered an open field in the heart of the city. The air was still, warm, and stank of briney salt water and freshly gutted fish. The people were noisy, solicitation loud and unabashed, musicians strumming guitars and blowing horns in hopes of filling their jars with donations, fresh mud sloshed abundantly from the street gutters, and if one was not careful to dodge, there was an ever-present danger of being elbowed by hagglers fighting over merchandise. Yet, there was not a tree or vine in sight, which in its own way for these two weary survivors was absolutely delightful.
They cut their way to a sidewalk on the fringes of the crowd, pressed against a line of old brownstone buildings housing such things as a dilapidated motel and pawn shop. Down that way a bit, Karnage began sniffing the air, and his ears perked up; amidst all the foul odors around them, something pleasant lured his appetite. It was coming from a delicatessen store on the corner of the block, and he followed his nose.
"Chorizo," he said, smacking his lips. He waited a beat for Kit to catch up beside him. "You said you were hungry, yes?"
"Starving's more like it," said Kit, catching a whiff of the same aroma.
"You know what you must do, then," said Karnage, as they peered into the store's big, grimy window; they saw the counter and shelves packed with meats, cheeses and loaves of bread, and sandwiches stacked on a plate by the register... and two Alpacatan soldiers sat at a small table in the front, having lunch.
"You mean swipe something? I'm not going in there!" said Kit. "Don't you see those guards?"
Karnage shushed him and took him by the shoulder away from the window. "No no, boy, what do I tell you, when you steal, steal smart," he said, rubbing his thumb and fingertips together. "Get money, pay for it. Look for a bozo to bamboozle!"
Kit sighed. "Already thought of that. I think I'll just be hungry for awhile." However, the empty pang in his tummy was in fierce protest of the notion. "Darn it..."
"We need to eat! No reason we should have to wait. You are good at this, remember? The thrill of the hunt, yes-no? Stay low, and watch for the gun-totting goons." While Karnage scouted around for likely prospects, Kit fell behind, and was obviously wrestling with his thoughts. "What now?"
"Hold on a minute," Kit said. "Hungry and stealing on the street isn't exactly where I want to be again."
"Yes, yes, get over it," was Karnage's advice. His eyes narrowed at a nearby soldier patrolling the markets, and watched him indiscreetly push a fruit merchant aside and took a mango for himself. "Look around you. Everyone here is a thief, a liar, and swindler."
"That... that doesn't make it right," said Kit.
"Right? Coming from a boy who just stole two bags of gold and a car?"
Kit's eyes narrowed at him. "That's just low."
Karnage grumbled under his breath, annoyed. He pointed to a nearby booth selling poultry. "Why not go stand over there, with the other chickens!"
"Chicken nothing," Kit scowled. "I could sneak away with your socks without touching your shoes! If I wanted to..."
"If, humph!" Karnage folded his arms and turned his nose up at him. "Look at you, always the scaredy-bear! Scared of getting caught, scared of what his fool of a friend might think of him if he knew! What happened to you, boy?"
"I'm not afraid of anything!" seethed Kit.
"You are afraid you might like it. How many times do I tell you, anything you want you can take! But go ahead, go hungry for all I care!"
"You don't know what you're talking about! And what do you know besides how to shoot at airplanes? You just want me to pick some pockets for you, 'cause you're hungry too!"
"Excuse?" Karnage rubbed his finger in his ear as if trying to unplug it, and leaned in closer to his face to keep their conversation a bit more inconspicuous. "Are you in-situating that Don Karrrnage needs you to pick a pocket for him?"
"When's the last time you even tried it?" asked Kit, defiantly. "Did they even have wallets back then, or did they just carry around coin pouches?"
"Let me be clear," snarled Karnage. "I can perfectly pick a peck of pockets before you have a single pocket picked!"
Kit wiped a bit of wolf spittle from his nose. "You wanna bet?"
"Ha!" Karnage waved him off. "Always good for a laugh, boy."
