2nd badfic challenge, by moosesal
Title: The Amazing Adventures of SuperwolfTM Vol. 1: A Sticky Situation
Author: moosesal
Prompt: Mild mannered Diefenbaker has a secret identity as SuperwolfTM, dedicated to cleaning up crime wherever he may find it and protecting the city of Chicago from evil menaces. But when Fraser is kidnapped by Diefenbaker's arch enemy - The Evil Mutant Doughnut of EvilTM he must reveal his secret to Ray. Together they must race against time to rescue Fraser before he meets a sticky end (literally. It involves jam).
Prompt by: aingeal8c
Rating: PG
Warnings: We've already established that this is crack... So, umm... Dief as main character.
Characters/Pairings: Diefenbaker, implied Fraser/Kowalski/Vecchio
Note: Thank you to azewewish, tex, undersea, wrenlet, kittyzams, byrne, and ethrosdemon for weighing in on favorite doughnut varieties. This story would not have been the same without your contributions.
It was a dark and dangerous night, but SuperwolfTM was on patrol to protect the silly two-legged residents of downtown Chicago (most of the four-legged residents could take care of themselves). He patrolled every night, fighting crime and protecting the city from the evil that lurked around every corner.
It was just past one in the morning when he looked up to see the beacon in the sky. It was a circle of light with a bone in the middle -- the signal from the Chicago Police Department’s 27th precinct that he was needed. Desperately. (They only used the bone-signal when things were dire because budget restrictions had limited their use of the excess electricity needed by the large spotlight.)
Ever vigilant and not willing to just ignore what was going on around him, SuperwolfTM bit two muggers in action as he ran past them on his way to the 2-7. He leapt up the steps out front and through the special dog door they’d installed for him -- which he used regularly although on principle he objected to the idea of a dog door because he was a wolf, thank you kindly -- and up the stairs to the second floor in search of his favorite doughnut suppliers, Ray Vecchio and Ray Kowalski (who had formerly been undercover as Ray Vecchio while the real Ray Vecchio was undercover as a mobster, but the full explanation of that doesn’t need to be explored at this juncture).
He looked up at Ray and Ray who were arguing with each other instead of looking at him, making his usual lip-reading a little difficult. As his head went back and forth between them, he finally managed to figure out they were saying something like this:
“This is your fault!”
“No, it’s all your fault.”
“No, it’s your fault!”
“Is not!”
“Is too!”
“Is not! It’s your fault!”
“Nuh uh.”
“Yeah huh.”
“No way.”
“Way!”
“No way!”
“Way!”
“No -- Hey! SuperwolfTM is here.”
Then they kindly turned to him and told him the most horrifying news. Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police who first came to Chicago on the trail of his father’s killers, and for reasons that don’t need explained at this juncture, had stayed on in Chicago as a liaison between the Canadian Consulate and the Chicago Police Department (where’d he first worked with Detective Ray Vecchio and then with Detective Ray Kowalski posing as Ray Vecchio and then with both detectives working under their true identities and constantly vying for Constable Fraser’s attention) had been kidnapped.
Fraser had been kidnapped.
He barked his question -- “By whom?” -- knowing they probably would pretend they didn’t understand and that his proper grammar would be lost on them even if they did understand him. But Diefenbaker, err SuperwolfTM knew they could understand because Fraser always understood him perfectly well. And while the Yanks weren’t as smart as SuperwolfTM’s two-legged, Canadian sidekick, there was nothing wrong with their hearing.
Surprisingly they seemed to be paying attention this night though. Because at the same time they answered him: “By the Evil Mutant Doughnut of EvilTM.”
The Evil Mutant Doughnut of EvilTM wasn’t actually a doughnut, of course. It was man and that was his superhero name. He was actually an evil mutant doughnut maker of evil. Although he didn’t make evil, he made doughnuts. And committed horrific crimes. How had this come about?
Well, one morning he’d woken up super early because it was time to make the doughnuts. But he’d gone to bed so late the night before that he’d not gotten quite enough sleep and was very tired. While making the doughnuts he’d fallen asleep and slumped over, his head plunging into the fryer and becoming badly burned. When he woke up from the sensation of hot oil boiling his head (just like it was boiling the donuts) he pulled his head out and flailed around for something to cool the burning sensation. He ended up dunking his head into a large vat of glaze which seared to his skin (the glaze, not the vat) and left him with a shiny disfigured (but oh so tasty smelling) face. He was never the same again.
