>Chapter Fourteen : Meeting Engagement JOEL: Shouldn't you avoid getting engaged when you first meet? CROW: I hate these arranged marriages. > >Monty pulled Chip into the Ranger Wing as they sped away from Fat Cat's >on autopilot. TOM: I thought they would be in the Ranger Wing. > >"We're going in the wrong direction," Chip pointed out. "Gadget and Dale >will be on the roof." > >"It's no good, mate," Monterey corrected him. CROW: [MONTY] They're probably dead already. TOM: [CHIP] Lucky devils. > "Left vertical blade's >been hit. We can't hover or land vertically until it's fixed." TOM: Monty loses his accent. CROW: Good. > >"Then we need to land in water," Chip said, aghast. JOEL: [CHIP] I already bathed this month! > "No, we don't have >time. I'll crawl out on the wing while you hold it steady." TOM: [MONTY] Roight! CROW: [CHIP] No, Monty, I meant hold the *plane* steady, not the AAAAK- [JOEL makes a "VRRRoooom ... crash!" noise.] > >=== > >Dale stared up at the porcupine, who was looking down at him and >grinning. CROW: [PRICKLES] So, Dale, you ever been a woman? TOM: Well, he *is* wearing a dress.... > >"I think it's only fair to give you a chance to surrender," Dale >cautioned him. TOM: About what? CROW: Incoming technobabble! TOM: NOOOO! > >A popular office doodad of some years ago was a set of five or so steel >balls, each on a trapeze, set into a frame. When one ball at the end was >swung, it would strike the other balls and, in a demonstration of >conservation of momentum, would sent the far ball swinging on its >trapeze. JOEL: [Disgusted] Yeah, yeah, conservation of momentum.... > >One of these steel balls swung down from Gadget's Ceiling Crawling >Suctionmobile and struck Prickles firmly on the back of his head. In a >demonstration of conservation of momentum, his CROW: Skull burst with a gentle pop. TOM: [DALE] Ew! Isn't it bad when their heads get all soft like that? > unconscious body slid a >considerable distance. TOM: If we assume the elasticity of the collision is 0.75, and set -- > >"Good to see you," Dale said, tail thumping. CROW: Now he's a dog. > Zipper buzzed a greeting. JOEL: [DALE] Who's the fly? >Gadget removed the straps holding her in a face - down driving position, [CROW whistles nervously.] >and dropped gently to the floor. She took out an X-Acto knife and cut >through the table cloths tied around Dale. CROW: [GADGET] Golly, Dale, didn't this happen on your last date with Foxglove? > >"Good to see you," she agreed. "You okay?" JOEL: By whose standards? > >"No problem. Say, how are you going to get back up there?" he asked, >looking up at the Suctionmobile. It ran on four wheels, each with six >suction cups along the rims. The ceilings at Fat Cat's were, >understandably, high, and by clinging to them it was possible to move >anywhere unnoticed. TOM: Cats don't look up, after all. CROW: Hey, it worked in "Adventures in Squirrelsitting". > >Gadget looked up, uncertainly. "Oh, shoot." TOM: D'oh! CROW: Boing! JOEL: Oh, for fun! > >=== > >"Mr. Calvert. Break the men JOEL: [JÜRGEN] Of composing haiku. > into three squads, each with a Recoilless >team. One to hold this floor, one on the roof, one TOM: Ring to find them all and in the darkness bind them. > in ambush outside if >they go out the windows." TOM: Oh, you mean the ones a previous chapter stated were nonexistent? Gotcha. > Widget was already halfway to the elevator. >"I'll stay with Widget." > >"What widget, sir?" > >"It's her name." TOM: Name dropper! JOEL: [CALVERT] Mister big shot veteran gets to know her name.... > >"Oh. Do you want a bodyguard, sir?" Mr. Calvert was clearly worried. JOEL: If something happens to Widget and Jürgen, he'd be in charge. How worried can he be? CROW: I think he meant a bodyguard to protect Jürgen *from* Widget. > >"You can't spare the manpower... get more reinforcements, use them to >search the building." TOM: It's a big cat statue. There's only two rooms. > >"Sir." > >Jürgen barely caught up with Widget. "You should wait downstairs," he >complained. JOEL: [JÜRGEN] This is man's work, little missy. TOM: [WIDGET] I wonder how your tonsils would look outside your mouth. > >"She'll slip through your fingers," TOM: [JÜRGEN] At least I have ten of them. JOEL: Eight. TOM: Oops. > Widget shook her head. "She's >halfway out the building already. She doesn't intend to go downstairs. >That pepper pot was a distraction. She's going up. My sister thinks with >wings, she does," she murmured. JOEL: Most of us think with our heads. > >"That's why I'm sending a group to hold the roof," Jürgen explained. >"But if she's that far ahead of us, she's already gone." CROW: So they went home. The end. > >Pink eyes regarded him steadily. "Then there's no harm in my going >ahead, is there?" CROW: [WIDGET] After all, there's only three of them, and it's not like they're mad at me. > >Jürgen leaned against the walls of the elevator and sighed in >frustration. TOM: [JÜRGEN] 12,944 words to go. > >=== > >Zipper undid the last strap on the cylindrical device fastened to the >now inaccessible Suctionmobile. It dropped into Gadget's waiting arms. >"Thanks, Zipper," she said. "Please scout around a little." CROW: [GADGET] Nowhere in particular. > The plucky >fly saluted and was off. CROW: [GADGET] Finally got rid of him. He was stealing my best lines. > "Dale, we have to get to the roof. The Ranger >Wing will meet us." > >"Right," Dale agreed. "What's that, Gadget?" CROW: [GADGET] It's a plane I built out of a flashlight! Geeze.... > >It was a large-capacity disposable cigarette lighter which she held >horizontally, the top facing away from her. A sliding handle was >attached to the thumb gear. "It's a little short ranged, but it should >be good enough," she evaded cheerfully. [Dead silence.] JOEL: Uh... guys? TOM: Nuh-uh, Joel. Gadget doesn't build lethal weapons. Even Nowak would know and respect that. > >Zipper came back at high speed, and started buzzing frantically. CROW: I hear there's a website where they post what Zipper was actually saying. JOEL: What's that, boy? Timmy's in the well? Oh no! > >"Widget's coming?" Dale echoed, shocked. "Gadget, let's go!" [Everyone makes clucking noises.] > >"How many with her?" Gadget asked instead. > >=== > >Widget paused before turning the corner. She sniffed. "Do you smell >victory?" she asked Jürgen curiously. TOM: No, that's foreshadowing. > >"Flammenwerfer!" Jürgen snapped. CROW: Tom, what's a Flammenwerfer? TOM: Something that werfs flamms. JOEL: Like Gonterman after _Sonic # 47?