"That does it," Kit said, and pushed his sleeves up. "Every man for himself! Don't go crying when I'm having a feast and you're being hauled away to jail!" In a huff, Kit pushed past Karnage and disappeared into the crowd. Karnage smirked, and he might have pat himself on the back for a job well done... had he not been likely to cramp up on the sidewalk like a pretzel. However, he still had work to do. After all, a wager of bragging rights had been made…
A half hour past, and for certain, Kit found that the days when he was able to ever-so slyly sneak a wallet from an unsuspecting rube's person were long gone. To do it without getting caught took a fine-tuned sense of timing and cunning, and he had not exactly been practicing while living in Cape Suzette.
He thought Karnage was seemingly correct about his general assessment of the city's crowd... so many dark faces in the markets looked so shady that, as he winded though the people, he couldn't so much concentrate on finding a suitable opportunity so much that he was on his own guard to make sure he wasn't a pickpocket victim himself... and he didn't even have pockets.
Kit kept his head ducked low and moved around swiftly, weaving around legs and merchant tents to shake off the suspicious glances he received from some of the more street-savvy characters prowling around for likely the same reason he was. As dirty, tattered, and banged-up as he had been this last week, hardly anyone in the crowd look as bad as he did, and it was likely obvious he was not there for shopping... at least in the conventional sense.
Soon Kit came to an area where a crowd had huddled together with commotion, like they were trying to catch a glimpse of some celebrity, but this was no backlot in Starrywood. Curiosity got the better of him and he decided to take a peek at what all the ado was about.
He was quite smaller than most, and had not much trouble squeezing his way to the front, where he saw a wealthy tigress browsing through wooden furniture, blouses, and cheap jewelry. She wore heavy red lipstick, a flowing white fur coat, and enough gold and gems around her neck, wrists, and fingers that one could wonder how she was still able to stand up under all that weight. She was surrounded by bodyguards in black suits, and one other person, a cougar who was notably too pudgy and short to be a guard, but under his big glasses he had a mouth on him, loud and fast-talking, such as he may have missed his calling to be a circus barker.
"Her Grace, the Duquesa, adores being here with you," said the cougar, to the crowd at large. "Let the world see! Our city is safe! Our city cares for all!"
Kit tuned the cougar out and regarded the lady. Her lipstick painted a subtle, solid grin, but her eyes were utterly bored and disgusted. She loathed putting on such a facade of interest. He watched as she half-heartedly pointed at a colorful woven rug, cracking a forced smile that made her face wrinkle. One of the guards quickly snatched the rug and held it beside her, and she went to pay for it, while the merchant looked on with timidity and fear. That's when Kit noticed her purse... it was large, open, and looked full, but her wallet was carelessly left right on top, and entirely reachable.
Perhaps he was not the only one to notice. The crowd began to tighten a circle around the lady, reaching forward and yelling a myriad of things at her at once, merchants raised their goods and bidded for her attention, and soon her bodyguards were quite busy keeping people at a distance.
Kit was muscled in closer to her; he ducked low, zeroed in on her purse and wiped his fingers against his thighs. His heart was racing, what he was thinking was absolutely insane and he knew it, but it seemed as though her bodyguards were paying attention to everyone except him, and he just had to do it once and get it over with. In a beat he was within a yard of her...
While a bodyguard shoved someone away and inadvertently brushed against the lady, Kit twirled around his legs and, with a very quick swipe, dunked his hand into her purse and yanked out her wallet! But he had not held it for a second before a random street thief batted it out of his hands and ran away with it.
Kit blinked, looking at his empty fingertips. "Wha'? Hey!," he cried. "Thief!" It was a word that caught a lot of attention. Before he knew it, the fellow was pounced on by the bodyguards and taking a fierce beating. "Oh, crud," gasped Kit, and he ran quickly away from there.
He wound up back near where he had last seen Karnage, and come to think of it, he had no idea where Karnage had gone or what he was up to. He clasped his arms wearily against a streetlamp and looked around, and eventually he sat down on the muddy curb.
"What am I doin'," he thought out loud, his face snug in his palms. "I don't care how hungry I am, I don't care what he says, I'm not cut out for this any..." The savory scent of food from that deli caught his nose again. "... more."