He turned to a life of crime, vandalizing Krispy Kreme and Dunkin’ Donuts shops, covering the doughnut makers and counter people with his own superdelicious glaze, stomping on all the doughnuts in the shop, and telling them if they didn’t switch to his recipes, they’d rue the day they were born. In one case he’d gone so far as to smear a countergirl with chocolate icing and dump a whole box of orange and blue (in honor of the Chicago Bears because while evil, the Evil Mutant Doughnut of EvilTM was a true Chicago citizen and huge fan of his beloved football team) sprinkles (also known as jimmies depending on what part of the country you’re from) over her head. The poor girl had stood there in shock until she looked down and saw her reflection in the glass countertop whereupon she forced a smile through the thick icing and gave a less-enthusiastic-than-desired by the Evil Mutant Doughnut of EvilTM but whole-hearted nonetheless, “Go Bears.” There may have been a small fistpump in the air, but the narrator isn’t clear because the traumatic nature of the circumstances made the countergirl’s retelling a tad unreliable.
Anyway… The Evil Mutant Doughnut of EvilTM had a calling card. He would leave a dozen doughnuts at the scene of every crime -- usually a nice mix of glazed, chocolate-iced, Bavarian-crème, strawberry- and lemon-filled [although who knows why on the lemon-filled, because who really likes those when there are so many other (i.e., better) choices out there?], regular- and cinnamon-powdered, cake doughnuts [old-fashioned, glazed chocolate, and glazed blueberry (a favorite of the narrator of this story, in case you wanted to send her some)], double chocolate, and honey crullers. If there was a full moon he’d also leave two and half apple fritters (no one had yet figured out the significance of the quantity) and/or a mixed box of doughnut holes.
It was no surprise to SuperwolfTM that the Evil Mutant Doughnut of EvilTM had kidnapped Constable Fraser though. It was really only a matter of time because Fraser’s beloved companion Diefenbaker (SuperwolfTM’s mundane daytime persona) was a great lover of doughnuts and the Rays had been excellent suppliers of doughnuts to him until Fraser demanded that they boycott doughnuts until the Evil Mutant Doughnut of EvilTM was captured and sent to Arkham Prison or the 2-7’s holding cell (whichever was more convenient to the site of his capture).
Diefenbaker err… SuperwolfTM had no doubt that Fraser was being held in the Evil Mutant Doughnut of EvilTM’s doughnut factory-cum-lair and had to wonder how stupid the Chicago police were for not realizing that already. But he was a nice wolf and he didn’t like to make two-leggers feel more stupid than they already were so he just nodded at the Rays and barked, “Give me a minute to devise a plan.”
They nodded back and went back to arguing over who was at fault for Fraser’s disappearance while Dief-- SuperwolfTM set about planning. They had set up a special sandbox for him in the corner of the squad room so that he could sketch things out with his paw and he quickly went to work drawing the floorplan of the Evil Mutant Doughnut of EvilTM’s factory. In no time he’d mapped out entry points for the strategic response unit but figured he’d more likely end up with Detectives Ray Vecchio and Ray Kowalski (who’d no doubt argue the entire time, giving away the element of surprise so he’d have to go in with them and nip at their heels to keep them quiet), Detectives Huey and Dewey, and Officer Elaine Besbriss (the only sensible one of the lot of them).
He looked over at the Rays and wondered about telling them his secret. If he was going in there to help rescue Fraser, they’d need to know. He couldn’t have the whole plan falling apart because of his … issue. It had been years ago, but it was still so fresh in his mind. He and Fraser had tangled with baked goods before.
It was a cold, wintry night in Moosejaw (during Fraser’s short stint there because at that time in his life that was just too large a city and Chicago would be too large now if it weren’t for the friendship -- and possibly more, but we don’t want to be making assumptions about what goes on behind closed doors when we’re not there -- with both Rays). Constable Fraser was patrolling the downtown area with Diefenbaker by his side (this was in his pre-vigilante crimefighter days when Diefenbaker was just Fraser’s friend and companion and his crime-fighting efforts were solely to aid Fraser in his work with the RCMP). It was in the wee, small hours of the morning that they heard a scream coming from around the corner from them.
The two of them took off running -- Fraser doing quite a nice job keeping up with Diefenbaker (those Mountie lace-up boots aren’t just sexy but functional as well) -- only to find that a small bakery was on fire. This was in the days before cell phones so Fraser looked around for a public telephone from which to call emergency assistance and saw one two blocks down. He took off for the phone while Diefenbaker ran into the burning building to check for people (they had, after all, heard a scream).