_ TOM: Not quite that dangerous. > >"No," Gadget corrected. "Flame thrower. Jürgen, get out of the way." > >"Gadget," Dale said, horrified, "What are you doing?!" TOM: [GADGET] Acting out of character. Why? > >"Finishing this! TOM: The story?! JOEL: Maybe! TOM & CROW: DO IT! DO THE DEED! > Jürgen, get out of the way!" > >"I absolutely will not!" JOEL: [JÜRGEN] She still owes me for one week of henching! > he snapped, trying to hold Widget behind him. >"Widget, verschwindet!" CROW: Tom? TOM: Disappear. > >"Jürgen, I'm warning you-" > >Dale heard a scream from Widget that seemed to stab into his ribs. For a >moment, he thought Gadget had actually fired. Instead, Widget had >jumped, kicked off the wall, and was - > >-- flashing in like a leaping cat - JOEL: [WIDGET] If I die, the story ends. TOM: Hey, she *does* have a humane side. > >Sparks flew but Gadget was shifting her aim while trying to start the >flame thrower. CROW: [GADGET] Silly me, I had it in drive.... > The fluid didn't light. > >Widget threw her cloak over her sister's head. Her left arm was drawn >back, fist touching her right shoulder. JOEL: [WIDGET] I pledge allegiance to the flag- > A spring released, the arm >snapped like the arm of a mousetrap, connecting against Gadget's >cheekbone. TOM: Oh, cool! > As her stainless steel fist moved left, Widget lifted her leg >and turned right, catching Gadget's knee and throwing her to the ground. TOM: Are they wearing diaphanous robes? > >Ironically, the padding of Widget's cape probably kept Gadget's skull >from cracking. CROW: [WIDGET] Ha ha, silly me. Next time I try to crack my sister's skull, I'll remember that one. > When she hit the ground, she instinctively rolled towards >Widget. Widget was on one foot, CROW: Doing a bit of impromptu yoga. > the other drawn back to kick. Widget >went over. TOM: [excited] And did they grab each other and roll around? > >They rolled to their feet and faced one another, separated by the width >of the hall. TOM: Nuts! CROW: Hey, this is just like Street Fighter II, now! > >Gadget screamed and jumped, slamming her slightly bigger sister against >the wall. They clenched, TOM: Oh, yes.... > going for one another's eyes with their right >hands. Widget's left arm slowly coiled around her sister's waist, >squeezing her, slowly tighter and tighter. JOEL: [WIDGET] Let me give you a big mousie hug! > >If Gadget had been thinking more clearly, TOM: She would have taken Zipper's role. > she would have thought about >leverage and power: CROW: Oh, of course. Everyone in a fight to the death thinks about leverage and power. > the less speed, the more force. Widget's arm could >have cracked ribs or even her back if it tightened. As it was, the only >machine she could think of was the X-Acto knife in its sheath. JOEL: Guys, I lost track of the "shes". TOM: Just try to picture it in your mind, like me. JOEL: No. I won't. CROW: I just want to know since when a knife is classified as a machine. > >Her left hand brought it up, and forced it against Widget's waist, >aiming below the ribs and up. CROW: Gadget was a Navy SEAL and learned how to use a knife against the Republican Guard. > >The tip snapped off. > >Widget laughed. "I get all my fabric from DuPont." TOM: Actually, Kevlar is relatively easy to cut with a knife. She'd need - CROW: Stop it. > >Widget's left arm was driving into Gadget's back, lifting her off the >ground. Gadget kicked against the wall, sending them both crashing down >- onto her. TOM: Now kiss! > >"Hold it!" Dale yelled, flame thrower pointed at them. TOM: Darn. > >Widget flashed him a look. "Go ahead!" she hissed. "Do us! Go ahead!" CROW: [DALE] Both of you? I don't think I can - > >Gadget was starting to have trouble breathing. JOEL: Pollen season. > Widget held her left >wrist, trying to twist the knife out. Gadget's right hand gripped >Widget's ear firmly, and drove her head into the floor. CROW: I just realized... this story's kind of dark, isn't it? > >Dale turned the flame thrower on Jürgen, who flinched back. "Let go NOW, >Widget!" TOM: [DALE] Or I'll banish Jürgen to the nega-dimension with this flamethrower! > >"I'll break her back," Widget hissed. JOEL: Are you utterly without conscience? Is there any act too ugly for Nowak to inflict on these forest creatures!? TOM: Uhm... CROW: Veiled threats of lesbian squirrel rape. JOEL: You're right. It could be worse. > >Dale grabbed the flame thrower's slide with a trembling hand. Jürgen, >eyes terror-stricken, stumbled backwards against the wall. > >"Okay, okay," Widget CROW: [WIDGET] Finish him off. > surrendered. She let Gadget go, stepped backwards >away from her. They stood a moment, gasping for breath. Then Widget's >glance went to Jürgen, and Gadget's knife flashed. Widget threw herself >out of the way, but the knife slit an ear. TOM: The hell - ? > >"Gadget!" Dale yelped. ALL: GADGET!! > >Widget pressed a hand to her ear. "Princess," she hissed. > >"Slot machine," Gadget hissed back. A drop of blood gathered at the top >of the knife and splattered on the floor. TOM: Flame-throwers, knives... Nowak, what is WRONG with you!? > >Jürgen ducked away from Dale, grabbed