-- Chapter 1: Old Hopes -- Hush now don't you cry Wipe away the teardrop from your eye You're lying safe in bed It was all a bad dream spinning...in your head I tricked you to feel the pain Of someone close to you leaving the game...of life So here it is, another chance Wide awake, you face the day Your dream is over...or has it just begun? "Silent Lucidity" -- Queensryche "Well, mates, me dad should be here any second." Monterey checked the clock. "Sure will be good to see him again." "Hmm-mm," Chip nodded absently. He was barely aware of his surroundings, much less listening to Monterey. He leaned back on the couch and continued to plow through the Sheerluck Jones novel he was reading while Monterey paced eagerly in front of the door. "How long is he staying, Monty?" Dale asked, bringing some chips and fruit out to the table. "Just for tonight, lad." Monterey sighed. "I wish he could stay longer." "Hmm-mm," Chip mumbled distractedly. "Golly, Monty," Gadget looked up from the set of wires she was working with. "How come he's here for such a short time?" "Oh, he wasn't plannin' on comin' this way originally." Monterey walked over to the table and grabbed a piece of cheddar. "But a change in plans a few months back resulted in him having a layover in town for the night. So he figured he'd drop by, chew the fat, and then be on his way in the mornin'." He took a bite of cheese before continuing. "He'll probably stop by for a longer visit in a couple of years." "Well, it was nice of him to take the extra step to come and visit," Gadget mentioned, sorting out the wires. "It should be a very relaxing evening for us, just sitting around and talking." "Hmm-mm," Chip responded subconsciously. "Well, I, for one, am looking forward to this," Dale grinned and plopped down in the pincushion they used as a recliner. "More tales of daring do, awesome adventures, and...and...um..." He thought for moment. "Oh rats! I can't think of anything else. And I was doing so well, too." Indeed, Zipper nodded. You've come a long way in your verbal vanguards. Dale smiled back to Zipper. "Thanks Zip." Dale and Zipper had been working on their alliterations ever since their encounter with Darkwing. They saw it as a way of keeping in touch with their extradimensional fellow crimefighter. "Well, this time dad won't be the only one with the impressive adventures." Monty nudged Dale and Zipper. "Right mates? We've got one or two of our own." "You got that right," Dale grinned and grabbed an apple slice. "Hmm-mm," Chip muttered, oblivious. A set of thumps from outside alerted the Rangers to someone walking up to the door. A moment later the door was jarred by several strong knocks. "Monty, me lad! Ya in there?" Cheddarhead called through the door. "Dad!" Monterey grinned and leapt over to the door. He opened it wide, and greeted his father with a big bear hug. "Good to see you!" Cheddarhead tossed his duffle bag aside, and the father and son team proceeded to go through their customary greeting: a couple of high-fives, an elbow smash, and then a dance while singing the third verse from "Cheese Wheels". "Mmm." Chip turned the next page. "How's everyone doin' here?" Cheddarhead grinned around at the group. "Been busy with crackin' crimes and cases?" "You might say that," Dale smiled innocently. Zipper nudged him and winked. "How was the flight in, Dad?" Monterey picked up his father's duffle bag and headed off to put it in Cheddarhead's room for the night. "Ah, long, but what else can ya expect? Still, it least it was interestin' enough. Was on an albatross. Guy couldn't fly straight no matter which way the wind was blowin'. And don't even ask about the landin'. Nice enough bloke, though. Think he was called Wilfred, or William. Somethin' like that." "Do you want anything to drink?" Gadget asked, setting the wires down. "We had started to bring the refreshments out here, but hadn't gotten to the drinks yet." She pointed to the chips and fruit. "Well, that's right sweet of ya, my dear. Sure, I could wet me whistle before tellin' ya about the latest in the life and times of Cheddarhead Charlie!" He grinned as they led him into the kitchen. They continued to chat with him as they went, leaving Chip behind on the couch by himself, still reading his book. "Uh-huh," he mentioned to nobody in particular. The rest of the Rangers and Cheddarhead reemerged from the kitchen, bringing a set of cups and a pitcher of lemonade. They brought the food over to the couch, and everyone sat down for leisurely chat. Even Chip finally put his book down, mainly because he knew it would be extremely rude to continue reading when they were sitting right next to him. The sun slowly set, and soon the moon was out. It was another beautiful, clear night, with all of the stars out in attendance. The Rangers and Cheddarhead were still talking heartily. They had turned on some of the lights, but not all of them, so they could still see the stars out of the window. "Blimey!" Cheddarhead announced as Monterey finished his story. "Another dimension? Blimey, that's weird!" (Cheddarhead said the word "Blimey" 134 times during the story, but who's counting?) Yeah, Zipper nodded. Weird, but fun. Still, I don't think I'd want to go through it again anytime soon. "Although it would be nice to see Darkwing again," Dale added. "The mysterious mighty masked mallard." He nodded to himself at the completion of a successful alliteration. "Yeah, you would've liked him, Dad," Monterey smiled. "A real man--er, duck--of action. Always jumpin' right into the thick of things." "But he still planned things out," Chip commented, munching on a grape. "Usually." "Usually." Gadget grinned. "Well," Cheddarhead grabbed another piece of cheese, "looks like ya blokes beat me in the adventure department for the year. I'm gonna have ta pull some major adventures ta catch up." "What've you got planned for the year, Dad?" Monterey asked. "Well, lad, I'm headed off ta Canada next. I'll be going over ta Ontario first, then work me way across the country until I reach British Columbia. Then I think I'll pop down ta South America. Stop by Venezuela for a bit. Then, catch a flight back ta Japan...." He trailed off for a moment. "Oh crikey! I nearly forgot! Hang on mates, be right back." The rugged mouse hopped up and made a quick trot to his room. The Rangers just looked at each other for a minute. Cheddarhead came back a few minutes later, holding a letter in his hand. He walked over and presented it to Gadget, much to her surprise. "Here ya are, my dear," he said as she took it. "While I was in Japan some mouse asked me ta give this ta ya." "What?" Chip asked. "Somebody just gave you a letter to give to Gadget, Dad?" Monterey looked at the letter. "Right you are, lad," Cheddarhead nodded. "Was in a tavern, and was talkin' to the barkeep about you blokes, and well, this mouse perks up and asks if I'll be seein' you soon. I says I is, and so he gives me this letter ta give ta Gadget. Popular little miss, for sure." He leaned over and elbowed Chip with a grin. "Ain't that right, mate?" "Yeah..." Chip replied, more interested in the letter. "Golly, this is exciting!" Gadget grinned as she turned the letter over in her hands a few times. "And