Like a fish drawn to a shiny lure, Kit padded to the deli, his nose leading the way, and he saw that the guards had left. The door was half open, the counter was unattended... and there were the stack of sandwiches, still sitting by register.
Kit slid inside without touching the door and tiptoed to the counter. The store was empty, the clerk must have been in the back room. The walls were bountiful with a viable rainbow of mouthwatering meats, cheeses, and breads, though the floor was odd. It was blackened with many holes chipped out of it, like it had been scarred several times with explosives.
Kit kept his focus on the sandwiches. Roast beef? Ham? For what it was worth to his grumbling stomach, they could have been full of crabgrass and still delicious. He stopped just short of the counter and listened for the clerk, heard nothing, and with one last glance over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching, he slid the entire plate off the counter, slowly and quietly... but not quietly enough.
"Ah ha!" the clerk cried, and he suddenly sprang up from behind the register and jumped on the counter, pointing the barrel of a shotgun and Kit's nose!
"Whoa!" yelped Kit, and the plate flew from his hands, with the sandwiches falling all over the place in a big mess. "W-wait! This isn't what it looks like!"
The clerk, however, was not one to ask questions first. He scrunched over with his eye staring down the shotgun's barrel, and squeezed the trigger.
Kit screamed and dove forward, just as the blast fired over his head. More holes and burn marks were put into the floor.
"Wait a minute!" pleaded Kit, his ears ringing.
"Ay! Hold still, thief!" the clerk shouted, and he began reloading his weapon with another shell.
Just then a Alpacatan soldier came running into the store. The clerk pointed at Kit, shouting with chilling giddiness, "I caught another one! Thief!"
"He's nuts," cried Kit. "I was just looking!"
The soldier sighed and apprehended Kit by his wrist. "H'okay, h'okay, tranquilízate! [calm down!]" he told the clerk. "I will take care of the little dog from here."
"Aw, but let me blast him," pouted the clerk, as he just finished loading the next shell into his gun.
"No!" insisted the soldier. "No more of that on new laundry day! Carumba, how many times do I have to tell you, you and your messy thief shooting! Don't you get tired of mopping your floor?"
From behind, Kit heard Karnage approaching, shouting as he rushed into the store, "Wait! Let the boy go!"
"Who are you?" asked the clerk and soldier together.
"Ehm... I am the boy's father," said Karnage.
Kit cringed... how Karnage must have looked to them in his tattered blue coat, making attention for himself, if anything was going to jog their memories of the heist from a year earlier... but when he finally turned to look at the pirate, to his surprise and confusion, he saw he was wearing a new suit: fedora, dress shirt, coat, slacks, the whole bit.
Karnage cleared his throat, and glared at Kit. "Right, boy?"
"Uh, right... dad," said Kit hesitantly, and mentally noted to rinse his mouth out with soap.
As Karnage pulled Kit to his side, the clerk and soldier incredulously looked back and forth at the cub and wolf's faces, to which Karnage responded, "Yes, yes, I know... he takes after his mother, uglier than a monkey's armpit, yes? And not much smarter than one, either, as you can tell by the naughty things he does!"
"Ugly? You're one to talk," snapped Kit. "Ow!"
Karnage had thumped him on the eyebrow, and grinned very nervously at the soldier. "Now now, son, you know better than to take that one with me." Then he coughed loudly, covering his mouth and grumbling aside to Kit, "You want to get shot?"
"Right now, it wouldn't be so bad," Kit grumbled back.
Karnage resumed with a schmoozing grin, "Eh heh, children today, you know? Perhaps when we get home, I take him over my knee, but he is a good boy, no need to take him away!" He pushed Kit in front of him and clamped his hands tight over his shoulders, ready to jostle and squeeze the cooperation out of him if need be. "Now, boy, apologize to the nice man!"
"Okay, okay," huffed Kit. "I'm sorry, mister."
