Hello fellow fanfiction fans, vburro08 here. This is my first fanfic ever, don't know yet if it will be my only fanfic(that is a distinct possibility). Reviews, positive or negative, are welcome. DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CATS AND DOGS OR ANY CHARACTERS FROM THE SERIES! ONLY MY OC'S. Butch, Lou, and all other characters from the Cats and Dogs films belong to Warner Brothers Home Entertainment.
As his assistant watched, Dr. Jeff Goldberg slowly heated a beaker over a Bunsen burner. Bringing the chemical inside the beaker to a boil, he then reduced the heat under the beaker. "What are you working on now, Dr. Goldberg?" asked the assistant, brushing his hair away from his eyes. "Something that could possibly revolutionize the pet allergy section of pharmaceuticals, Michael" answered the scientist, carefully watching the boiling liquid.
"How so, Doctor?" Michael asked, curious. "This compound that I'm working on could possibly cure dog allergies in humans, permanently. That would be a major breakthrough in the medical industry! Not to mention it would be great news for people who suffer from dog allergies. Now, this is only a part of the overall experiment". "What do you mean?" "There's another scientist, a Dr. Brody in California, who's working on this as well. We've talked a few times, comparing notes, that sort of thing".
"He sounds like a pretty smart guy" said Michael. "He is" said Dr. Goldberg, removing the beaker from the burner. "He's a bit odd, but very bright, very dedicated to his research". "He sounds like a first class scientist" Michael commented, watching the scientist bustle about the lab. "He is" said Goldberg, reaching for some other chemicals that he kept on a shelf. Noticing that Michael was rubbing his eyes, he smiled. "You look a little tired. Why don't you go back to the house. I'll finish up here". "Thank you" said Michael. Rising from the table, he stretched, yawning.
Walking toward the outer door of the lab, he paused to swipe his keycard in the lock. As he stepped outside, he took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, enjoying the light breeze blowing on his skin. Walking toward the house he and the doctor shared, he paused and waved at the security guard, Sam. "Good night Sam". "Good night Michael" came the cheerful response, and he continued towards the house.
He hadn't gone more than a hundred yards when an explosion ripped through the air, shattering the stillness of the night. Michael was thrown to the ground, shaken, but alive and unhurt. Turning toward the source of the noise, he was horrified to see the lab engulfed in flames. He ran toward the building, calling for the blaze, he was temporarily forced back by the intense heat. He could hear the shouts of the hired security team, but they were too far away to help. That left only him. Looking around, he soon spotted a pair of heavy duty work overalls and steel-toed boots, along with a yellow utility helmet. It would have to do. Donning his makeshift fireman's gear, he forced his way into the burning building, despite the flames and heat. "DOCTOR! DOCTOR GOLDBERG, WHERE ARE YOU!?" Hearing a weak call for help, he turned toward the sound, blindly searching for the caller. "Keep calling, I'll find you!" he shouted.
Suddenly, he was grabbed from behind and hustled outside. When he tried to re-enter the building, he felt several arms encircling his body. Struggling proved useless, as the men were stronger and more determined than he was.
Afterwards, he couldn't remember very much of that night, just snippets here and there: questioning the doctor about the experiment, saying good night to Sam before heading toward the house. And always, the explosion, the heat, searching frantically for Dr. Goldberg, hearing his frantic cries for help as the flames consumed him.
After being treated for minor burns and cuts he'd sustained from the explosion and his failed rescue attempt, Michael was released from the hospital and taken to police headquarters to give a statement, before heading to a friend's house for some rest.
Days went by, then weeks. The police searched through the debris, but found nothing to indicate foul play was involved. Gradually, the investigation into the explosion at the lab was shelved for want of evidence. In spite of this, Michael refused to give up, and continued to search for the truth. One day, as he was reviewing the footage from the security cameras, he saw something neither he, nor the police had noticed before. It seemed inconspicuous, yet to Michael, it was like he had seen it himself.
The screen showed the security guard, Sam, apparently dropping a small package of some sort near the side of the lab. Minutes later, there was a bright flash on-screen which soon resolved into flames. But when he took the tape to the police, the officer he spoke to wasn't interested in reviewing the footage. "We've got better things to do than wasting our time chasing after leads that won't go anywhere" he said, pushing the tape back toward Michael. "Face it, kid. Accidents happen". "But this tape proves that it wasn't an accident" Michael said vehemently.
"Look, kid, I'm sorry about what happened to your friend" said the officer. "But there's just no evidence of foul play. We would have found it by now if there were". Rising from his seat, he took Michael by the arm. Furious, Michael shrugged it off and stormed out of the police station.
When he arrived back at the house he was staying at, he saw the light blinking on the answering machine. "That's odd" he muttered, setting the tape on the kitchen table. "Mark never lets the machine get it when he's around". Looking around, he soon spotted a note taped to the refrigerator door. It read "Dear Michael, I'm sorry I have to leave, but my dad suffered a heart attack in Florida. Mom has asked that I come and be with them during this time. I don't know how long I'll be gone, but I know you can handle things at the house for me while I'm gone. I'll call as soon as I know something. In the mean time keep up the investigating. I know you'll find something the police didn't. I have complete faith in you in this matter. Your friend, Mark" Below was the number for a hotel near Miami that Michael knew.