look at this wax seal! Just like an old feudal system, where the families had crests to show who was loyal to which house." She proudly displayed the seal to everyone as she talked, then carefully broke the seal, opened the letter, and began to read. And her smile quickly changed to a look of disbelief. Before anyone could ask her, Gadget jumped to her feet and ran to her room, slamming the door behind her. Back in the living room, everyone was silent for a moment. What was *that* all about? Zipper looked to the others for ideas. Dale shrugged in response. "Something to do with the letter, I guess." "Dad," Monterey stepped up to his father, both of them looking after Gadget. "Do you have any idea what that was about?" Cheddarhead shook his head. "No clue, lad. Like I said, a mouse, nice enough bloke, gave it ta me. I forgot all about until just now." "What could it be?" Chip stroked his chin. "Well, more importantly, how did this mouse know of us?" "Rangers are world famous, mates," Cheddarhead answered assuredly. "Global heros and all." "Thanks, but I doubt we're *that* well known." Chip stood up. "I mean, maybe we have some friends in various cities, but I doubt some remote tavern in Japan is one of them." "Well, Chipper, we have been to Japan a few times," Monterey offered. "Maybe somebody remembers us." "Or remembers Gadget, anyway," Dale clarified. "But if it's just someone she met over there, what could he write about in that letter that would upset Gadget like that?" "I don't know, Dale," Chip answered. "But I do know that we can stand here and speculate all we want. Unfortunately, that's all it is: speculation." He sighed, then walked over to the fruit, picking it up. "I'm putting this back in the fridge, then I'm going to bed. Maybe Gadget will be ready to talk in the morning." The rest nodded, no longer really interested in conversation. They turned out the lights without saying a word, bid each other brief goodnights, and went to bed. Zipper lay back in his bed, but didn't feel like sleeping. He was worried about Gadget. He waited for a few minutes, listening to the silence that covered the headquarters. Then he quietly crept out of bed, left his room, and crossed the living room to the hallway that led to the rest of the bedrooms. He didn't want to make any noise, so he refrained from flying. Instead, he crept down the hallway, keeping a watchful eye for anyone coming out from the rooms farther down the hallway. The coast was clear. He stepped up to Gadget's doorway, holding his breath, and put his head against the door. The faint sounds of crying seeped through. It wrenched at his heart to hear Gadget weep, alone in the dark. So, he took a chance and tried the door. A gentle shove showed that Gadget had locked it. Unwilling to give up, Zipper carefully crawled up the door to the doorknob. Hanging on to it, he slipped his small hand in between the door and doorframe, until he felt the locking mechanism. A few deft flicks of his wrist, and the door unlocked with a soft click. Still hanging on to the doorknob, he pushed against the door frame and rode the door as it swung in slightly. He was expecting Gadget to be angry with him, but she was too absorbed in her emotions to notice the fly. The room was dark, but Zipper's eyes quickly adjusted. He dropped to the floor and carefully shut the door behind him, trying to be as quiet as possible. In all honesty, Zipper felt awkward about doing this. He knew Chip and Dale would never think of violating the sanctity of Gadget's room, but Gadget was like the sister Zipper never had. She had always been there for him whenever he was feeling bad, and he felt the least he could do was to try and help her, even if all she needed was a shoulder to cry on. Gadget was lying face-down on the bed, hugging her pillow tight, still crying. In one hand she clutched the letter fiercely. Zipper carefully walked across the floor, then finally flew up to light upon her shoulder. Gadget slowly turned to see who it was, her eyes red and puffy. "Oh, Zipper," she said, her voice ragged from the emotional waterfall that was cascading over her. "It can't be...it can't!" She tried to shout it, but her weak voice broke. Zipper leaned down and hugged Gadget. He buzzed reassuringly to her, trying to calm her down. Zipper was no medical expert, but even he could see she was on the brink of emotional hysteria. Gadget swallowed hard, coughed, and took a few deep breaths. "It just can't be...it can't...." Zipper got the distinct impression that Gadget was talking more to herself, just using his presence as an excuse to speak her mind. Still, if that's all she needed him for, then that's what he would do. He patted her on the back softly, letting her know someone was near. She nodded, understanding despite the haze she was in. "I just don't know what to believe. I thought I had gotten over it all. So many things had changed. I had come to accept that..." Her eyes slowly closed, and her breathing became more regular. Zipper knew she was falling asleep. "But I always wished for another chance," she continued in a low murmur. "To tell him all the things that I never got around to...I always figured there would be time...then, there wasn't anymore time...he was gone...but now, that's changed ...if it's true...." Finally, weariness overcame her, and she peacefully sank into a deep sleep, worn out from her tears. Zipper gently flew off of her back, down to the floor. He grabbed some cloth she had over in a corner and used it for a make-shift blanket. As he covered her up, he noticed that her other hand was also clutching something tightly. It was the photo of her father. The morning sun brought with it the promise of another perfect day. From his spot in the kitchen, Monterey looked out the window at the park. Joggers were moving about, more resting than actually jogging, he noted with a smile. He stirred the batter to the pancakes a bit more, then started pouring it onto the skillet. Cheddarhead was at the kitchen table, reading over some newspaper clippings. "How long before your flight leaves, Dad?" Monterey wasn't sure how many pancakes to make. "I should be on me way," Cheddarhead sighed. "But I want ta see if Gadget's all right first." Monterey nodded. "Me too, Dad." Chip stepped into the kitchen, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. "Morning, guys." He rubbed his hands together, then looked at them with a nervous look. "Is Gadget up yet?" They shook their heads, and Chip nodded. He didn't think she'd be bouncing up early, considering how she acted last night. He sat down at the table and absent- mindedly drummed his fingers across the table. Dale stumbled in a few minutes later, bleary-eyed and droopy-tailed. "Nhg," he greeted everyone, his vocal chords not awake enough to verbalize a more formal sentence structure. Monterey nodded with a smile. "Have a seat, Dale. I'll have some get-up-and-go food for you in a minute." "Thn," Dale answered and practically collapsed in his chair. Monterey flipped the pancakes over a few times, making sure each side was golden brown, but not burnt. Once all of them were ready, he skillfully flipped them over onto the serving tray, covering them with