"De verdad, eh? [Oh really?]" scowled the clerk. "What about my sandwiches? I demand justice!" He raised his shotgun menacingly. "Throw him in jail or let me blast him!"
"Ah! I have just what you need," said Karnage. He took a wallet from his slacks and opened it. "Whoops, that one is empty already," he muttered to himself, then fished out another wallet from his pocket, and that time he produced from it a bundle of cash. "Here, close early today, yes-no?"
Kit could not believe what he was seeing; regardless, it was obvious now who won the pickpocketing wager.
Karnage split the cash between the clerk and the soldier, who were both quite pleased, and the clerk's protests were quelled. "The boy will just clean up the mess he made in the nice man's store, and we are on our way," he said, holding the door open for the soldier. "Boy, get busy!"
"This nice man with the itchy trigger finger can pick up his own mess," said Kit, and he started stomping toward the door.
Karnage stepped in front of him, his fur bristling from his collar. "Now," he hissed.
"Seeing as the debt to society as been repaid, my work here is done," said the soldier, pocketing his bribe. "But from now on, keep an eye on your son," he said as he brushed passed Karnage.
As Kit disgruntledly picked up pieces of sandwich from the floor, Karnage looked out the window, at the salivating clerk counting his money in its reflection, and at the soldier walking out of sight. "What a city," he said. "So many eyes looking to steal. You never know who may be watching."
On cue, the clerk looked up, suddenly became aware of a hundred unseen faces leering at the money through the store walls, and hurried to the back room to put the money away in a safe. Once he was gone, Karnage posted a 'closed' sign on the front door, shut it and locked the deadbolt. "Next time, boy, shut your face and help! Now quick, get the curtains!"
"I got your curtains right here!" Kit furiously threw the ruined sandwiches back on the floor and kicked Karnage in the shin.
"Ow!" howled Karnage. In return, he grabbed Kit's ear and gave it a twist.
"Ow!" yelped Kit. He pulled Karnage's fingers off his ear and pulled them apart like a wishbone.
"Ow!" yelled Karnage, and stomped on Kit's toe.
"Ow!" Kit let go of his fingers and hopped around on one foot.
"A simple thanking of my marvelous self would do!" said Karnage.
"Thanks? I almost got my head blown off! And that guava about you being my dad!"
"Oh, stick a pastrami in it, you whining whelp," said Karnage. "Do you not see what I just did? Once we take care of that moron in the back, we have all the food we want... and a new gun that will help persuade Shere Khan's pilot to surrender his plane."
"I lost my appetite," said Kit, crossing his arms.
Karnage sighed and rolled his eyes. "It is not how many times you get caught, but how many times you never give up. You did not do so terribly bad."
"Stop it!" said Kit. "I'm not a thief anymore! And I hate this place. Can't we just hurry up and steal that stupid plane so we can get out of here already?" Realizing what he had just said, and how Karnage suddenly glowed smugly over it, he smacked himself on the forehead.
"Curtains, if you please," grinned Karnage.
"Aw, the heck with it," muttered Kit. Resignedly, he went to the window and pulled the blinds over it.
From outside, the city hustle and bustle went on oblivious to the matters proceeding behind the deli's closed door. Several minutes later, Kit and Karnage stepped out on the sidewalk, their stomachs so stuffed they had to stagger. Kit burped and wiped a last bit of mustard from his lip. "What about the guy? How long do you think until someone finds him tied up back there?"
"Let him eat olive loaf," shrugged Karnage. He had with him the clerk's shotgun, wrapped not-so-inconspicuously from tip to tip in white wax paper. "And remember, if anyone asks, salami. Extra large!"
Kit made it a point to keep a few paces away from the pirate. "If anyone asks," he said, "and you actually tell them that, I've never seen you before in my life."
They trekked from there to the marina, where they found Khan Enterprises' plane moored at the end of a long dock. One of the pilots stood at the front of the dock, warding any curious passers-by away from the aircraft. He was frequently checking his watch.