Diefenbaker made his way through racks of pastries and pies and cakes and other assorted baked goods that he would normally be all over but given he was on the job he studiously ignored. He made his way through those racks and found a woman wearing a flour-covered apron (and nothing else) collapsed on the floor. He gripped the bottom of her apron and averted his eyes from what lay beneath said apron (because he was a wolf not a dog, damn it, and had the utmost respect for women unlike many males of the two-legged variety) and began to pull her back through the maze of racks of assorted baked goods.
The heat was intense, the flames growing higher and higher. It was only because he was already so low to the ground that he wasn’t choking on the smoke. Just as he was about to pull the bakery lady through the exit door there was an explosion. The fire had superheated several jars and glass and raspberry jam flew everywhere, coating Diefenbaker and the lady and slicking the floor in front of his paws. It was just his luck that Fraser entered the building milliseconds later and was able to lift the bakery lady in his big, strong arms and carry her over the shards of glass to the safety of the street. Diefenbaker was left behind to carefully pick his way through the glass, doing his best to avoid cutting his paws. He was successful, of course, because he’s Dief. But he was still covered in raspberry jam.
It was after that night that Diefenbaker donned a mask and secret identity to become SuperwolfTM, but it was also a night that would haunt his days and nights for years to come. Why, you ask? Well because it was hours after the rescue before he could get a bath to wash the jam from his fur because, of course, he and Fraser had to talk to the police and fire department about what had happened. By the time they got home, the jam was starting to dry in his fur and despite his best efforts with hot water and soap, Fraser had had to shave Diefenbaker’s fur in some places. For weeks he’d had no choice but to go out in public with bald spots. It was the most humiliating experience of his life and ever since then he’d been unable to even look at a jar of raspberry jam without shaking.
And now he had to go into the Evil Mutant Doughnut of EvilTM’s lair, knowing that raspberry jam was one of the evil genius’s favorite ingredients. He shook off his fear, however; this was for Fraser after all. The man who had provided so much amusement for Diefenbaker over the years. He would just have to buck up and deal with his fear.
He barked to call the Rays over. As they and the rest of the team huddled around the sandbox, he barked and pointed, outlining everything then dismissing everyone to head for their vehicles. Ray Kowalski was driving today and SuperwolfTM was delighted to bark out “Shotgun” and relegate Vecchio to the backseat. He secretly hoped that Vecchio might lean forward and lick Kowalski’s ear as he himself had done a few years earlier. Kowalski had delicious ears.
As they made their way to the evil mastermind’s secret factory-cum-lair, there was no ear licking. But SuperwolfTM did manage to gather his courage and bark out, “You need to know something. I’ve got a weakness, it’s sort of my … kryptonite.”
Kowalski and Vecchio both raised an eyebrow at that. They were so totally doing it. With Fraser too if Diefenbaker’s sense of smell was worth anything. (And it totally was.)
“Just…” he started to bark. “Just keep any raspberry jam away from me if you can and I’ll be fine.”
“Sure,” they replied, nodding slowly at him. Stupid two-leggers. They just didn’t understand.
Kowalski pulled the GTO up outside the factory and radioed that they were in position. The other officers replied that they were ready to bust down the back door. On the count of three (that was a one-two-three then go as opposed to one-two-three/go) they flew through the front door only to find the Evil Mutant Doughnut of EvilTM laughing maniacally (as only proper evil mutants can laugh) and pointing at Fraser who was submerged to his neck in a huge vat of…raspberry jam.
SuperwolfTM took a step back and breathed deeply.
I must not fear, fear is the mind killer. He went through his calming mantra in his head then took off at a run and leapt through the air at the Evil Mutant Doughnut of EvilTM.
He kicked the criminal in the face with his hind legs, pushing off to the right and directly into the vat of jam. The Rays came in to subdue the Evil Mutant Doughnut of EvilTM while SuperwolfTM began to eat the jam, determined to get to the bottom of the mess and free Fraser.
“Great idea,” Dewey said as he and Huey came forward with spoons and croissants (because the Evil Mutant Doughnut of EvilTM had recently taken to baking some of his favorite French delicacies in addition to doughnuts) and helped eat the jam until only Fraser’s sexy Mountie boots were buried. With the assistance of Officer Besbriss (who’d mostly stood back watching the rescue as she smart and didn’t just jump into oddball circumstances like the idiot men at the 2-7), Fraser was able to pull his feet free of the sticky mess and climb out of the vat.
