Chapter 19: Casino Roy-Dale

The desert sun moved on across the sky. For another couple of hours, its rays gave daylight and warmth to the city of Las Vegas and to two tiny tents which were mounted on the steel structure behind the large illuminated sign next to the broad driveway which led to the Versailles Palace. On both ends of the structure, sirens and red strobe lights were mounted, parts of the Versailles Palace's alarm system. Between the tents, two likewise tiny and strange-looking aircraft were parked.

For most places in the world, the sunlight was the source of life. Las Vegas, however, was one of those to which the opposite seemed to apply, those that really came to life after sunset when the many artificial illuminations shone against the dark sky.

"The game is Black Jack," the croupier said, an albino rat in a red jacket and white shirt.

Double-O Dale placed his bet onto the green felt surface of the small table. He didn't know anything about Black Jack except for what he had seen in the Dirk Suave movies. But it was a nice way to spend his time before he was meeting up with his nemesis, Fat Cat, in whose casino he obviously found himself, only that it was much more glamorous than what he remembered from earlier cases. Besides, he wanted to impress the gorgeous red-furred bat lady in the black dress who was standing opposite of him.

The bat batted her eyelashes. Hot steam built up underneath Dale's collar and searched for a way out, preferably upward.

"Good luck, sir," she said. Her voice alone was enough to take Dale's breath away.

He tried hard to appear rather cool than goofy. After all, he was a Double-O super agent, and Double-O super agents were always cool. "Thank you."

"What's your name, if I may ask?"

"The name's Dale. Double-O Dale." He didn't consider hiding his identity at all.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr.," she inserted a short pause, "Dale."

"And your name is?" he asked as though he didn't know.

Before she could reply, a siren began to sound. The crystal chandeliers under the ceiling went dark, and red light bulbs became the only source of light as if the casino was built into a submarine. Animal gamblers were running for the front door, but Dale stayed where he was. "Dang," he said, "I'm discovered! Okay, showtime!"

"You'd better go, too," the bat lady recommended.

But Dale answered, "No way I'm gonna run away now. He'll be here anytime."

"Oh, 'he' is already here, Mr. Dale," a familiar voice said. Its owner was obviously also the owner of the hand which grabbed him from behind and lifted him up.

"Fat Cat!" Dale said. "We finally meet!"

"Oh, I'm sure it'll be our final meeting. Or at least the final meeting for one of us."

"Black Jack!" the croupier shouted. He had stayed faithful to his job and not left the table in the middle of the game. "Sir, you've got Black Jack! Sir!"

The bat lady just stood and stared up at Dale.

Suddenly, everything went dark. From time to time, some yellow lights lit up Dale's surroundings, but they appeared to be covered with dark plastic foils. The table was gone. The bat lady was gone. Fat Cat was gone. The whole casino was gone. It had all just been a dream. But the blaring siren was still present.

As soon as Dale had grasped the situation, he jumped up and yelled out loud, "Alarm! Alarm! Burglars!"

He started towards the exit of the tent but tripped over something or rather someone on his way. "Oof!" he went as he landed flat on the steel ground, already half outside the tent. He raised his head to examine what was going on, but a bonk upon it sent him down again.

If there was something he was immediately aware of, it was who had bonked him. "Hey," he shouted while he rubbed his head, "why've ya done this?"

"There was no burglary, dummy!" Chip shouted back. "Or are the red strobes flashing? There, see for yourself!"

Dale looked up and saw Gadget climb onto the Rangerwing. She pushed some button near the middle of the dashboard, and whatever alarm it was fell silent. "It was a good idea to replace the old watch with a digital one," she spoke rather to herself than to the few listeners whom she hadn't noticed yet, "but golly, I should've used a smaller speaker for the alarm. Or a less powerful amplifier."

When she spotted the two chipmunks, she smiled sweetly. "Good morning, guys! Wlachally, 'good evening' would be more appropriate, considering it's two minutes past seven in the evening. That is, it's morning in Siberia and Central Asia now, but I don't think anyone could hear me greet them, unless of course I phoned them, but I haven't got anyone's number there, let alone a phone, although..."

"And a good evening to you, my sweet Gadget," Chip interrupted her.

"Hi Chip," she greeted him back. "Dale, it's nice to see you up early. Guess it was a good idea not to bring a TV along," she commented with a smirk.