"I bet he's waiting for ol' ugly," said Kit, as he and Karnage peered around a stack of crates from a distance. The area was crowded enough to where they did not want the pilot calling for help before they reached the plane, so removing him was going to have to be a crafty endeavor, and they stood for a moment considering their options. Karnage in particular was wary of letting the pilot recognize him and start making a scene.
"If one of us lures him near the plane, away from the others, perhaps no one will notice anything," said Karnage.
"Oh?" Kit raised an eyebrow at him. Every time he heard the words 'one of us', it was always obvious who was being volunteered.
"One of us should swim and climb to the other end of the dock," said Karnage.
The raised eyebrow turned into a dirty glare. "Oh?"
Karnage slapped Kit heartily on the back and shoved him forward. "Break a leg, boy! Or, I break one for you. Try not to drown this time, yes?"
"Nuh-uh, nothin' doin'!" said Kit, and, quite pretentiously, he straightened his sweater sleeves over his shoulders and cracked his knuckles. "I've got a better idea."
"Oh, please," scoffed Karnage. "What would you do, ask him to jump off the dock and let us pass?"
"I've got a bozo to bamboozle," said Kit. Before Karnage could stop him, the boy sauntered toward the pilot, and turning back once with a sly grin. "Just watch and learn."
"Boy!" hissed Karnage, "get back here! If you ruin this...!"
Kit approached the dock and began to casually stroll around the pilot. "Hey," the panther exclaimed. "Where do you think you're going?"
Kit blinked at him like he had just now noticed him standing there. "To find my lucky penny. What else?"
"Well, look somewhere else," said the pilot. "This dock is off limits, and there ain't no lucky pennies anywhere near it."
Meanwhile, Karnage groaned and rested his forehead against the top crate. "Lucky... penny. Note to marvelous self: kick the boy harder next time."
Kit continued with the pilot, "But it has to be! I lost it this morning, right around this dock."
"Not my problem," said the pilot, stepping in front of the boy.
Suddenly, Kit grabbed onto the bottom of his uniform shirt and pleaded with him, "No! It's lost! You gotta help me find it!"
"What the..." sputtered the pilot, and he pushed Kit away. "What the heck is wrong with you? Hey, weren't you the kid at Louie's...?"
Then Kit looked up at the sky, like he had just heard a voice calling. "What? No, please, I'll find it! Just give me a few more minutes!"
The pilot looked up as well. "What... who... are you talking to?"
"No time to explain!" said Kit frantically, and he latched on to the pilot's shirt again. "Quick, you gotta help me! When I don't have my lucky penny, unlucky... things... start happening!"
"Will you calm down," grunted the pilot, wrestling Kit to an arms-length distance. "What can happen just because you lost some stupid penny?"
Kit waited a beat, his eyes wide with fright (or excitement, the pilot could not tell). "I start fires."
At that, the pilot stumbled backward. "Holy cripes, what kind of basket case are you?" He dug into his pocket and presented Kit a new coin. "Here, take a lucky nickel and get lost!"
Kit refused it, and circled around the dock worriedly, hands over his ears. "No! I need... I need my penny."
By that time, Karnage, watching on, was utterly speechless with his jaw frozen open.
"Wait, it was right here," Kit said, jotting to the edge of the dock and peering over. "Look! There it is, in the water!"
"Kid, please just get off my dock," pleaded the panther. "You can't see a penny down there!"
"I see it!" beamed Kit, doing a hopping dance and pointing vigorously at the water. "Look, look!"
Frustrated, the pilot leaned over the edge to see what the big deal was. "I don't see squat!"
Kit swung behind him and gave the pilot a heafy nudge with his shoulders, sending him yelping into the drink. "Aw, well, I could be mistaken," Kit laughed. Above the splashes and curses that bought them a few minutes to take the plane, he spun toward Karnage and held his arms out in a 'Ta-da!' fashion. "No applause necessary!"
Of course, there was no applause offered. Instead the wolf sighed and rubbed his forehead as he passed Kit on the dock. "Headaches, boy. One after the other with you!"
"No, really," said Kit, dryly. "All your cheering is gonna go straight to my head."