After facing his fear to save his beloved two-legged companion, Diefenbaker (aka SuperwolfTM -- or was it the other way around?) was no longer held back by anything. He went on to rid Chicago of crime. And Fraser and the Rays lived happily ever after in Kowalski’s tiny one-bedroom apartment.
The End
Author: moosesal
Prompt: Mild mannered Diefenbaker has a secret identity as SuperwolfTM, dedicated to cleaning up crime wherever he may find it and protecting the city of Chicago from evil menaces. But when Fraser is kidnapped by Diefenbaker's arch enemy - The Evil Mutant Doughnut of EvilTM he must reveal his secret to Ray. Together they must race against time to rescue Fraser before he meets a sticky end (literally. It involves jam).
Prompt by: aingeal8c
Rating: PG
Warnings: We've already established that this is crack... So, umm... Dief as main character.
Characters/Pairings: Diefenbaker, implied Fraser/Kowalski/Vecchio
Note: Thank you to azewewish, tex, undersea, wrenlet, kittyzams, byrne, and ethrosdemon for weighing in on favorite doughnut varieties. This story would not have been the same without your contributions.
It was a dark and dangerous night, but SuperwolfTM was on patrol to protect the silly two-legged residents of downtown Chicago (most of the four-legged residents could take care of themselves). He patrolled every night, fighting crime and protecting the city from the evil that lurked around every corner.
It was just past one in the morning when he looked up to see the beacon in the sky. It was a circle of light with a bone in the middle -- the signal from the Chicago Police Department’s 27th precinct that he was needed. Desperately. (They only used the bone-signal when things were dire because budget restrictions had limited their use of the excess electricity needed by the large spotlight.)
Ever vigilant and not willing to just ignore what was going on around him, SuperwolfTM bit two muggers in action as he ran past them on his way to the 2-7. He leapt up the steps out front and through the special dog door they’d installed for him -- which he used regularly although on principle he objected to the idea of a dog door because he was a wolf, thank you kindly -- and up the stairs to the second floor in search of his favorite doughnut suppliers, Ray Vecchio and Ray Kowalski (who had formerly been undercover as Ray Vecchio while the real Ray Vecchio was undercover as a mobster, but the full explanation of that doesn’t need to be explored at this juncture).
He looked up at Ray and Ray who were arguing with each other instead of looking at him, making his usual lip-reading a little difficult. As his head went back and forth between them, he finally managed to figure out they were saying something like this:
“This is your fault!”
“No, it’s all your fault.”
“No, it’s your fault!”
“Is not!”
“Is too!”
“Is not! It’s your fault!”
“Nuh uh.”
“Yeah huh.”
“No way.”
“Way!”
“No way!”
“Way!”
“No -- Hey! SuperwolfTM is here.”
Then they kindly turned to him and told him the most horrifying news. Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police who first came to Chicago on the trail of his father’s killers, and for reasons that don’t need explained at this juncture, had stayed on in Chicago as a liaison between the Canadian Consulate and the Chicago Police Department (where’d he first worked with Detective Ray Vecchio and then with Detective Ray Kowalski posing as Ray Vecchio and then with both detectives working under their true identities and constantly vying for Constable Fraser’s attention) had been kidnapped.
Fraser had been kidnapped.
He barked his question -- “By whom?” -- knowing they probably would pretend they didn’t understand and that his proper grammar would be lost on them even if they did understand him. But Diefenbaker, err SuperwolfTM knew they could understand because Fraser always understood him perfectly well. And while the Yanks weren’t as smart as SuperwolfTM’s two-legged, Canadian sidekick, there was nothing wrong with their hearing.
Surprisingly they seemed to be paying attention this night though. Because at the same time they answered him: “By the Evil Mutant Doughnut of EvilTM.”
The Evil Mutant Doughnut of EvilTM wasn’t actually a doughnut, of course. It was man and that was his superhero name. He was actually an evil mutant doughnut maker of evil. Although he didn’t make evil, he made doughnuts. And committed horrific crimes. How had this come about?
Well, one morning he’d woken up super early because it was time to make the doughnuts. But he’d gone to bed so late the night before that he’d not gotten quite enough sleep and was very tired. While making the doughnuts he’d fallen asleep and slumped over, his head plunging into the fryer and becoming badly burned. When he woke up from the sensation of hot oil boiling his head (just like it was boiling the donuts) he pulled his head out and flailed around for something to cool the burning sensation. He ended up dunking his head into a large vat of glaze which seared to his skin (the glaze, not the vat) and left him with a shiny disfigured (but oh so tasty smelling) face. He was never the same again.