syrup and butter as he did. Gathering up a set of plates in the other hand, he stepped over to the table with breakfast just as Zipper lightly flew in and sat down near the end of the table. "Just in time, Zip," Monterey mentioned as he passed out the plates. "Help yourselves, everyone. I made plenty, just in case it's gonna be a busy day." Everyone was beginning to pile on the pancakes, when a throat clearing got their attention. Looking around, they spotted the source: Gadget, standing timidly in the doorway. Her eyes were still a little red, but the color had returned to her cheeks. "Um..." she started. "Excuse me, Mr. Cheddarhead, but where exactly did you say you got this letter?" Cheddarhead thought for a moment. "It was at a small tavern up on the north face of Mount Ufoolu. About thirty miles up the trail. Don't think it had a name, ta be honest." "How would I get there?" If Cheddarhead had an answer, it was drowned out by the rest of the group asking questions. "Go there!?" "You're going to Japan?!" "Gadget-luv, you can't be serious!" "Quiet!" Gadget commanded, a little more forcefully than she would have liked. "I'm sorry, but I can't hear Mr. Cheddarhead." "Well," Cheddarhead thought carefully for a moment, "I suppose yer best bet would be ta go ta the city of Mihiushi, at the base of the mountain, and then just set out on the northern trail. That's the way I went, anyway. Like I said, about thirty miles up the trail is where I remember the tavern. I could be a mile or two off, but it's right next ta the trail. Can't miss it." Gadget nodded, memorizing every word he said. "Got it. Thanks," She gave an honest smile, then walked over towards the table, grabbing a plate as she passed by the counter. As everyone remained silent, and unmoving for that matter, Gadget sat down at the table, and began moving some pancakes over to her plate. She began to eat, and even took a few bites before she realized that everyone was still watching her. "What?" She asked honestly. "Is my hair sticking out funny?" "No, Gadget-luv, we...uh..." Monterey started. "We were just...you know...wondering..." Chip continued. "About...uh...about what happened...um..." Dale kept the indecisiveness going. "We were wonderin' what `appened last night that caused ya ta run like a frightened joey to yer room," Cheddarhead stated bluntly. The rest of the guys grimaced at the directness of the question, but Gadget didn't seem to be offended. "Oh, that," she nodded sadly and sighed. "I...I just have to think about it some more. I'll tell you guys soon enough, I promise, but I have to make a decision first." The rest of the Rangers exchanged glances. They didn't like the way she stated that. Especially after asking about how to get to Japan. "Well, let me know next time I see ya." Cheddarhead woofed down the rest of his pancakes and tipped his hat politely to the Rangers. "Thanks for `aving me, and I'm glad ta see that ya," he nodded to Gadget, "are feelin' better. But I gotta run if I'm gonna make that flight." "I'll see you to the door, Dad." Monterey stood up, sad to see his dad leave, but glad for an excuse to leave the awkward moment in the kitchen. They walked out to the front door, their conversation getting quieter, until the Rangers were left with silence again. Gadget didn't seem to notice it. She was thinking things over as she ate, viewing the situation from all possible angles. She thoughtfully gazed out of the windows at the green leaves shifting in the light breeze. Chip, Dale, and Zipper all kept their focus on their plates, not wanting to look up and run the risk of disturbing Gadget in her reverie. This continued for the remainder of the meal, until Gadget finished hers and stood up. "I'm going to my room for a little bit," she announced as she put her dishes in the sink. "I'll be in there for a while, if anyone needs me." The others nodded, still not sure what to say. They watched as she calmly walked back out into the hallway. They turned to each other, wanting to say something, but realizing that they had nothing to say. "Well, mates," Monterey said as he walked back in, "me Dad gives his regards, and hopes to stop back for a longer visit in a while." He sat down and started to pile some pancakes onto his plate, then realized that the others were done eating, so he merely pulled the whole serving tray over. "How's Gadget?" The unified response was a shrug. Finally, Chip spoke up. "She said she's going to be in her room for a little bit." Dale nodded. "Hopefully she'll explain about what last night was all about when she comes back out." Zipper nodded, although he had a hunch as to what it was. But, he decided to keep quiet. He still didn't know what that letter was about, after all. Monterey quickly worked his way through the stack of pancakes. "Buck up, lads," He offered. "Gadget's made of sterner stuff than you think. Besides, you know she'd get upset if we spend today worryin' about her and not about bein' Rangers." Chip nodded and got up from the table. "True enough, Monty. I'm going to the police station to check for cases. Anybody else want to come?" "Give me a few hours, Chip." Dale yawned again. "I doubt I'll be much help until I wake up." Zipper gave a quick salute, indicating he was right behind Chip. "I need to run to the store first." Monterey had woofed down the remainder of the pancakes and was starting to clean up. "I need to get some odds and ends for kitchen, here. Mainly, food." Chip shrugged. "Well, stop by if you can when you're done. Otherwise, Zipper, Dale and I will be back around noon or so for lunch." "Gotcha, mate." Monterey set the rest of the dishes in the sink and started the water. As he got out the scrubbing brushes and dishrags, Dale slunk off into the bathroom, hoping a strong shower would help bring his mind to life. Chip and Zipper headed out the front door and into the warmig sun. They quickly crossed over the park, to the police station. Using a small mousehole in the back of the building, they easily made their way up through the walls, across the ceiling, and down to their usual position on top of the fan overhead of Sergeant Spinelli's desk. He was involved with just about every case that came through the department, making it easy for the Rangers to keep track of what was going on by reading over his shoulder.Grabbing the small pair of binoculars he kept on the fan, Chip leaned over a bit and began his searching. Zipper first started with a few of the other detective desks, glancing at reports and memos. Then he made his way deeper into the station, passing by most of the offices, until he came to the broom closet off to the side. He knew of a few friends who lived in there, and thought they might have heard something that the police hadn't. Dale joined Chip and Zipper a few hours later. Chip was slightly upset when Dale finally arrived, since it was only an hour before lunch, but he let it pass. At least Dale remembered to show up, he thought. More importantly, Chip and Zipper needed an extra set of hands. When Dale first arrived, he'd had a bit of trouble finding them, mainly because Chip and Zipper were in the file room, combing through the most recent reports. Once Dale caught up to them, Chip