Widget by the upper arms. "Not >here," he snapped. "Not now! You're too - important - to die for this!" JOEL: [JÜRGEN] You have to sign my check! > >Widget stared at him, gasping for breath. CROW: Pollen season. These things run in families. > >"They have a flame thrower!" he reminded her. TOM: [WIDGET] Oh, that's right! I had forgotten! > >"You guys move back," Dale quavered. "Gadget, let's go!" > >The blood on Widget's face showed in stark relief against her white fur. CROW: Reminding us all that the Rescue Rangers were never like this. >Trying to look languid, she reached down to pick up her cape, turned her >back, and walked so quickly Jürgen had trouble keeping up. > >"They'll bring others," Dale pointed out. JOEL: Now Dale's showing common sense again. Why? TOM: Nowak Rules. > >Gadget had taken the flame thrower back. She was limping on her right >leg, and her cheek was starting to swell up. JOEL: At least something swell's happened to her. > "I almost had her, Dale," >she said. "I almost had her. I'm sorry!" TOM: Me too. > >"For what?" he asked, flabbergasted. > >"If she kills you," Gadget said simply. "She doesn't care if you get in >the crossfire. TOM: Next on CNN! > When Jürgen blocked me, I should have -" > >"-Been more like her?" Dale asked. > >Gadget didn't answer. Instead, she opened a door leading to an office. > >=== CROW: [whiny] Joel, I'm carsick. TOM: Count the lines. It'll make you feel better. [chuckles evilly] JOEL: What is with you, Tom? C'mon, we're a family. TOM: Precisely. In the Nowakverse. > >Chip was still struggling on the wing. The rubber band which spun the >vertical blade had been split by a .22 bullet, TOM: Nowak got it wrong. The Ranger Wing is a tiltrotor with direct-drive electric motors. > and he was trying to rig >a temporary replacement out of the shock absorber on his parachute. CROW: Because Gadget's planes never crash. JOEL: Oh, goodness no. > The >problem was CROW: Chip... has a Problem. > that the Wing's horizontal speed was making the blade >windmill - it was spinning overhead as he tried to fit the replacement. >And to work at all, the belt needed to have considerable tension. CROW: Sexual tension. > And >most distracting of all, JOEL: Chip had a tiny sliver of acorn between two teeth, where he couldn't get it with a toothpick, and he had no floss. > they were being shot at. TOM: That'll do it, too. > >The hole the last .22 bullet had made in the wing was under Chip's >belly, and he tried very hard not to imagine what a hole in him that >size would look like. JOEL: Nowak better not tell us, either. > >The Ranger Wing lurched. A pattern of holes appeared in the stabilizer. TOM: And if the Ranger Wing had a stabilizer, that might mean something. > >"They're using bird shot, Monty," Chip yelled out. CROW: [CHIP] Good thing we're not birds. > >"I know. I'll open range a mite." TOM: [MONTY] So they can acquire us on their missile battery. > >They were circling Fat Cat's. Each time a shot came a little too close, JOEL: For comfort, >Monty slipped sideways to increase the radius of their orbit. Chip >gritted his teeth and pulled, slipping the new belt into place. TOM: Chip has a bit of a weight problem. > He >scrambled back into the fuselage. > >"It's not going to work, Monty." JOEL: [CHIP] You can't initiate a fusion reaction at room temperature. > >"Looks good to me," Monty objected, glancing at the propeller. CROW: Monty is excited by propellers. > >"No. The plan won't work." > >"We'll wait for Gadget and Dale to reach the roof. Then we'll let them >fire, and swoop in and get 'em while the bad guys reload. Why, back in >Southeast Asia -" [Everyone groans.] JOEL: Now Monty was flying evac in Vietnam. > >"If Gadget and Dale go on the roof, they'll be caught anyway!" TOM: So to hell with them! JOEL: Notice that Chip forgot to mention someone. CROW: Who? > Chip's >head was throbbing. TOM: The rye whisky he bolted to keep his shattered nerves intact was beginning to catch up to him. > "And those guys down there will probably shoot us >down, and then we're no good to Gadget! JOEL: Or Dale. TOM: Or... what's his name, the moth. > The best we can do is force them >to waste their ammunition on us. TOM: [MONTY] Sounds like a good plan - hey, wait a minute! > They know Gadget will try to leave from >the roof." CROW: [CHIP] She thinks with wings, you know. > >Monty nodded grimly. "I think you're right. Of course, that's why we >prepared the alternate escape plan." TOM: In the event that the first escape plan is unable to fulfill its duties, the alternate.... > >Chip nodded. "Do you think it'll work?" CROW: [MONTY] No, the alternate escape plan was just my little joke. > >"Gadget was very confident," Monty said sadly. > >Chip shook his head, despair engulfing his soul. JOEL: I think he should get a little prize for making it this long. > >Chapter Fifteen : Felines TOM: [singing] Nothing more than felines... > >Gadget crawled out of an upper level window onto the alternate escape >route. CROW: [GADGET] Huh - I thought the alternate escape plan was just Monty's little joke. > >The Hot Wheel track stretching five stories down was painted black on >the bottom, to blend into the sky when viewed from below. It hadn't >been easy to assemble unnoticed by the guards, but Gadget had pulled it >off. CROW: So, actually, she had stuck it on. TOM: Gray mouse. > She lay prone on the race car chassis sitting on top of the track, >held by a single cord. Dale lay on top of her, too worried to enjoy the >situation in the slightest. JOEL: And the envy of every male reader. > >"Ready?" she asked. CROW: Doesn't the guy usually ask that? > >"No," he said honestly. > >A flick of a knife and TOM: Dale's head dropped to the pavement. > they started down. Slowly at first, then they >picked up speed. Dale felt himself growing lighter. JOEL: His diet was working. TOM: And his exercise. JOEL: I can feel it here, and here. > It wasn't a >pleasant feeling. TOM: But time in this warped continuity had made him used to that. > After any time as a Ranger, one quickly learned that >being lighter meant one was approaching the ground with increasing >rapidity. Speed was not a friend when approaching the ground, because >it was hard to steer around that particular obstacle. CROW: Thank you for explaining why falling is bad. TOM: Come on, if Arthur Dent can miss the ground, Dale can certainly do it! > >"It's fifty feet down," Dale gulped. > >"Don't be afraid," Gadget assured him. "It's not quite a record for Hot >Wheel track riding." TOM: I forget - did they ever ride Hot Wheel tracks in the show? JOEL: I can't remember. TOM: And do you suppose Disney had some sort of deal with the Tinkertoy people? CROW: Could be. > >"What's the record?" CROW: [GADGET] "It's a disk of black vinyl, with analog encrypted sound. But that doesn't matter now." > >"Fifty two feet, set by Naughty Knauty at the Inn By The Falls. When he >was trying to jump Wappingers Creek." TOM: In Europe, they'd call that creek a river. > >Dale nodded. He was familiar with the exploits of the darehamster JOEL: I get this terrible mental image of a hamster in a white jumpsuit. TOM: Covered with stars and a big number "1".... CROW: Cool! [Others look at him.] CROW: What is it now? > and >he knew the hotel; next to where Wappingers Creek went over a three >foot concrete embankment. Then doubt set in. JOEL: [DALE] Oh my God, Gadget's driving.... > He had to raise his voice >because the rattling of the track was getting louder. > >"Wasn't that where he set a record for the most broken bones?" > >"He set both at the same -" TOM: Get it? "Set"? "Broken bones"? > >At this point, Dale couldn't hear her any more, which was just as well. > >He wasn't sure if he wanted to watch the sidewalk rush towards them, >but he felt he would have very little time left to watch anything. CROW: That would be Gadget. >There was a sharp jerk JOEL: That would be Dale. > as they leveled out. They were at ground level >and alive. Elation. Until he noticed TOM: Who the author was. > how fast they were moving. The >laws of physics CROW: Nooo! JOEL: Easy, buddy - CROW: When this guy starts talking about physics, pain is not far away. > limited their maximum speed to no more than 30 miles >per hour, but this is fast when you're both close to the ground and a >chipmunk. ALL: [flatly] Too Fast. > He blinked as he saw what was coming up next. He was probably >missing something, TOM: [Sarcasm sequencer] Dale? Nah. > but he couldn't imagine why Gadget put in a loop. TOM: Earth to Dale. The girl doesn't like you. > He >started chanting his mantra against fear: idawannadie idawannadie >idawannadie omommymommymommy... > >After the loop, Dale was beginning to regret not staying behind at Fat >Cat's. JOEL: Now that it looked like he might live, to suffer and endure. > Even after a few banked turns to slow down, they were still >moving with terrifying speed. He consoled himself with the fact the >worst was behind them. JOEL: That cat fight scene was pretty awful, wasn't it? TOM: Speak for yourself. > >"Brace yourself," she shouted. "Here's where I ran out of track." > >The concrete of the sidewalk was smoother than the asphalt of the road, >but less so than the plastic they were leaving behind. As a rule, Hot >Wheel cars do not have good suspension. TOM: Is that a rule? JOEL: Yes - they snuck it in as part of the Family Leave act. > He gritted his teeth. The >vibration just made them hurt worse, but TOM: Pain was becoming a dear friend. > it would be better than biting >his tongue accidentally. > >"I lay the track to keep us on this stretch of sidewalk," Gadget >shouted. "Pretty clever, huh?" CROW: [GADGET] And did I mention how modest I am? > >"Isn't this the way to Cat Alley?" Dale asked. CROW: [Terrified] Wildcat Alley? But - TOM: No. Cat Alley. It's where the cats hang out. It's in the show. No anthropomorphic wolves or hedgehogs. JOEL: What? TOM: After your time. > >"Oh, shoot." CROW: Drawing a Saturday Night Special, Dale complied happily! > >Gadget dragged her toes on the ground to stop the car. Since she didn't >wear shoes, TOM: She'd save on her next pedicure. > she couldn't press hard. CROW: But she felt that maybe her feelings for Foxglove were reciprocated. > She and Dale got up slowly, >looking TOM: Smashing in Jean-Clawed's new fall collection for the funny animal on the go. > around carefully. No cats in obvious sight, but it was dark - >and it was their territory. Broken terrain, lots of things to hide >behind, perfect for a pouncing pelagic predator. ALL: [Guffaw] CROW: No, there's not enough salt water. > >Gadget spun about, JOEL: Faster and faster, until vomit sprayed - CROW: I'm going to remind you of that next time you threaten me with a strike. JOEL: Okay. I'll give myself a strike. > flame thrower ready. "Something's moving." > >"I don't see anything," Dale said dubiously. > >"I'm telling you, something's moving and it ain't us!" JOEL: Aliens reference. TOM: Check. Fanboy meter's reading in the kilogonterman range. > >"Gadget, does the sidewalk seem, uh, furry to you?" Dale asked >worriedly. CROW: [DALE] Or is it the drugs? > >The kitten Dale was standing on flopped over and regarded the new >guests with bright yellow eyes. Its head was about the size of Dale's >whole body. It mewed softly. CROW: And ate them. The end. > >Dale and Gadget looked at one another, in horror. Where there's >kittens, there's... TOM: A kindle. > >Finally, Gadget saw her, past Dale. CROW: Her pulse raced as her blood pounded in ways unfamiliar. A blush spread over her features.... > At first, Gadget thought it was an >optical illusion caused by fear; then she realized