It's A Jungle Out There
By Jelle (CD)
Epilogue
Alexander Rockforanov found himself in the halls of the Winter Palace, the
symbol of rulership for a number of revolutions, which all led to more bloodbaths
than his great grandfather ordered in his ruleship. He sat down on a couch,
waiting for his great leader to signal him. He was all alone in the building,
except for a snobbish butler that noticed the ‘sub-commander’.
“Would you kindly take your filthy (censored) of the furniture?” The
man requested, in Russian.
“You have no realization that you are speaking to the lord and owner of
this estate,” Alex bragged, enjoying the sound of it.
The caretaker looked like he was going to reply, something along the lines of
‘you sir, are mad’ if it where not for Russia’s rodent reformer
that interrupted them.
“Ah, you must be Alexander. Now would you please explain to me why you
requested to meet me in the Winter Palace, instead of making an appointment
at the Kremlin?” Vladimir Pudding demanded to know as he motioned the butler
to leave them in private.
Alex just smiled as he opened his suitcase and started explaining.
“Have you ever noticed, while studying the Rockforanov family tree, that
the dynasty ends with Nathalie Storkenzollern, with only a query mark as her
offspring? Well it seems this child, who has passed into obscurity, is in fact
my father.”
“You don’t say!” Vladimir replied, not believing a word of it.
“That’s why I brought these analyst reports. I think these should
make it clear that I am the rightful heir to Russia’s throne, the church
and all her lands.” Alex proclaimed as he handed the premier his files.
Upon studying the results, the Siberian chipmunk named Pudding was shocked to
learn they were reliable, correct and that Alexander was the owner of the land
he was currently walking on. It took him some time to regain his composure.
“You can’t have it! There’s no way in heck that the people of
this country will allow you to become sovereign ruler of our federation!”
“Relax, I haven’t come here to show you the way out of your office.
You and the current government can stay in place if you like. What I do want
is the wealth the Rockforanovs owned.”
“What are you planning to do with it?” Vladimir asked skeptically.
“Simply put, I have friends in North America who helped me once. They are
a crimefighter group named the “Rescue Rangers”. I vowed myself to
oppose terrorism at every opportunity. Since I was victim of a fake army draft,
I know more about smugglers and communist conspirators than I ever cared to
know. With the wealth that has remained untouched after the massacre of the
Rockforanovs, I could supply them with necessary equipment and material.”
Vladimir seemed to be in deep thought, but finally answered.
“Since you can back up your claims to the Rockforanov fortunes, I have
no choice but to agree,” he finally agreed.
“And one last thing, it’s a bit personal and if you don’t want
it I won’t force you to, but I’d like to inherit this palace as well.”
“I can’t support you on that one. It’s a landmark of our country
and property of the state. But that does not mean you aren’t in the right
to demand inheritance. You’re going to have to wade through everything
our bureaucracy can throw at you, take many oaths and sign numerous contracts.
But in the end, you’d probably win the case. But what are your intentions
with it?”
“Well…” Alex started as he scratched the back of his head nervously
“I’m currently homeless.”
Vlad went pale. If had been able to scream he’d be heard all the way back
in Moscow.
“And the museum could bring in lots of money, which I’d donate to
the Red Cross or charity,” Alex finished.
“If you wanted my heart to stop ticking you could have simply asked. For
a moment I though I was speaking to a greedy pig that wanted this place as a
summer resort,” the Premier finished.
“If I were like that, I wouldn’t have allowed you to stay president,”
Alex smiled.
Back in their apartment in New York, Mercy and Philip were once more engaged
in a duel of thumb-acrobatics in order to beat each other in a computer game.
“This time I won’t land or your fireball!” Mercy explained as
she avoided a projectile being launched at her.
There was a loud bang from the screen and Mercy’s expression changed. “Philip,
you won’t be watching “Duck Tales” today.” She stated.
“At least you were spared to humiliation of being beaten again,” Philip
comforted her “But you should open a window, so the smoke can get out.”
“A good idea, that way I shove this heap of junk outside right away,”
She agreed and got up.
Mercy opened the window and, according to her words, retrieved her now worthless
television and threw it out the window, so it landed right in the garbage dumpster
that was parked below.
“At least this gives me an excuse to buy a new one.” Mercy declared
as she turned off the game console.
There was a ring at the door and Philip was quick to open it. There was a beautiful
chipmunk lady in the doorway, and Philip recognized her immediately.
“Hi there Philip. I see you’re practicing so you can later become
a servant,” Clarice joked and stroked his head.
“Nice of you to stop by. Your planning is perfect, the TV just gave away,”
Mercy explained in greeting.