explained that Zipper's contacts had passed on some intriguing information they had heard recently. A number of small crimes were being committed, but only in the animal circles. The human shops, homes, and businesses were untouched. The animals, on the other hand, were noticing several robberies, burglaries, and other assorted property crimes. Nothing major yet, but all the incidents held a number of similarities. In addition to them starting at the same time, all of the victims were involved, in one way or another, with the animal underworld. Chip guessed a new gang was preparing to move in on the area, but he wanted to double-check the files of human crimes, to see if one or two might share the same traits. It wasn't until almost twenty minutes later that the trio found something of importance. * * * Monterey made his way back from the West Side Market at a leisurely pace. He had a full bag of fresh fruit and vegetables, as well as his weekly supply of cheese. The West Side Market was a good distance from headquarters, but Monterey didn't mind the extra travel time. It was worth it for the quality of the food, the low prices, and the overall essence of vibrancy that permeated the place. Stalls were set up over miles of space, and a constant stream of people and animals flowed through the large, main aisle. Much more preferable to the sterile, bland decor of the supermarkets he'd seen. He kept a steady pace, but not too fast. He had plenty of time to get home before lunch, and intended to enjoy the day to the fullest. Another bite of the cheddar he held reminded him just how fresh the food was inside the bag. An assortment of nuts were tucked inside, picked up in hopes of boosting Chip and Dale's spirits. Monterey shook his head and chuckled. Someday, he thought, they're gonna have to decide which one is gonna officially court Gadget. As much fun as it was watching them try and outdo each other in order to please her, neither one had made any ground towards their goal. Gadget really wasn't even aware of the situation yet. Oh, she knew that they both really liked her, but she really wasn't quite in tune with just how deep their emotions ran. If that continued, neither Chip nor Dale would ever get anywhere with her. Not that that was necessarily a *bad* thing, but Monterey thought that either of them would be one of the best significant others she'd ever find. Of course, he had to admit, he did see *one* of them as a better balance in her life than the other, but th-- His thoughts were cut off as a razor-sharp bottle cap was flung out of the alleyway next to him, digging across the top of his arm and bursting through the bag of produce. * * * Gadget sat on her bed, next to a vast array of photos and letters. She carefully sorted through them, reading some, studying others. Her eyes reflected the light of memory as she remembered the story behind each photograph. She ran a single finger down the face of her father in one of them. He was standing next to the Screaming Eagle, his pride and joy. The photo had been taken by her mother, before Gadget was born. Geegaw had just landed the plane, after it's maiden voyage. He looked much younger, of course, but his smile was the same. How it turned up the corners of his moustache, and set a peaceful glint in his eyes. Gadget missed that. She set the photo down and picked up another one, this from years later. It was of Gadget, as a baby. Her father's arm was seen coming in from the side of the image, tickling her in the ribs, which she appeared to enjoy. Her father had taken the photo, and had often remarked that tickling her was the only way to get Gadget to smile for the camera. A giggle escaped her as she thought of the irony. Geegaw had told her that when she was still in the crib, she had something of a fear of anything mechanical. It wasn't until he took her for a ride in the Screaming Eagle that her interest perked up. Maybe it was the way that the whole world seemed to be responding to the plane as it dove and looped, but Gadget liked to think that it was because she saw how happy her father looked as he interacted with the piece of machinery. Whatever it was, she made a complete 180 degree turn, and was soon knee-deep in erector sets and other toy consturction sets, such as Capsulas. She pulled out a small letter that her father wrote to her when he was in India. He explained how she'd love the scenery, but hate the lack of "gears and cogs and springs, oh my!". She read it for a little bit more, skimming over his elaborate descriptions of the weather conditions and wind velocity. The interesting stuff was always after that, as he told her about how dangerous it was out in the plains, with nothing around for miles but your equipment and determination. * * * Chip spread the file out in front of Dale and Zipper, being careful to make sure that it remained behind the file cabinets and away from the eyes of the humans. He took out his notepad, writing down some of the addresses. "The Museum of Art, huh?" Dale wondered aloud. "I wonder why they decided to steal the Ding-Ling bell collection?" Well, Zipper motioned, it *is* worth a pretty penny in the hands of the right collector. "Yeah," Dale nodded, and flipped over to the next page. "But, all the stuff in that room was worth a good chunk of change." "More, actually," Chip noted. "Although it wasn't as highly-priced as the other items, that bell collection will still fetch a good price on the black market. I wonder why they chose only the bells, though?" "I dunno, but the M.O. appears to match our suspects," Dale pointed out a section of the report showing stills from a security camera. "You can see the small hole near the display case, over in the wall." Zipper nodded, The police figured it was damaged during the robbery. "More like made to *commit* the robbery," Chip sighed. Dale and Zipper agreed. They knew it was clearly the way the thieves entered and exited the building. "But more importantly, it's the location." Chip pointed to the address. "The museum sits right in the center of where the rest of these crimes have taken place. Which, I might add, is a good distance from Fat Cat's territory. Looks like whoever's moving in didn't want to make too much trouble for themselves." Dale chuckled. "Polite criminals. Who'd a thunk it?" * * * Stealing a glance down the alleyway, Monterey grimaced at the pain stemming from his forearm. His jacket was torn, but the bottle cap didn't manage to break the skin. He had been watching the alleyway for a minute now, and thought he spotted some movement near the back. His groceries ruined, his coat ripped, and his temper raised, he wasn't about to let whoever took a cheap shot at him get away with it *that* easily. He cautiously moved into the alley, keeping to the side, under the cover of the various debris. The bottle cap that had struck reminded him of their old adversary, Bubbles, and his clan of soda pop ninjas. "If that is him again, I'll pop *his* top!" Monterey growled as he continued to stalk down the alleyway, holding one hand over his injured forearm. No sign of anyone was evident, but that wasn't surprising. A connoisseur of hundreds of fights, Monterey didn't expect to be ambushed