the cat was so black >her fur drank what little light there was; to see the cat, you had to >look where light wasn't. TOM: A stealth cat. JOEL: All cats are stealth cats. > Gadget slowly let her gaze move upwards. TOM: [hums overture to "Also Sprach Zarathustra".] > It >was a big beast, ten to fifteen pounds, not the fat weight of a >cosseted house cat but the lean muscles of a cat who was fending for >herself. Fifteen pounds of hunting cat is big. JOEL: If you're a mouse. > The cat was sitting on >her haunches, and had one paw raised menacingly. TOM: I'm getting a mental image of one of those ceramic kitties in the Hunan Wok. JOEL: Oh man... the General Tso's chicken.... CROW: Scallion pancakes. > As Gadget's eyes >rested on the cat's head, CROW: [CAT] Why did you take out your eyes and put them on my head? > the cat opened her mouth; fine, sharp teeth >the same white as Widget's fur flashed in the night. TOM: Ah. The cat's wearing her "Gray" Dentures. > >"Dale," Gadget whispered, "Move slowly behind me and don't look >around." ALL: [Snort] TOM: Yeah, like anyone takes that advice. > >Of course, he looked around. JOEL: Boing! > >Dale broke into a sprint. TOM: Gadget broke into song. [Singing, to "Flying Dreams" from "Secret of NIMH"] Whippoorwills, Escadrilles, Kittens must be fed, Life's a bitch when you're protein-rich, Soon you're dead... > The claws flashed down. Instead of ripping >Dale's flesh, the cat snared his shirt and lifted him off the ground. CROW: How con-veeen-ient! >Arms pinned, Dale and the cat stared at one another. He felt her hot >breath on him. > >"Nice kitty?" Dale asked hopefully. JOEL: [DALE] Tic-tac? > >Gadget slid the handle on the flame thrower smoothly, holding the >weapon steady. A mighty yellow flame, eighteen inches long, roared out >of the cigarette lighter. TOM: For the remainder of this scene, Gadget will be played by Sigourney Weaver. Thank you. > The sudden light illuminated several very >startled cats, heretofore invisible. The tip of the flame brushed >against the fur of a cat on a garbage can, who made the same yell Goofy >makes when falling from a height and leapt away, TOM: That really doesn't work in text. JOEL: Nope. > giving the flames no >chance to catch. Gadget didn't blink; she kept her eyes, narrow and >hard, on the cat holding Dale. CROW: [GADGET] I know what you're thinking. Did she use 999 lights, or 1000? Well, seeing that this is a high-capacity Cricket.... > >It got her attention. JOEL: No duh. > >Gadget snarled. "Get away from him, you... you..." She lowered the >flame thrower to cover the kittens. JOEL: A blanket would be more diplomatic, Gadget. TOM: I'm trying to get a mental image of this, but I just keep seeing Gadget in a bikini on the cover of a direct-to-video movie by Andy Sidaris. CROW: Hey, put it on the Web. > >The cat laughed lightly, twisting her gape-jawed Teeth of Doom into a >happy, innocent smile. She put Dale down, CROW: [CAT] You've got too much cholesterol to be health food. > and for good measure, TOM: Used a vernier accurate to fifty microns! > patted >him on the head while chuckling nervously. > >The cats gave them a wide berth as they walked through Cat Alley. A few >smiled at them. > >"Ain't we gonna eat 'em, Ma?" asked a kitten. > >"No, Mughi," JOEL: Dirty Pair reference. TOM: Check. > his mother explained. "Hot food isn't good for you." Cats >are good at saving face. > >"Uh, Gadget?" Dale asked. "You were just bluffing about the kittens. >Like me with Jürgen. Right?" TOM: Please say yes. > >The Blonde Mouse smiled. Dale blanched and had nightmares for weeks. [Silence.] TOM: Uhm. CROW: Well.... JOEL: Uhm. > >=== > TOM: I'd say something, but I'm just too depressed. >Monty, Chip, and Zipper weren't able to find Gadget and Dale until they >spotted Gadget's flame thrower shot. TOM: [CHIP] Flame thrower. CROW: [MONTY] Must be Gadget, by g'day. > After they were picked up, TOM: Picked up? By this story? Don't be crazy. > Monty >insisted on leaving the flame thrower behind. TOM: Where children could find it. CROW: Vwoosh! JOEL: AAAugh! TOM: You killed Kenny! > Gadget had not mentioned >she was taking it along. This soon developed into an argument, which TOM: Is probably out of character, but by now nobody noticed. >Gadget thought she was winning until Dale drew Monty's attention to the >lump on her face. CROW: [MONTY] It's called a nose, Dale. Most people have 'em. > After this, Monty refused to be drawn; he was JOEL: On strike against the story. TOM: Good. > too >distracted and said nothing harsher than "'Ush, Gadget luv." CROW: While slapping her around with a bar of soap in a towel. > Gadget >felt cheated of a victory when the argument fizzled. JOEL: Yeah, Gadget's very argumentative. > >Monty insisted on taking Gadget straight to her bed when they landed. JOEL: Don't. CROW: Too obvious. >Gadget would have put up an argument, but JOEL: A glimmer of her personality was raised in her subconscious, a memory of a time she knew joy and loved life. > when she tried to stand up >out of her seat she found to her surprise that sharp agony flashed >through her TOM: Broken, shattered soul. > back and leg. She dropped into her seat, not sure if she >was frightened more by the pain or the sheer surprise of it. JOEL: Did that parse? TOM: I didn't try. Joel, please make it stop! > She didn't >resist when Monty lifted her into his arms and carried her, or even >when he tucked her in. CROW: Or when his hands moved softly over her ... aw, heck. > >"Chip's gone for a doctor, Gadget luv," Monty told her. JOEL: [MONTY] We're 'aving you committed. > "Then 'e'll >drop Dale's tape off at the newspaper. CROW: [MARSHA BRADY] Dale's gonna be famous! > Uncle Monty's going to fix you >something for dinner." TOM: [MONTY] With some yummy Prozac cookies for desert. > >"Thanks, Monty," she