Dale was about to explain that he wouldn't watch those game shows and soap operas which made up the TV program around that time anyway, besides, Gadget hadn't invented a small enough portable TV yet, but he decided not to say a word.

The next to leave the tent was Monterey Jack. "Crikey, what's all the 'assle 'ere, Chipper?" he asked.

"Oh, Dale just mistook the alarm clock on the Rangerwing for the palace alarm."

Monty was all confused now. "We've got an alarm clock on the Rangerwing? Was that what ya meant with, 'I'll wake yer up in time,' Gadget luv?"

"Sure," Gadget replied, "it's one of the functions of the digital watch I installed recently. That is, the alarm sound generator, the amplifier, and the speaker are external components."

"So that was what that noise came from." Still a bit sleepy, LaWahini peeked out of the girls' tent. "I dreamed some non-sense about a volcanic eruption early warning system that Hubba Hubba made me set up. Of course, I installed a set of manual controls in my hut, but when I accidentally activated the system, I couldn't turn it off again."

Foxglove's head appeared next to hers. "Congratulations, Gadget, you managed to mess up my echolocation in my dream."

This was new to LaWahini. "You use echolocation in your dreams?"

"Sure, or don't you look at anything when you're dreaming? Anyway, as if that wasn't enough, when Tammy jumped up, her head hit mine."

Tammy's slightly muffled voice came out of the tent. "You do have one hard skull, Foxy. Could you please hang above someone else next time we're sleeping in this tent?"

"'ey Zipper," Monty asked his old buddy who came flying out of the guys' tent, "do we 'ave ta wake Sparky up?"

Zipper answered that Sparky was already awake. A second later, the tent opened up, and out came the lab rat, dressed up to the nines in a white shirt and a light blue dinner jacket. "Sorry for not tidying up my hair," he apologized, "but it's kinda stubborn. Say, why aren't you dressed up yet? Am I too early or too late? And what was it that we had to dress up for?"

"We're gonna see a show tonight," Chip told him again, "and then meet someone who might help us on our case. And don't worry, you're perfectly in time. By the way, everyone please get into their suits and dresses now. The earlier we're there, the better seats we have."

Upon Chip's order, the Rangers retreated into their respective tents, only Sparky stayed outside. "Come to think," LaWahini commented, "I'm the only one who's changing from one dress into another. I wonder what's wrong with my sarong."

"I used to wonder what's wrong with my overalls," Gadget said. "But that was when I believed that bad things happen whenever I wear a dress."

Foxglove opened her personal bag. "What about me? I'm not used to wearing any clothes at all." She carefully took her gown out of her bag. "This thing is tailor-made, but it's still a wonder I can fly with it on. Oh well, Dale says I look beautiful in it."

"So you do, Foxy," Tammy said, "so you do."

Over in the guys' tent, things were a lot more chaotic. Dale had spread most of the contents of his bag over one half of the floor. These, however, contained neither comics nor candy for a change. They were the components of what Dale was going to wear, his Double-O Super Agent suit. He hadn't worn it for a long while, and Gadget had given it several upgrades since then, so he had to figure out anew how and in which order to put everything together and in place. Some parts were familiar to him, especially those he had invented himself back then, but others he saw for the first time.

He held up something that resembled an unusually slim and somehow streamlined rucksack despite its rigid shell. "Uh, Chip, what's this?"

Chip took a break from buttoning up his shirt and examined the backpack device. "Don't know," he answered, "I've never seen it before either. You're sure you haven't used it yet, Dale?"

"Chip, I've never worn such a... whatever it is on my back. I don't even know if I shall wear it over or under my jacket."

"Well," the black-nosed chipmunk said, "it's certainly not worn outside the jacket. Maybe Gadget can tell you more about it." He put on his dinner jacket, left the tent, and called, "Gadget? Gadget, we need your help here, sorta."

"I'm coming," he heard Gadget's voice from inside the other tent, "just a moment, please."