until he reached a secluded spot, far away from any wandering eyes back on the street. His eyes studying the area in front of him, he maintained his look of blinded anger, so that nobody would suspect his sharp ears picking up on the footsteps behind him and to his right. He heard some more, and estimated he was looking at about four opponents, probably armed. He took a moment to look around, gaining stock of his surroundings. Right next to him was a brick wall, behind him a trash can, and in front a broken-down car. He also counted a number of broken beer bottles nearby, and some used chewing gum that looked like it might still be sticky enough for something. Now, with an understanding of the area, he made a few quick tactical plans, most of which considered the best way to clobber the lout who had thrown the bottle cap. Satisfied with his plans (such as they were), he stepped out from the wall, and into the open alley. * * * Digging through another stack of papers in her dresser, Gadget brought them over to the rest of the pile and sat down on the bed. She hadn't gone through these in a long time, not since she, Monterey, and Zipper first moved in with Chip and Dale. They had brought over everything she figured was important, except for the traps. Chip and Dale assured her that they rarely, if ever, had any door-to-door salesman stop by. She tenderly shifted through the papers, digging out a small, plain envelope. Her name was written on it, in an elegant and flowing hand-written script. With the utmost care, she lifted the flap, and gently shook out the single item contained within into her open palm. It was a small, golden, heart-shaped locket. Rather simple, actually, in all appearances. Gadget, however, treated it like a sacred object. Mainly because, to her, it was. Her mother had wanted to give it to Gadget when she was old enough, but circumstances prevented that. Gadget smiled dimly at the stories her dad had told her, all about how he met her mother, the romance, and the joy when it was discovered that she was pregnant with Gadget. Gadget would have liked to have known her mother. Terica was her name, Terica Noteworth. Dad had always talked about her love of music, about how she played a number of instruments, sang, and danced with the best of them. He even went so far as to say she swept him off his feet when they danced, unlike what he was accustomed to. She was incredibly loving, giving, and generous. Turning the locket over in her hands, Gadget sighed. Her memories of her mother were only through tales from her father. Terica was indeed a very giving individual, giving her life so that her newborn daughter might live. Geegaw couldn't talk about it without a lump forming in his throat, but he always managed a soft smile, explaining that Terica had accomplished her greatest feat: childbirth. She had died with a proud smile on her face. * * * Smiling, Chip nodded as Dale and Zipper hoisted yet another file behind the cabinets. They had decided to check out as many files as possible dealing with the area in question. The space Chip was working in was getting crowded, but he didn't mind in the least. Even though a number of files were uninformative, more than one showed some promising leads. "How's it coming?" Dale asked, wiping his brow. Chip had been the one studying them this whole time, while Dale and Zipper did the retrieving. "Pretty good, actually." Chip leafed through the file papers. "I think we've got all we need here." He patted the coat pocket where his notepad was. Do you want to talk directly to my contacts? Zipper's eyes asked. Chip nodded. "First, let's get these files back." He moved over and started tugging them out. "Then we can go and pin down some more accurate information. With all of the statistical data I've compiled, it seems that this new gang has been more busy than we thought. They've also been very quiet about it." Zipper nodded, helping the chipmunks pull another file out. He inclined his head, expressing that this gang weren't as quiet as they would have liked to have been, as his contacts had still heard about it. Dale puffed his agreement. "Hey, do we have to bring all these things out again? It wasn't exactly a cake walk to bring them back here in the first place!" "Not to worry, Dale." Chip pointed up to an approaching officer. "Just hide around the corner, and I'll handle the rest." Dale shrugged, then followed Zipper around the corner. Chip waited until the officer was passing by, then pushed a file out onto his foot. "Hmmm?" He looked down at the file, then over to the space behind the filing cabinet where it had come from. Chip darted down to the other end, escaping the officer's notice. "Oh great. More files that fell behind the cabinets. How many times do I have to tell the guys not to stack them on the top? They're always falling down!" He grumbled as he knelt down and started gathering up the files. Chip circled around him, joining Dale and Zipper. "Ah, the city's finest," Dale remarked with a grin. "Always ready to lend a hand." "Come on," Chip motioned for Zipper to lead the way. "Let's go see how much we can track down before lunchtime." * * * Sure enough, his trackers leapt out from their protective cover when he reached the center of the open alleyway. And, Monterey noticed, he had been right about two of three guesses: They were armed, mainly with bottle caps and katanas at their sides, and there were four of them. The point he had been wrong on was that, unlike Bubbles' gang's uniforms, these ninjas were dressed in the traditional black clothing. There was not a trace of red, orange, or purple among them. It was possible that Bubbles had forgone the colors for the more elegant black, but Monterey doubted it. He wasn't about to waste time thinking about it, however, and instead pretended to act surprised. The four had surrounded him, and began to move in. Monterey made a quick feint for the one directly in front, then quickly rolled backwards and kicked straight out with both feet. The ninja behind was caught completely off-guard, busy drawing his katana, and Monterey's massive legs were more than enough to knock him out cold when they connected. Using the momentum to carry him back to his feet, Monterey bounded up into a defensive stance. His back was clear, so he could concentrate fully on those in front of him and to the sides. The remaining ninjas approached cautiously, a bit more wary. They skillfully drew their katanas free. "Oh yeah," Monterey said as he planned out his next move, "you guys are the strong, silent types, right?" In answer, they lunged as one, swordtips leading the way. "I'll take that as a yes." Monterey used his foot to kick the fallen ninja's katana up into his hands, and quickly executed a clumsy warding block, shoving the swordtips aside. He hadn't used any weapons in a while, mainly because he preferred the up-close-and-personal street fighting style. So as the ninjas pulled back, Monterey dropped the blade, stooped, and picked up their fallen comrade, swinging him by his ankles. The mouse club collided with the three still standing, knocking them all back. Monterey kept the spin going, and as he came around again, he let go, sending the mouse