hesitated. "Monty," she said sincerely, "I'm sorry >I yelled at you." > >Monty shrugged. "Gadget, when you get scared or you're in a fight, you >do and say things you normally wouldn't. JOEL: [MONTY] Not that you have in any of the countless times your life's been at risk before. >B'lieve me, I know what it's >like. There was this time on Zanzibar--" TOM: Guys, let me. [MONTY] I was standin' there. JOEL: Very subtle. > >Amazingly, he cut himself off. JOEL: Saving Gadget the trouble. > >"I don't think I need a doctor," she complained. TOM: Normally, I'd agree, but this being the Nowakverse and all.... > >"Gadget, your sister didn't tap ya in th' jaw. JOEL: [MONTY] Like this. [Pretends to smack TOM.] TOM: [GADGET] Ow! Golly! > She 'it you in the 'ead >with a motorized, stainless steel blackjack. JOEL: [MONTY] Like this. [Pretends to smack TOM.] TOM: [GADGET] Aieee!! > Jes' 'cause she uses it >like a hand don't change that. You ain't your Uncle Monty. You got >somethin' fragile in your skull." > >She laughed, and gave him a big hug. CROW: [GADGET] Thank you for acknowledging my mental superiority. > "I love you so much, Monty," she >said. He held her lightly, afraid to hurt her. She buried her face in >his chest and started crying. > >"Aw, Gadget, luv," he said gently. "What's this about?" > >"I don't know," she said, [All sigh.] TOM: [GADGET] Maybe it's meeting my sister, discovering she's a loon.... CROW: [GADGET] Who's trying to kill my dearest and only friends.... JOEL: [GADGET] And being forced to kill her first. ALL: [GADGET] Maybe that's what has me all grumpy. > and immediately contradicted herself. "I was >just thinking what it would be like if I didn't have you." TOM: [GADGET] To feel superior to. > >"Or didn't know your dad?" CROW: [GADGET] No, I envy Widget that bit. > >"Or didn't know my dad." > >"Who you cryin' for, Gadget?" TOM: [GADGET] Anyone who's reading this.... [TOM breaks down for a moment. JOEL pats him on the back to comfort him.] > >He tousled her hair and she grinned, suppressing a flinch when his >powerful hands TOM: Reminded her of those secret visits in her childhood -- > came too close to a bump on the back of her head. He >smiled at her and walked out. She changed into her nightgown, washed >her face, and went back to bed. CROW: Its single pillow mocking her. > >=== > >"You know the way to Gadget's room, don't you, Doctor?" CROW: [DOCTOR] Do I ever! > Chip asked. The >audio tape was still in the back seat of the Ranger Wing. "I've got to >deliver this tape." TOM: [CHIP] It was due last week, and ten cents a day adds up. > >"Sure," Dr. Skinner agreed. She bounced out of the Wing, trying not to >look as nauseous as she felt. TOM: When she recognized which twisted continuity she was inhabiting. > She and Monty exchanged nods as she >walked around the huge mouse and went into the tree. JOEL: I guess that blows your theory, Crow. CROW: http://www.geocities.com/TelevisionCity/3936/raingold1.html. TOM: God, I wish we could be reading that instead. > >"You'll be comin' right back after you drop that off?" Monty asked, >pretending it was a question. CROW: [MONTY] Yer mum's worried about ya. Yer grades are slippin', you stay out all hours of th' night.... > >Chip looked up from his preflight check. "I don't think so," he said >with a firm, negative shake of his head. "I have work to do." TOM: Right, he's probably going down to the Acorn Club. > >Monty nodded, uncomfortably. He still wasn't entirely ready to admit >that maybe Gadget was old enough to form connections different from and >perhaps stronger than the ones he had with her. CROW: Monty's vision is going. > "Well, mate," he said >slowly, "I think maybe you should put that off a bit. I think Gadget >needs a little help tonight." TOM: [MONTY] You scored an A in Geography, and she's worried about tomorrow's test. > >Chip's face fell blank, confused. "Yes," he said. "I know." JOEL: [CHIP] But I don't care. > >=== > >Dr. Skinner tapped her patient lightly on her lower back. > >"Ouch," Gadget said. > >"Did that hurt?" Skinner asked with a smile. CROW: Doctor Skinner has the bedside manner of a hungry shark. > Skinner was a white lab >rat, who had attended a Human medical school. With the help of the >Rescue Rangers, she had narrowly escaped being part of a lesson. [ALL wince.] CROW: You've heard of darkness before dawn? Welcome to darkness before darkness. > >"Just a little. Kind of sharp. How am I?" CROW: [SKINNER] Just great, honey. > >"I think you're a healthy young woman who's been well and truly worked >over. But you can stay here if you promise to stay in bed for three >days." CROW: [SKINNER] With me. > >"I promise." TOM: [GADGET] To lower taxes - > >"I have spies. First time you leave this room, it's the hospital for >you. Understand?" CROW: [GADGET] Uhm, what about necessities? > >Gadget grinned. "Curses." TOM: Whoa, language! JOEL: At least she's laughing. TOM: Only because she's bedridden. > >"Ice packs for the swelling, and I'll leave some Tylenol 3 if the pain >keeps you from sleeping. TOM: [SKINNER] Since we're in this continuity, I'll leave a train car full. > I've got to get going - there's been some sort >of riot at Fat Cat's Casino." She grinned. CROW: This doctor really enjoys the pain of others. > "Ever pull rubber cement out >of fur?" > >"I'll bet it hurts." Gadget looked innocent and solemn. > >The doctor grinned. "If you do it right." CROW: [SKINNER] Ah, the discomfort of patients. Tee hee! JOEL: It's nice to know that at least Fat Cat's casino has the same HMO plan that the Rangers do. Same doctor, and all. > She shouldered her black bag >and left. > >A moment later, Dale knocked and came in, carrying a bowl. TOM: [DALE] It's from Nowak - a big bowl of despair! Drink deep, little mouse. > She smelled >vegetable broth. She heaved a sigh of