“How was your trip to the Gulf, seen any pyramids?” She questioned
and suppressed a giggle.
“Well, we saw a lot of sand. We even took some of it home, and not because
we liked it so much. But seriously, it was surprising. You’d think there
was little to see there, but they all kinds of eye catchers: Mc Burger Bat,
Mousecedes, Coockoo Cola…”
“No mosques, oil fields or palaces?” her guest wondered.
“Oh yeah, those too. But isn’t it surprising that our country managed
to gain influence in regions where we are hated so much?” Mercy pressed
on.
“I guess so, but maybe we should try and perfect your acting skills. You
wanted to become a movie player if I remember correctly?” Clarice reminded
her student.
“Right, let’s get serious,” Mercy agreed.
Back in New York, Gadget was looking for new ways to improve the BATS version of her plunger harpoon. Chief of Animal Police Rensen thanked them for once again stopping the illegal trade of weaponry and gladly informed them the threat seemed to get back under control. By far the best thing that happened on this adventure was that the BATS agreed to share it’s technology and supplies with the Rescue Rangers, provided Gadget continued to present new ideas for non-lethal firepower to the United Species. Also, the Siberian they rescued in their operation had assured them he’d help out as much as he could, even while he was separated from the American continent by an ocean. Even the oddball scientific mouse they gave a ride to New York offered to assist the team, telling them she received degrees for Biology and Computer Operation. With the resources of the BATS, their technological advantage over many other rodents and the new allies the Rangers made lately, Gadget was eager to increase the quality of her inventions and perhaps think up some new ones in the process. As she continued with her inventing spree, her father and his best friend had a hard time convincing her to take a break.
With his superiors once again beaten, Marcus was once again workless and wandering
the streets of Rio de Janeiro, thinking of what he’d do now. While doing
this, he suddenly bumped into a tall, lean figure. He looked up to see a familiar
face.
“Say, weren’t you on the submarine that transported us here?”
he asked as he recovered his hat that had dropped to the ground.
“Yes, I recognize you. You’re the one that everyone ordered around
simply because they felt like it. Allow me to introduce myself, I’m Leonard
Longtail.”
“Let me guess, you’re wondering where to go to now as well, are you?”
Marcus gambled, sounding a tad annoyed.
“Actually, no. We already have a destination in mind,” The lizard
replied.
“We? You and who else?” Marcus asked, interested.
“I’ve decided to cooperate with a rat named Boris “Bowler”
and a Siberian who goes by the name Sergei Tcharkovsky. We’re all planning
to pay back the Rescue Rangers who once again caused me to become workless.”
“Hmm, do you three have place for someone else interested in teaching the
Rescue Rangers a lesson? I’d sign up on this plan immediately,” Marcus
offered immediately.
“Yes, I’m sure we could use someone to do the heavy work. You’re
hired,” Leonard agreed. “I’m on my way now to find a ship to
take us to Manhattan, then we’ll think up our next move later.”
“Well, we’re home,” Steve announced as he gently kicked the
door to his nightclub open, carrying his wife inside.
“Finally we can relax after so much adventuring. But with you Steve, I
doubt we’ll get much time to do that,” Flora predicted as she tickled
him under his chin.
“Hey, if I had the choice I never took part in any adventure. Just be glad
your life isn’t boring,” he defended himself as he passed the double
doors, entered the elevator and waited for Flora to push the button.
They exited and arrived in Mr. Nutcracker’s office, which hadn’t changed
a bit ever since Steve left it. He entered the bedroom the two of them now shared
and lay his wife down in the bed, covering her with the sheets and kissing her
forehead.
“There, now close your eyes and get some shuteye,” He ordered as he
took off his hat and lay down beside her to rest up as well.
The End
Authors Note: This is the end of my sixth piece of fanfiction now. If
someone liked it, I’m glad. If someone didn’t, that’s a shame.
The United Species is an idea from John Nowak, I hope he does not mind it I
used it as well. This is by no means an offense to Arabs, Russians or Brazilians.
It is, by all means, an offense to smugglers, psychopaths and Stalinists.
Disclaimer: The Rescue Rangers, Chip Dale, Gadget, Monty, Zipper, Geegaw,
Fat Cat and goons, Rat Capone and goons and the fruit bats are property of Disney.
Steve Nutcracker, Flora Nutcracker, Mercy Stoneturner, Philip Stoneturner, Timbert,
Frank, Hen, Henk, Marcus, Leonard Longtail, Boris, Sergei, Petro Mendoza, Pèpe,
Minerva Bilderpavsky, Chief Rensen are all my own creations. Vladimir Pudding
is a parody of Vladimir Putin, and no harm is intended. All other people and
trademarks referred to are property of their own company.