He turned to a life of crime, vandalizing Krispy Kreme and Dunkin’ Donuts shops, covering the doughnut makers and counter people with his own superdelicious glaze, stomping on all the doughnuts in the shop, and telling them if they didn’t switch to his recipes, they’d rue the day they were born. In one case he’d gone so far as to smear a countergirl with chocolate icing and dump a whole box of orange and blue (in honor of the Chicago Bears because while evil, the Evil Mutant Doughnut of EvilTM was a true Chicago citizen and huge fan of his beloved football team) sprinkles (also known as jimmies depending on what part of the country you’re from) over her head. The poor girl had stood there in shock until she looked down and saw her reflection in the glass countertop whereupon she forced a smile through the thick icing and gave a less-enthusiastic-than-desired by the Evil Mutant Doughnut of EvilTM but whole-hearted nonetheless, “Go Bears.” There may have been a small fistpump in the air, but the narrator isn’t clear because the traumatic nature of the circumstances made the countergirl’s retelling a tad unreliable.
Anyway… The Evil Mutant Doughnut of EvilTM had a calling card. He would leave a dozen doughnuts at the scene of every crime -- usually a nice mix of glazed, chocolate-iced, Bavarian-crème, strawberry- and lemon-filled [although who knows why on the lemon-filled, because who really likes those when there are so many other (i.e., better) choices out there?], regular- and cinnamon-powdered, cake doughnuts [old-fashioned, glazed chocolate, and glazed blueberry (a favorite of the narrator of this story, in case you wanted to send her some)], double chocolate, and honey crullers. If there was a full moon he’d also leave two and half apple fritters (no one had yet figured out the significance of the quantity) and/or a mixed box of doughnut holes.
It was no surprise to SuperwolfTM that the Evil Mutant Doughnut of EvilTM had kidnapped Constable Fraser though. It was really only a matter of time because Fraser’s beloved companion Diefenbaker (SuperwolfTM’s mundane daytime persona) was a great lover of doughnuts and the Rays had been excellent suppliers of doughnuts to him until Fraser demanded that they boycott doughnuts until the Evil Mutant Doughnut of EvilTM was captured and sent to Arkham Prison or the 2-7’s holding cell (whichever was more convenient to the site of his capture).
Diefenbaker err… SuperwolfTM had no doubt that Fraser was being held in the Evil Mutant Doughnut of EvilTM’s doughnut factory-cum-lair and had to wonder how stupid the Chicago police were for not realizing that already. But he was a nice wolf and he didn’t like to make two-leggers feel more stupid than they already were so he just nodded at the Rays and barked, “Give me a minute to devise a plan.”
They nodded back and went back to arguing over who was at fault for Fraser’s disappearance while Dief-- SuperwolfTM set about planning. They had set up a special sandbox for him in the corner of the squad room so that he could sketch things out with his paw and he quickly went to work drawing the floorplan of the Evil Mutant Doughnut of EvilTM’s factory. In no time he’d mapped out entry points for the strategic response unit but figured he’d more likely end up with Detectives Ray Vecchio and Ray Kowalski (who’d no doubt argue the entire time, giving away the element of surprise so he’d have to go in with them and nip at their heels to keep them quiet), Detectives Huey and Dewey, and Officer Elaine Besbriss (the only sensible one of the lot of them).
He looked over at the Rays and wondered about telling them his secret. If he was going in there to help rescue Fraser, they’d need to know. He couldn’t have the whole plan falling apart because of his … issue. It had been years ago, but it was still so fresh in his mind. He and Fraser had tangled with baked goods before.
It was a cold, wintry night in Moosejaw (during Fraser’s short stint there because at that time in his life that was just too large a city and Chicago would be too large now if it weren’t for the friendship -- and possibly more, but we don’t want to be making assumptions about what goes on behind closed doors when we’re not there -- with both Rays). Constable Fraser was patrolling the downtown area with Diefenbaker by his side (this was in his pre-vigilante crimefighter days when Diefenbaker was just Fraser’s friend and companion and his crime-fighting efforts were solely to aid Fraser in his work with the RCMP). It was in the wee, small hours of the morning that they heard a scream coming from around the corner from them.
The two of them took off running -- Fraser doing quite a nice job keeping up with Diefenbaker (those Mountie lace-up boots aren’t just sexy but functional as well) -- only to find that a small bakery was on fire. This was in the days before cell phones so Fraser looked around for a public telephone from which to call emergency assistance and saw one two blocks down. He took off for the phone while Diefenbaker ran into the burning building to check for people (they had, after all, heard a scream).