relief. TOM: Usually, the only thing Dale cooked were Spaghetti-Os. > >"Hi, Gadget," Dale said. "Thought you'd like something without cheese." JOEL: [DALE] It's not like you're a mouse or something. > >"Yes, thanks," she said, as he set up a tray. She started eating. At >first, she was being polite; TOM: Then, the monster came out. > after a few bites, she felt ravenous. Dale >sat on her bed. JOEL: What is it with all these men sitting on the beds of unmarried women - I say we boycott this filth! > >"Thanks for rescuing me," Dale said. CROW: [GADGET] I guess I did, didn't I? Shoot. > >"It's my job," she winked. "Glad to help. Thanks for stopping the >fight." TOM: [GADGET] It was obvious they had no business being in the same ring. > >"I'm glad I'm not Widget." CROW: [GADGET] Uhm, right, Dale. I'm glad you're not Widget either. So.... > >"I wish I were," Gadget snapped, spooning up broth angrily. JOEL: [GADGET] I've always wanted to be a nutcase. > "I don't >know what it looked like from the outside, but Widget was taking me >apart. If you hadn't stopped it, I'd be a chunky sandwich spread. As it >is, I wonder how I kept going." TOM: [GADGET] And when I look at my life, why I kept going? Sweet oblivion, I embrace thee... > >"Adrenaline's funny that way." JOEL: [DALE] It's the wacky hormone! > Dale paused. "Why are you so angry?" [Pause.] TOM: [confused] Wha -? CROW: Oh, Dale does this every time after listening to Dr. Laura.... > >Gadget stopped eating. "Dale, she tried to kill us all." JOEL: Uh, yeah, Dale. > >"So have other people," he made a casual gesture. "I never saw you take >a flame thrower to Professor Nimnul." > >She shrugged, TOM: [GADGET] That was when I was in character. > and started eating again. JOEL: The bowl was empty, though. TOM: That might explain how she keeps her figure. > >"Of course, Nimnul's never threatened your father." > >Gadget looked up. "My father's dead, Dale." TOM: [GADGET] I saw to that. > >"Exactly," he nodded, pleased. TOM: The test subject was reacting exactly as Dale's doctorate predicted. > "He's just memories now. Yours, other >people's." TOM: Oh, he's a Kantian Materialist. CROW: I say he's a Logical Positivist. JOEL: He's all these things and more. > >"Widget doesn't threaten my memories of my father," Gadget muttered. JOEL: [DALE] Ah, but she does if you have a glimmer of doubt about how she ended up in the river. I think we should continue here next week. > >"Agreed," Dale nodded easily. "That brings us back to the start. Why >are you so angry?" TOM: I say she's angry at her sister for refusing to be her sister. CROW: I say she envies Widget's liberation from bourgeoisie morality. JOEL: I say her personality's being mangled by a hack. > >Gadget shrugged again. TOM: [GADGET] Look, I'm just not into this self-analysis trip. > >"Gadget, you threatened kittens. That's not like you. Where did it come >from?" > >"I don't know," she said tiredly. "It just came out." TOM: From the... negaverse! > >"You suppose you could send it back?" Dale asked lightly. JOEL: [GADGET] But I lost the original packing material.... > >She glared at him. "Good thing it did or you'd be dead," she snarled. CROW: [DALE] But death is a lover we must all embrace. > >"Possibly," Dale agreed. "Isn't that a picture of Widget?" he asked, >pointing. "I never noticed it before." > >"Where -" Gadget asked, shocked. He was pointing at a mirror. She >gritted her teeth. "Get out." > >"Gadget, sometimes we hate what we see in ourselves -" TOM: Oh, I get it. She's identifying herself with Widget and sees her sister as herself giving in to The Dark Side. Thus, she's projecting her own fear of losing self control onto her sister. JOEL: I like my explanation better. > >"Get out!" > >Dale walked over to the door obediently. He turned back and nodded, >expression innocent. "It's a terrifying likeness," he chirped. TOM: Get me out of here. Now. [1 ... 2 ... 3 ... 4 ... 5 ... 6 ... SoL] [TOM SERVO is alone on the main set of the Satellite of Love. He holds a TV remote in his inoperable little hand and watches a TV monitor, turned so the camera can see it. It shows a brief scene from the Rescue Rangers episode "Three Men and a Booby": Gadget meets a dejected Mrs. Booby for the first time, walks up to her, gently takes one of Mrs. Booby's feather-digits in her hand and strokes it tenderly, saying "How can we help you?" with a voice and eyes filled with sympathy. Then the screen rewinds to the beginning of the scene and it replays itself. After the first time the scene has played, a concerned JOEL walks in with CROW. CROW is visibly nervous.] CROW: [stage whisper] I'm telling you, he just keeps watching this over and over. He's scaring me. JOEL: Thanks, Crow. Tom, what are you doing? [short pause as TOM ignores him] CROW: Bubble Boy needs a cold reboot. Can I do it? JOEL: Crow - no. Tom, why don't you tell me what's wrong? TOM: [mechanically, horrified] I... I... JOEL: [encouraging] That's it, Tommy - talk to me and I'll help it feel better. TOM: [bewildered] I... just don't see it. I'm trying so hard, but I just don't see it... JOEL: See what, Tom? TOM: The angst! JOEL: [nods] Oh. CROW: What? JOEL: It's this fanfic. Tom's having problems with the author's take on Gadget. TOM: I watch this, and see a gentle angel in mouse form. I just don't... see the festering abyss of Hell! CROW: Look, Joel, it's really simple. All I have to do is hold down the control, alt and del buttons at the same time, and - TOM: I mean - how does he look into those eyes and see the rage and hate of a woman who could point a flamethrower at her own sister? I just don't... JOEL: [tries to laugh it off] Tom, Tom, you're taking this way too seriously. We're talking about someone who gave mice zip guns. CROW: Yeah! Although that Calvert joke was pretty funny. (Chuckles) TOM: [laughs] Yeah, I'll go along with you on that. "Calvert." JOEL: [glances at CROW, puzzled] Huh? [GYPSY appears on the set, bobbing excitedly.] GYPSY: Calvert? Richard Basehart? [CROW turns to GYPSY.] CROW: No, just a James Calvert joke. [JOEL looks befuddled. CROW continues, sarcastically, to JOEL.] US Navy? Retired Rear Admiral? GYPSY: [disappointed] Oh. JOEL: I've never heard of... GYPSY: I thought everyone's heard of James Calvert. JOEL: [looks balefully at GYPSY] Uh... right. James Calvert. [Pretends to recognize the reference] But the point, Tom, is that this author is, uh... CROW: One weird mammajamma. JOEL: Right. So don't be surprised that his view of the world reflects the darkness of his soul. TOM: I mean, he keeps drawing parallels between Widget and Gadget and ... well, is the story a metaphor for the hatred people direct at themselves? JOEL: Oh, I don't think so. CROW: But I've got to agree with you, Tom, this story really is a bummer. JOEL: Right. It is that. CROW: The way they just ... reject love and embrace the hate. JOEL: Uh... CROW: [voice choked] I... mean... why can't they just... get along? JOEL: Crow? [CROW shudders, and starts weeping. He falls on TOM, who begins to sob.] JOEL: Guys, guys! It's just one person's distorted view of a gentle and sweet character. He's wrong. That's all. TOM: But... what if he isn't? [Pause. The others look uncomfortable. The TV finishes the scene and stops.] TOM: I mean, what if he's right? What if... [TV brings up a tight close up of Gadget, smiling angelically]... this face is a mask over the raging inferno of Hell? CROW: The Hell we all carry within us? TOM: What if families really are like that? CROW: All we know is what laughing boy over here programmed us with.... [The bots eyeball JOEL suspiciously. JOEL looks worried.] GYPSY: We could just ask him. JOEL: Ask who? [Gizmonics Lab. We see FRANK talking to JOHN, a guy who ideally has glasses, dark curly hair, a mustache, and wears rumpled business casual with a white shirt, but who probably looks a lot like Mike Nelson. JOHN nods periodically and makes entries into a PalmPilot. FRANK is wearing a PalmPilot case on his hip] JOHN: So none of this is actually documented? FRANK: Well, Doctor F. believes in maintaining a strong team and keeping his people happy. I've only been here three years, and I'm already making $5.75 an hour. JOHN: [Looks up from his palmtop.] You're making five dollars and seventy five cents an hour? [FRANK's chest swells with pride through the next part while JOHN watches in blank disbelief.] FRANK: Well, John, what with your being new and all, I guess I should tell you a raise is not so much about the money as it is about how it shows how much you're respected and appreciated. JOHN: I was just thinking that. (Dr. FORRESTER appears suddenly, in the foreground.) FORRESTER: Ah, my little lab rats. Our invention exchange was a little late this morning because of a new quality initiative our latest hire's working on. [FORRESTER folds his arms and goes into lecture mode.] As you know, objective metrics are the cornerstone of any modern attempt at process improvement. [FRANK pushes himself in front of JOHN.] FRANK: So I've been wearing a special time tracking tool on my belt. [SoL] JOEL: Gee, that doesn't sound particularly evil. [GIZMONICS] FORRESTER: Ah, but this one tells the truth. [FRANK looks suddenly nervous as JOHN extracts the device from FRANK's belt and looks at the screen, reading with a sadistic glint in his eyes. FORRESTER looks more and more angry as he goes on.] JOHN: Eating powdered donuts, forty five minutes, ten seconds. Thinking about powdered donuts, two hours, fifteen minutes. Staring blankly into space, one hour, eight minutes. Trying to impress the new guy, three hours even. Thinking about sex, eight seconds. [SoL] JOEL: Wow. That is evil. [GIZMONICS] FORRESTER: Frank, we have an appointment. [FORRESTER takes FRANK by the ear and tows him away, while FRANK whimpers. JOHN is left alone.] JOHN: Gypsy, the Doctor's asked me to document some of the Satellite of Love's operations procedures. I was wondering if we could talk about that? [SoL] GYPSY: Sure. What would you like to know? JOEL: [Stage whisper to T&C] Right, let's see if we can get him on our side. Don't let him know he's a weirdo. TOM: Roger. [GIZMONICS] JOHN: What? [SoL] JOEL: Nothing. So, John, have you seen the project plan for the experiment I'm in? [GIZMONICS: JOHN holds a printout. The cover page reads "PROJECT MEDIA MINDCRACK."] JOHN: Sure. We send you really bad films and fanfics until your will is shattered. [SoL] JOEL: [Pause, and continue uncertainly] And... don't you see anything wrong with this? [GIZMONICS] [JOHN looks up, angrily.] JOHN: Of course I do. [SoL: Hope begins to emerge on the faces of J&TB] [GIZMONICS] JOHN: Shattering your will isn't explicitly defined in objective terms. The requirements are too vague. [SoL] CROW: [Matter of fact] I hate you. [JOEL holds CROW's beak shut.] JOEL: I meant ethically. [GIZMONICS] JOHN: [Snort] I'm a veteran of Corporate America. Ethics are irrelevant. [SoL] TOM: This brings new insight to your story. [GIZMONICS] [JOHN frowns.] JOHN: They sent you _Under the Bridge?_ [SoL] TOM: What gives with this lurid little tale? CROW: Why'd you inflict it on the world, Dark Dilbert? [JOEL clamps CROW's mouth shut.] GYPSY: I guess it's not self-insertion. [GIZMONICS] JOHN: No, Gypsy. Basically, writing's been a hobby of mine for a long time, and I wanted a change to write something lighter and more fun than what I usually - [SoL: Bots scream in unison.] JOEL: Get thee behind me, Dark One! [GIZMONICS] JOHN: [perplexed] What? [SoL] [JOEL embraces the sobbing bots.] [Cut to: GIZMONICS. Dr. FORESTER beams happily into the camera, FRANK at his side. Without a word, they give one another a triumphant hi-five.]