"Now, we get this show in the air!" Karnage tore off all the wax paper from the shotgun, and aimed for the lock on the plane's side door.
"Wait!" said Kit, pushing the gun's muzzle away from the plane. "Before you put a big hole in our new plane..." Kit simply pulled on the handle and the door swung open.
Karnage turned his nose up at the boy's smug expression. "Fine, if you must do it the boring way," he scoffed.
When they stepped inside the plane, they found the second pilot in the cockpit; his back was turned toward them, and his ears were covered with large headphones. He was busily turning a radio knob on the dash, and held a microphone on his lap.
"We find Richter?" At length the panther turned around, expecting to see his partner... but no, the pirate making him stare up the barrel of a shotgun was definitely not his partner. He threw his hands up and held them there. "Whoa, who are ― oh no, you again!"
Karnage lowered the shotgun a bit and cocked his head curiously. "Me again?"
"You don't r-remember?" asked the pilot, in fright. "Flight one twenty-seven over Flanders? You hijacked my plane in mid-air and blew it up!"
"Hmm..." Karnage thought about it for a moment. "No, that would be any typical Tuesday afternoon. But, since we are already acquainted..." He gave the panther another eyeful of shotgun barrel. "Start the plane."
"Wait, you gotta let me go," begged the pilot. "I got a wife and kids!"
"We can't take him with us," Kit whispered aside to Karnage.
Karnage clicked his tongue sympathetically. "Oh, but of course I will let you go! You have my word!" He stepped forward nose-to-nose with the panther, a hard glare and a smirk of diabolical giddiness. "Fly."
Out beyond the marina, on a stretch of open sea left quiet between the fishing boats, a lone seagull floated about in the blue crests. It paddled merrily along, oblivious to the big plane that was zipping over its head, which was quite unfortunate, because it also took no heed to the sudden shadow growing around its feathered body, a shadow that quickly grew to the size of Khan's pilot just before the big splash. The bird never knew what hit it.
Up in the plane, Kit found a first aid kit and put two band-aids over his brow to cover the gash he received in the early morning. He had taken the the co-pilot's seat, shaking his head at Karnage's cackling from the cargo hold. In a moment the captain had finished locking the side door and joined him in the cockpit, taking the controls; he had tossed the gun aside. "Hee! You should have seen that splash!"
Kit peered out the window, rubbernecking to see below, where the pilot bobbed in the water, batting away the pecking wrath of a very angry seagull. Most excellent, however, was the sight of Alpacito City and the jungle beyond it shrinking and fading in the distance. He heaved a big sigh of relief and sank into his seat.
He looked at Karnage, saw him very much the same way, slouched low with only a single finger wrapped around the bottom of the flight yoke, and a tired, absent grin that gloated over finally leaving the jungle behind. They shared a glance and burst into laughter.
"Wow," said Kit. "Did you ever seriously think we weren't gonna make it out of there?"
"Never," replied Karnage.
"Not once?"
"Not once," said Karnage. "What, you did?"
"Well, no! Not me!" Kit leaned toward the side window and hid his mouth behind his palm. "I mighta thought your raggedy ol' tail wasn't gonna make it."
"What was that?"
"Oh... nothing. Nothing at all."
"Well stop nothing and find a map," said Karnage.
"There's one right here," replied Kit, reaching down the side of his seat, where he picked up a folded map. "Hold on, I'll tell you which way to turn in a second..."
"I know the way home," said Karnage. "I want you to mark where we found the gold, for the Iron Vulture."
"Aaahh... let's see if I can find it." Kit unfolded the map and scanned it with his finger. "Here it is. And look! It's exactly the same place where we found the giant, fire-breathing dragon! You don't suppose that minor little detail is going to be a problem, do ya?"
"You saw, the big baboon Richter killed the white one," said Karnage. "They can be bested."
"That wasn't the same, though," said Kit. "How're we gonna fend off something that big?"
"Listen to me, by this time tomorrow, you will be up to your eyebrows in gold! I have a plan." Karnage straightened up in his seat, pushed the plane's throttle to full power. "We will deal with the estupid dragon."