Turning to the answering machine, he pushed PLAY. It was a message from Mark, letting him know that he'd arrived safely at the hotel and would call as soon as he knew anything. Turning off the machine, Michael heard the click of the mail slot, signifying the arrival of the morning he sorted the mail, leafing through assorted bills and sympathy cards, he came upon a blank, unsealed envelope. Curious, he lifted the flap and extracted a 3x5 inch card. Typed on the card was this message. "If you want more information on the explosion, be in the alley behind Tony's restaurant at 11:30 tonight. Come alone." It was unsigned.
Curious, he examined first the card, then the envelope to see if he could learn anything about the sender, but found nothing out of the ordinary. "Well, I guess I'll just have to wait 'til tonight to find out more" he sighed, sliding the card back in the night, he went to the restaurant mentioned in the note. It was a nice place for steak and beer, and little else. Checking his watch, he saw it was almost time to meet the sender, whoever they were. Hearing a noise behind him, he turned and looked, staring into the shadows.
"You made it" came a voice to his left. "For a moment there I thought you wouldn't show." "Who are you?" Michael asked, trying to get a glimpse of the speaker. "All in good time, Michael" came the answer. "First tell me what you know about what happened." "If you're the one who sent the note, then you already know that" Michael answered. "Not everything" came the reply. "For instance, I don't know what caused it, or who." "That's easy enough to answer" said Michael, frowning. "It was a bomb planted near a wall that caused the explosion. As for who planted it, it was the security guard, Sam."
"Very well" said the voice. "What else do you want to know?" "Your name, for a start" Michael said, laughing a little. "Fair enough" the voice replied. "My name's Butch. I've been assigned to this case by my boss. From what we can tell, the doctor was working on a cure for dog allergies when the explosion happened. As for what I am, you'll just have to see for yourself." "What do you mean by that" Michael asked. There was no answer, but he soon heard nails clicking on asphalt. "You're a dog!?" he exclaimed, puzzled. "Glad to see your ears are still working" said an Anatolian shepherd, as he stepped into the light. "And yes, I am a dog thank you very much."
"But how…" Just then, indistinct noises began coming out of the dog's collar. Holding up a paw to hush Michael, Butch listened to the radio, his expression annoyed at first, then changing to one of concern as he glanced at Michael. "We have a problem" he said, signing off. "My boss just told me there's a group of about five cats headed our way, ETA thirty seconds." "Can't you handle them?" Michael asked. "I mean, they're just cats for crying out loud, what's so scary about that?" "Because three of them happen to be the best cat assassins in the world" said Butch, heading toward the alley opening.
Suddenly, the entrance was blocked. Two Siamese, two ginger toms and an American short-hair stood there, glaring at Butch who stepped protectively in front of Michael. "Hand over the human, dog!" snarled the short-hair. "It won't happen, so why don't you cats just get out of our way and leave us alone" Butch growled, bristling. Letting out a yell, the gingers charged Butch.
"Run for it kid!" Butch yelled, meeting the cats head-on. As the fight progressed, it was clear that neither of the combatants was an amateur, for the cats and Butch each had years of experience fighting the other species. Soon, however, the cats had Butch backed into a corner. Looking for something that would help, Michael spotted several rocks and a length of steel chain on the ground nearby. Picking these up, he ran back toward the fighting animals.
"HEY CATS!" Hearing Michael yell at them, the gingers turned around, only to get hit in the face by flying rocks. Shrieking in rage, and pain, one of them hit Butch in the head, stunning him. "We'll deal with you later" he growled. Turning, they joined the other three cats surrounding Michael. "You're going to regret doing that human!" one of them spat as they circled, waiting to strike. Michael said nothing, waiting for them to move.
One of the cats leaped towards him, claws extended, only to be effortlessly knocked aside. Another tried his luck, with the same result. After that the short-hair pulled out a small knife. Grinning, he waved the weapon teasingly in front of him, only to be sent flying through the air by a punt, courtesy of Michael's left foot. Then, the Siamese cats struck. Pulling out shuriken, they sent them flying toward Michael, advancing as they threw. Michael used the chain to block them, then threw some rocks in return.
By this time, the other cats had rejoined the fight, and were throwing everything from glass shards to throwing knives. But, no matter how hard they tried, or what they threw, Michael blocked every shot. Finally, they ran out of things to throw. "Well now" said Michael, dropping the chain. "Looks like its hand-to-hand combat from here on out." "That suits us fine" the short-hair yowled. Jumping on to trashcans and dumpsters, the cats leaped at him simultaneously, only to collide with each other in mid-air.
"Where'd he go!?"