body crashing into one of his comrades, taking them both down. "Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the world's first livin' shuriken!" Monterey announced with a grin. He charged the one who was standing in front of the beer bottles and chewing gum he had spotted earlier. He leapt the remainder of the distance, tackling the ninja before he could bring his katana around to bear. A sharp rap across his skull insured he stayed down for a while. Out of the corner of his eye, Monterey spotted the last ninja withdrawing his bottle cap, preparing to throw. "'Bout time, mate," Monterey chided. "I've been waitin' for that." He reached over to the nearby gum, grabbing it, and grinned as he found it was indeed still sticky. He whipped his hand with the gum around to a medium-sized shard of a beer bottle, adhering it to the glass firmly. He brought his newly-made shield up just in time to deflect the thrown bottle cap. "Not so easy when I'm expectin' it, is it mate?" Monterey launched himself after the ninja, who had suddenly decided to leave. "Come on, mate!" Monterey shouted as he gave chase. "Yer the only dance partner I have left!" * * * "It was the locket your mother was wearing when we first danced," Geegaw had explained to Gadget, "at the local hospital's fundraiser ball. She always wore it from then on, and planned to give it to you when you were old enough to start a family of your own. She claimed that her grandmother had done the same, and that the locket would help you find your true love." Gadget smiled as she remembered her father explaining it all to her. Gadget was only twelve at the time, and wanted to know why she couldn't wear it then. Once she learned the answer, she agreed to wait. After all, she still had the mentality of "Boys=Ugh!". So the locket was tucked away until Gadget grew older. But as she did, the memory of the locket lost importance. Not that either she or her father forgot about it, but so many other things started happening. Once Gadget was old enough, by her father's standards, she had already found her true love: inventing. He didn't press the issue, because he figured a few more years of waiting wouldn't hurt. It's difficult to say just how long those few years would have been, though, for not long after that decision, he died. A single tear came to her eye as she remembered it. Coming home from the scrapyard, with her arms full of parts and a head full of ideas, she had made her way up into the abandoned plane they called home, only to find some of her father's friends waiting for her, their faces long and tired. She had calmly explained that her Dad wasn't there, that he was off on a mission over the Pacific. He'd be back in a few days, she had said, but they way they looked at her twisted her stomach up into a knot. "He's not coming home, Gadget," one of them had said. She tried to feign ignorance, but in her heart, she knew exactly what they meant. His plane had gone down. They were in radio communication with him when he described some type of aircraft problem. They listened intently as his descriptions of the problems grew worse while they were forced to sit by, helpless. Finally, the engines completely shut off, and he began his final descent. "The last thing we heard before the radio cut off," one of them softly explained, "was to tell you that he loved you." Gadget could not remember anything else about the rest of the day. * * * "Do you remember anything else?" Chip asked the group of ants that were playing cards. They had followed Zipper back to the broom closet, through a hole in the wall, and then down to the building's foundations. A large colony of ants were based there, and they generally heard most of the underground gossip. The ant who was dealing, Orkin, shook his head. "Naw, just that the Roto-rooter colony decided to move their queen, rather than pay the money." Dale nodded. "So this new gang is also working an extortion racket." Orkin studied his cards and nodded. "Yep, that's what the word is. I will tell you this much, though." He looked at the Rangers with a steel gaze. "It's a monumental task to move a queen and nest unexpectedly. Most of the time it'd be easier to just declare war on the encroachers, but the Roto-rooters decided against that. Says something about this group's apparent strength, eh?" The ants at the makeshift table grumbled in agreement. "Do you have a name?" The questioning had brought a lot of rumors out, but very few actual facts. Chip was hoping for at least a few key ones to come to light. "Well, now, lemme see." Orkin was quiet for a few moments as he discarded and drew from the deck. "I think some of the workers in the Roto-rooters said that they called themselves the 'Furfoot' clan. Acted real slick, sort of like they were part of something real important. Also acted real formal too, with a lot of bowing and talk of honor and such. They were all of the rodent type, you know." Orkin looked disdainfully at Chip and Dale, and the other ants shared the feeling. Most insects disliked rodents, mainly because the rodents had a habit of forcing them from their homes or just eating them outright. Writing the name in his notepad, Chip failed to pick up on the look, but Dale didn't. "Uh..." he started, trying to change the subject, but the ants went back to their game as if nothing had happened. Dale looked to Zipper, who just shrugged. As long as it doesn't involve them, the gesture implied, they really don't care. Chip thought for a moment. A clan name, bowing, formal tradition, honor...he was starting to guess what they up against. "So we should ask the Roto-rooters for more information?" "I wouldn't recommend it," Orkin snorted as he gathered up the cards and shuffled them. "It's not polite to go up to a large colony of ants and say something akin to, `Hey, just heard you lost your home and have to start all over again from scratch. Wanna tell me about the guys you forced you out of your turf?'" The other ants chuckled in agreement. "They'd be more likely to take their frustrations out on you," Orkin commented. "So now what?" Dale turned to Chip. "We have a name and the area." Chip tapped his notepad. "The next thing to do is to visit the area and see what information we can gather up." "Erm..." Dale was wondering about lunch. "That won't take too long, will it?" No Dale, Zipper assured him. We'll be back in time for lunch. "Thanks Orkin," Chip said as they headed back upstairs. "You guys were a big help." Orkin and the ants merely grunted acknowledgement. "Come on guys!" Chip lead the way back up. "I see a lot of potential paths, and very few of them have dead ends." He smiled. * * * The ninja ran for a good minute or so, before he was finally stopped by a dead end. Monterey, hot on his heels, slowed down as he saw his adversary come to a halt and turn to face him. "Whew, nice jog, mate," Monterey said slowly, trying to hide the fact that he was a bit winded. "Now, maybe if you just say why you and your buddies felt it necessary to ambush me back there, I might go easy on you." No answer was given, except for the ninja pulling back into a defensive crouch. "I'll take that as a no," Monterey sighed and started forward. "At least you're clear