Chip waited patiently for Gadget to come out, and when she did, she took his breath away with no effort at all. She wore the same white and pastel pink evening gown she had worn on that one particular date with Chip. It was one of a kind, inspired by a dream she had almost a year ago which followed an adventure cartoon marathon in an almost entirely fictional late 30s setting inhabited by roughly human-sized anthropomorphic animals. Aviation and particularly seaplanes played a big role in that show which provided the surroundings for the dream Gadget had the following night. She had seen that dress in the show, she had seen it again in her dream, and she had even been given one of her size. The following morning, she forgot about her bad experiences with dresses and asked a befriended tailor to make such a dress for her. Half a year later, she had worn it for the first time on what she and Chip believed to be their very last date. They had been dating for sixteen years without daring to reveal their feelings for one another, and they had decided independently that if that didn't happen again, they would quit the nerve-racking dating. However, a big case several weeks before changed a lot for both of them, not only because Gadget got her family back—her father who had been officially proclaimed dead more than a year before the Rescue Rangers joined, her mother whom she had never seen before since they had been separated when she was only a few days old, and her sister whom she did know, but not as a relative, but as a villain who happened to look like her and who had made bad use of these very convenient conditions—but also because Chip and Gadget came closer to each other than ever before in a certain way. All these still fresh memories came back to Chip's mind as he saw Gadget in that dress.

But something was wrong about her outfit. "Gadget! Wait!" Chip heard Tammy call. A second later, the squirrel maid jumped out of the tent and yanked the pair of blue goggles off Gadget's head. She held them before Gadget's face. "Gadget, did you even notice you put them back on?"

"Golly, did I?" Gadget replied. "I guess I didn't pay attention to what I'm putting on. Thanks for reminding me, Tammy."

"You're welcome, Gadget." Tammy handed her a small artificial flower. "Here, wear this instead. Sheesh, what'dya do without me..."

Gadget turned around and watched Tammy get back into the tent with LaWahini fumbling around on her back where her long blue dress was still partly open. "How am I supposed to zip up your dress when you're whirling around like this?" the former Hawaiian mouse said. "And Gadget, with that flower, you look more like me than myself. Regard this as a compliment. Tammy, stop! Ah, and will you please pay a little more attention to what you're doin' with that tail of yours, in my face no less..."

With this distraction gone, Gadget paid attention to Chip again. He, too, was wearing the same suit as on that very special date. But he wore it more frequently than she wore that dress. "So, Chip, what do you need my help with?"

"Dale's trying to assemble his super agent suit," Chip told her, "but he could use a bit of advice."

"Well, let's see." Gadget knocked on the tent next to the entrance, at least as far as she could knock on a tent. "May I come in, guys?"

Four affirmative replies later, she entered the tent and saw Dale with the backpack. "Be careful with that one!" she said, slightly raising her voice.

"Why," Dale asked, "what is it?"

"It's a slim-line, baking soda-based, strap-on dual rocket pod. It provides you with thrust for 30 seconds. Unfortunately, at this stage of development, you can neither control the thrust nor switch it off, but it should work as is. It's worn underneath the shirt, and I recommend to mount the trigger on the inside of your jacket and connect it to one of the buttons."

"Wowie-zowie," Dale cheered, "a rocket worn on the back, like in the cartoons on TV! May I test it?"

"Don't dare turn it on in here," Chip warned him.

"Besides," Gadget added, "we can't refuel it yet. I'm working on it, but as of now, once it's empty, it needs to return to my workshop."

"Uh, Gadget," Chip asked with unease, "is this thing tested at all? And doesn't Dale need a bit of training?"

"Of course it's tested. Well, with a dummy and a wire as a remote control, but I'm sure it won't fail. And yes, Dale should really practice with it."

"And when and with which fuel shall he do it? Dale, I think you'd better leave this one out for tonight. It'd be uncomfortable anyway when you have to sit through the show. On second thought, you'd better not wear these super agent gizmos at all during the show. I'm sure you won't need them, and the staff won't allow cameras in there anyway, even if they're hidden in a bow tie."

A couple of minutes later, everyone including Dale was dressed up and ready to go. The tents were dismantled and stowed on the Rangerplane, as was the rest of the mobile headquarters. The Rescue Rangers entered their two aircraft to fly down to the palace, and Foxglove noticed a sulking Dale. "What's up, cutie?"

"Aw, Chip won't let me wear my Double-O Super Agent equipment."

"Cheer up, Dale." She pecked him on the cheek. "It feels weird on you anyway," she said as she wrapped her wings around him, "and I never know if any of these gimmicks will blow up or do something else unexpectedly when I touch it by chance. Don't worry, Dale, that suit looks snazzy on you as it is."

"Thank you, Foxy. And you look good in that dress, too."

"Oh, Dale!" Instead of pecking him again, Foxglove gave him a big smooch.

Dale grinned. "Heh, must be the suit."