Just then, they heard a mocking whistle, but when they turned in that direction, they heard it coming from the other side of the alley. By the time they figured out what was happening, it was too late. A heavy rope net had dropped down seemingly out of nowhere, trapping the cats until Michael could tie them up with twine. "Well, that takes care of that" he said. Turning to check on Butch, he found the dog standing, staring at him in shock.
"Where'd you learn to fight like that?" he asked, walking up to the net. "My dad insisted that we learn to defend ourselves when I was a kid" Michael said. "It's paid off a number of times in my life." "I'll say it did" Butch said, walking closer to Michael. Pressing a button on his collar, he said "H.Q this is agent 127 reporting: All assailants have been neutralized. Package is secure."
"Well done, Butch" came the response. "We're sending a vehicle to your position, ETA 2 minutes." "Butch, we've got trouble" Michael said, tapping on his cell phone. Glancing at the screen, Butch saw a large group of heavily armed cats. "Where are they?" he asked. "About three blocks from this location" Michael answered. "They'll be here soon." "H.Q this is agent 127 requesting immediate evac. I'm tracking a large, heavily armed group of enemy agents approximately two blocks west of this location. ETA 30 seconds." "Roger 127. Be advised, we cannot assist at this time. Suggest moving to rendezvous point Charlie to await extraction."
"Roger H.Q., moving to Charlie, ETA 20 seconds" said Butch, trotting towards the alley entrance. Michael jogged along with him. "Where's rendezvous point Charlie?" Michael asked. "It's a warehouse down the street from here" Butch answered, looking around for enemy the group approaching them from the left, they quickly left the alley and headed for the warehouse, being careful to stay in the shadows. They soon arrived at the warehouse, only to find the building surrounded. Motioning for Butch to follow, Michael went into an alley beside the building. "If I remember correctly, there's a set of doors that lead down to a cellar that houses all the broken merchandise that comes in" Michael whispered. "It's not the most ideal entrance, but I don't see many other choices right now." "I know the one you're talking about," Butch whispered back. "That's where we have a transportation hub. We can use that to get to H.Q if the cats aren't down there."
"You saying I'm coming with you?" Michael asked. "Right now, we don't have much of a choice" Butch replied. Peering through a broken window and not seeing any movement, Butch lifted the latch, and prepared to throw open the door. "Wait" Michael hissed, pointing down the alley. A pair of cats were just walking by. Butch nodded his thanks, waiting until they passed before opening the doors. They reached the transport hub without further incident.
"Okay kid, I'm just gonna do a quick systems check, then we're outta here" said Butch, flipping various switches on the rocket-sled's dashboard. "Better hurry, Butch" said Michael. "My scanners indicate enemy movement outside." "It's done. Hop in and hang on" Butch said, jumping into the driver's seat. Pressing a button, he activated the thrusters, and soon, they were on their way.
Glancing over his shoulder, Michael saw another rocket-sled coming up behind them. When he mentioned it to Butch, the dog looked back, then shoved the throttle wide open. In spite of his efforts, the pursuing sled drew closer with each second. Unstrapping himself from his harness, Butch readied himself to jump on to the other sled. Michael reached out and tapped his shoulder. "There's no need for heroics Butch" he called. Rummaging in his back pack, he pulled out a small coin and showed it to Butch, before tossing it at the pursuing sled and pressing a button on his watch. Seconds later, they were watching the other sled grow smaller and smaller. Then, there was a small flash, and a distant bang echoed through the tunnel.
Anticipating Butch's question, Michael smiled. "It's my own gadget" he said, pointing to a handful of what looked like ordinary pocket change. "I took an old spy technique and tweaked it a little. The one I just used has a small engine that generates an Electro-Magnetic Pulse. After it fries whatever electronic it lands on, it self-destructs three seconds later." "It sure fried that thing" said Butch, strapping on his harness again. They continued on their way and reached D.O.G headquarters without further incident.
Stepping out of the rocket sled, Butch approached a door in the wall, beside which rested a paw-scanner. However, before he could lower his paw, a hidden door slid open, revealing a pair of scowling mastiffs. "Agent 127! What do you think you're doing?" one growled softly. Turning slowly, Butch asked "what business is it of yours, Kowalski?" "You know the rules, Butch" said the other. "In order to survive, this agency has to be kept secret from humans. That means no bringing them here, no revealing the rocket sleds, and especially, no talking to them".
"You do realize I can hear everything you say, right?" Michael asked, smiling a little. They had, of course, been speaking in regular dog language, so when they heard Michael speaking to them the same way, their eyes widened. Turning toward Michael, they eyed him warily. "Butch, did you know about this?" Kowalski inquired. Butch shook his head. "You do realize that we'll have to report this to the Chief, right?" asked the other. "I realize that, King" said Butch.
Turning to face Michael, he said "Sorry kid, but you'll need to wear a blind fold for a little while". "I'd be surprised if I didn't" Michael said, climbing out of the sled. Turning around, he allowed them to place a blind-fold over his eyes.
Author's note: well, there you have it folks! please let me know how i'm doing via review, and whether or not I should continue this story.