in your body language. Ever think of becomin' a mime?" Monterey had a sudden uneasiness about the whole situation. He stopped for a moment, listening. Sure enough, he had heard the scuffling of feet coming from a few isolated areas of the alley. He frowned, realizing, too late, that he had walked right into a trap. "Crikey, what do they do? Ship you guys in like a cheese sampler?" He actually spotted a few of them moving out as the ninja he had chased darted in to attack. Monterey noticed that the ninja was very elaborate with the forms and motions of his martial arts, making it very easy for Monterey to just plow into the mouse, barreling him to the ground. A swift fist bounced the mouse's head off of the cement, putting him out cold. No time was given for celebration, however, as the others jumped him. Monterey was not a martial artist, so they got in quite a few hits past his defenses. He felt an unyielding barrage of fists and kicks coming in from all angles. But, Monterey *was* a brawler, so most of the hits didn't even register with him. His own form of attack was crude and straightforward compared to his opponents flowing style, but when he connected, it made up for it and then some. As they swarmed about him, trying to force him down, the back of his mind found it interesting that, unlike the first group he faced, these ninjas didn't have any weapons. It was only a fleeting thought, though, as his primary concern was staying on his feet. As the fight continued, he realized that they were quickly wearing him down. He had to end it, and end it now. Snagging one of them by the shirt, he pulled the unfortunate ninja into him, head-butting him fiercely. As the ninja crumpled to the ground, the other two grabbed each of his arms, attempting to flip him to the ground. Monterey allowed this, grabbing hold of them and giving a sudden jerk, yanking them off balance and down next to him. He snapped his arms back, sandwiching each between an elbow and the alley floor. Each emitted a painful grunt before blacking out. Groaning, Monterey stumbled to his feet. He paused to catch his breath, the full effects of the beating he had just taken beginning to settle in. Nobody else in the alleyway moved. Still, he kept a watchful eye out, determined not to be ambushed a third time. For several minutes he waited, catching his breath. Everything else was still, save for the low wind that rustled some papers and disturbed the silence. * * * After that, the locket had remained undisturbed in the envelope. After all, the first thing on her mind was her father's funeral, even though they didn't have his body, which made it all the more hard on Gadget. It took her close to a year to get over the loss of her father. But the hope that he might have survived was always there, although she had buried it deep in her mind. The letter from last night, however, had unearthed everything in a mountainous heap. She shook her head, not wanting to think about that just yet. Instead, she turned her attention back to the locket, and the time after the funeral. The next few months were spent building various traps and other inventions that she thought of. It was all just a way to kill time, more than anything. Eventually, she ran out of things do to (not to mention space to work with) so she started to clean up all of the odds and ends she had laying around. As she did, she had come across the locket for the first time in a year, quietly sitting among a pile of her father's things. Then, just as now, she had remembered what her mother wanted to do with it, what she wanted Gadget to do in her life. Gadget had removed it from the envelope, thinking about what her mother had said about it helping her to find her true love, and chuckled. In her mind, her true love was already found: machinery, and the building and modifying thereof. She must have been staring at it for several minutes before she was brought out if it, due to company approaching. She had guessed they were salesman, so she tucked the locket back away and climbed into one of her latest defense vehicles to drive them off. As it turned out, they weren't salesman, but Monterey, Zipper, Chip, and Dale, and they managed to sell her the idea of piloting the Screaming Eagle. Not that they had actually tried, but after hearing them talk for a little bit, she jumped at the chance for something truly constructive to do with her time. Thus, she joined them on their mission to recover a stolen ruby, which turned out to be only a small piece in a grand adventure. For Gadget, though, it felt like a hole in her life had been filled. Maybe it was the presence of Monterey, the closest thing to a family she had, or maybe just the excitement and fun of helping others. Whatever the reason, she hitched on for good as a Rescue Ranger, and had dozens of weird and wonderful times since. Times, she realized, that had kept her mind away from the locket. Until now, that is. Carefully, she pressed down on the top latch, allowing the locket to silently open. On the left side was an old photo of her mother and father, back when they had first been dating. Her father was standing slightly over and behind her mother, his arms draped affectionately across her shoulders, hugging her from behind. Her mother was using her hands to return the hug, by holding Geegaw's arms tightly to her. The right side was empty, waiting for Gadget to fill it in. She ran a finger along the edge of the empty side of the locket, thinking about what to put there. She knew it'd have to be a picture of all of the Rescue Rangers. They were her family now. Glancing over at the letter laying on her pillow, she unhooked the clasp on the chain and slipped it around her neck, latching it back in place. The small, gold locket rested comfortably against her chest. This was the first time she had ever worn it, but she felt the same connection that she got whenever she held her favorite wrench. Smiling, she thought her mother would be glad that she was finally wearing it. Her smile remained as she started to efficiently sort and organize the pile in front of her. * * * "Looks like an efficient organization," Chip whispered from his hiding place under the shelves. Dale and Zipper, on either side, nodded silently. They were all laying supine under one of the large shelving units in a small drug store. The shelving unit was near the back of the store, directly across from the pharmacy. They watched as a number of sharply-dressed mice methodically moved a number of pharmaceuticals and various paraphernalia from both the pharmacy and the counter. The Rangers had arrived not more than ten minutes ago, and already had tracked down their prey. After they had dropped off of the bus, it didn't seem like they would get anywhere. Everyone they questioned either didn't know or wouldn't talk. Chip was starting to get worried. The Furfoot gang had only been in the area for a few weeks, and had already established a firm grip of fear on the animal civilians. It wasn't until Dale started a perfectly normal conversation with some kids about comic books that they learned something. The kids mentioned that a small drug store had one of the best selections in town, which caught Dale's attention. When they further explained that they didn't like to go there anymore, because the "new mice" that frequented it gave them the chills, *Chip's* attention was caught. They got the directions to the store, and had just arrived in time for Zipper to fly a quick recon inside, spotting some activity in the back. Carefully moving along the base of the shelves, they had followed Zipper towards the pharmacy, ducking under the last shelving unit when they spotted the mice. Tucked safely away, they watched intently as the mice continued their methodical theft. "What should we do, Chip?" Dale whispered. Chip thought for a moment. His first instinct was to stop the crime, but he knew they were hopelessly outnumbered. Right now, their anonymity was their biggest asset. "We wait." He motioned towards one of the mice as he carried some supplies to the corner, where a tile had been shifted aside, just enough for the mouse to climb down inside. "I want to try and learn a little bit more about these guys. This is more than just a newly-formed gang, Dale. Someone's expanding their empire." "But who?" Dale asked. "How can they expand it when they've just arrived? We've never even *heard* of them until now." "Which is what I want to find out before we go jumping into this," Chip continued to watch the operation with interest. Have you guys noticed, Zipper pointed to a few of the closest mice, that all of these guys are wearing rings? Chip and Dale squinted and nodded. Dale shrugged. "Maybe they're all married." Chip doubted that was the case. "I think it's something more like identification." "Like a dog tag?" Dale asked. Chip couldn't help but smile. "Not quite, Dale. In fact, if you told them the same thing, you'd probably find yourself missing a few vital organs." "Huh?" "Never mind. What I'm trying to say is that from everything we've learned so far, it points to the same conclusion: these guys are part of the Yakuza." "The Who-za?" The Japanese crime syndicate, Zipper's brow drew together. Swell, it's even worse than we first thought. "Maybe, Zipper," Chip mentioned. "We don't have any solid proof, but I'm willing to bet that it *is* the Yakuza. And if they're moving in, it's only going to mean trouble for us. Remember the Ding-Ling bell collection? Ten to one that these are the guys that stole it. Since it's part of Japanese history, I doubt they considered it theft. Just appropriation of their rightful relics." A few minutes later, the last mouse slipped into the hole, sliding the tile back in place. The Rangers waited a few minutes to make sure the coast was clear. "What now, Chipper?" Dale checked about, but didn't see anyone. "Now," Chip mentioned as he slipped out from the shelving unit, "we follow them." Before the others could object, Chip sprinted over to the tile and carefully lifted it up, pushing it to one side easily. "Chip, wait!" Dale grabbed his arm. "We don't know what's down there. You could run right into a trap, or a guard, or whatever." Blindly stumbling through unfamiliar territory isn't the best way to gather information, Zipper nodded. "I know guys," Chip pulled his arm free. "But this is a golden opportunity to see if we can find their hideout. At the very least," he added as they started to protest, "I just want to see how big of an organization we're dealing with here." He then smoothly dropped down into the hole. Dale and Zipper sighed as they looked at each other, then followed behind. The drop was short, only a half-foot. A simple tunnel led the way deeper into the ground, slanting downward at a slight angle. A small, glowing, electrical wire ran along the base of the tunnel, providing a soft white light. They maneuvered down cautiously, watching for traps, alarms, or guards. Fortunately, the way seemed to be clear. No-one probably even knew of the tunnel's existence, and if anyone else did, the reputation of the Furfoot clan was probably sufficient deterrent. The Rangers tried not to think about what the Furfoot did to trespassers to garner such a formidable reputation. They crept along the tunnel for several minutes, until it finally opened up into a large chamber. The walls of the tunnel near the opening were carved out of concrete, and Chip noted with interest some elaborate decorations engraved across them. Squatting by the doorway, the Rangers saw that the chamber was actually a basement of some kind. From their vantage point, dozens more tunnels perforated the stone walls about them. Chip's gaze followed the glowing wire as it led the way over to one side, where it was hooked into what appeared to be a small generator of sorts. Scores of wires were coming out from it, each leading off to a different tunnel. The rest of the basement housed what seemed to be an actual city, of some type. Various buildings and structures were everywhere, with a large castle in the center. It reminded Chip of the one Rat Capone had built before, only this was made from sturdy construction materials instead of gold and jewels. The thing that the Rangers found to be most disturbing was the number of creatures milling about. Scores of mice, dozens of rats, a few moles, some chipmunks, and even the occasional squirrel. Dale tapped Chip on the shoulder and pointed up to a large flag hanging from the ceiling. It had an insignia on it, and as he glanced around again, they noticed that the same insignia was on several more smaller flags and banners about the place. Several of the animals below also wore it as a patch, either on the sleeve or on the back of their shirt. "Look familiar?" Dale asked in a horse whisper, still staring at it. Zipper, too, was gaping at it in shock. Chip looked back up, and made the connection that Zipper and Dale had made a moment earlier. Two crescent moons faced each other, surrounded by five stars. One was over each moon, one was under each moon, and the last one was in the center, between them. The exact same design that adorned the wax seal on Gadget's letter. * * * Sure enough, each of their rings had the crest that he saw on Gadget's letter last night. Monterey sighed and ran his hand across his face. He was feeling better, although his whole body ached with a dull throb. He was crouched next to the ninjas had he knocked out at the front of the alley, inspecting them a bit more closely. Just like the ones at the back, each of the ninjas wore a simple crest ring, each one bearing the same design. Why exactly they attacked him was now secondary to trying to figure out the connection between them and Gadget. More importantly, the contents of Gadget's letter. He stood up again, and looked around. He could drag them all together and tie them up, then notify the animal police to come pick them up, but he didn't have time for that. If there *was* some sort of connection, then Gadget could be in trouble. He doubted that these guys knew where the Rangers' headquarters was located, but they *had* managed to track *him* down. It could have been luck, of course, but Monterey knew better than to take chances. After taking a moment to gather up their various weapons and dump them in a secluded trash can further down the alley, Monterey raced back towards HQ. At least, as fast as his battered body would allow.