Diefenbaker made his way through racks of pastries and pies and cakes and other assorted baked goods that he would normally be all over but given he was on the job he studiously ignored. He made his way through those racks and found a woman wearing a flour-covered apron (and nothing else) collapsed on the floor. He gripped the bottom of her apron and averted his eyes from what lay beneath said apron (because he was a wolf not a dog, damn it, and had the utmost respect for women unlike many males of the two-legged variety) and began to pull her back through the maze of racks of assorted baked goods.
The heat was intense, the flames growing higher and higher. It was only because he was already so low to the ground that he wasn’t choking on the smoke. Just as he was about to pull the bakery lady through the exit door there was an explosion. The fire had superheated several jars and glass and raspberry jam flew everywhere, coating Diefenbaker and the lady and slicking the floor in front of his paws. It was just his luck that Fraser entered the building milliseconds later and was able to lift the bakery lady in his big, strong arms and carry her over the shards of glass to the safety of the street. Diefenbaker was left behind to carefully pick his way through the glass, doing his best to avoid cutting his paws. He was successful, of course, because he’s Dief. But he was still covered in raspberry jam.
It was after that night that Diefenbaker donned a mask and secret identity to become SuperwolfTM, but it was also a night that would haunt his days and nights for years to come. Why, you ask? Well because it was hours after the rescue before he could get a bath to wash the jam from his fur because, of course, he and Fraser had to talk to the police and fire department about what had happened. By the time they got home, the jam was starting to dry in his fur and despite his best efforts with hot water and soap, Fraser had had to shave Diefenbaker’s fur in some places. For weeks he’d had no choice but to go out in public with bald spots. It was the most humiliating experience of his life and ever since then he’d been unable to even look at a jar of raspberry jam without shaking.
And now he had to go into the Evil Mutant Doughnut of EvilTM’s lair, knowing that raspberry jam was one of the evil genius’s favorite ingredients. He shook off his fear, however; this was for Fraser after all. The man who had provided so much amusement for Diefenbaker over the years. He would just have to buck up and deal with his fear.
He barked to call the Rays over. As they and the rest of the team huddled around the sandbox, he barked and pointed, outlining everything then dismissing everyone to head for their vehicles. Ray Kowalski was driving today and SuperwolfTM was delighted to bark out “Shotgun” and relegate Vecchio to the backseat. He secretly hoped that Vecchio might lean forward and lick Kowalski’s ear as he himself had done a few years earlier. Kowalski had delicious ears.
As they made their way to the evil mastermind’s secret factory-cum-lair, there was no ear licking. But SuperwolfTM did manage to gather his courage and bark out, “You need to know something. I’ve got a weakness, it’s sort of my … kryptonite.”
Kowalski and Vecchio both raised an eyebrow at that. They were so totally doing it. With Fraser too if Diefenbaker’s sense of smell was worth anything. (And it totally was.)
“Just…” he started to bark. “Just keep any raspberry jam away from me if you can and I’ll be fine.”
“Sure,” they replied, nodding slowly at him. Stupid two-leggers. They just didn’t understand.
Kowalski pulled the GTO up outside the factory and radioed that they were in position. The other officers replied that they were ready to bust down the back door. On the count of three (that was a one-two-three then go as opposed to one-two-three/go) they flew through the front door only to find the Evil Mutant Doughnut of EvilTM laughing maniacally (as only proper evil mutants can laugh) and pointing at Fraser who was submerged to his neck in a huge vat of…raspberry jam.
SuperwolfTM took a step back and breathed deeply.
I must not fear, fear is the mind killer. He went through his calming mantra in his head then took off at a run and leapt through the air at the Evil Mutant Doughnut of EvilTM.
He kicked the criminal in the face with his hind legs, pushing off to the right and directly into the vat of jam. The Rays came in to subdue the Evil Mutant Doughnut of EvilTM while SuperwolfTM began to eat the jam, determined to get to the bottom of the mess and free Fraser.
“Great idea,” Dewey said as he and Huey came forward with spoons and croissants (because the Evil Mutant Doughnut of EvilTM had recently taken to baking some of his favorite French delicacies in addition to doughnuts) and helped eat the jam until only Fraser’s sexy Mountie boots were buried. With the assistance of Officer Besbriss (who’d mostly stood back watching the rescue as she smart and didn’t just jump into oddball circumstances like the idiot men at the 2-7), Fraser was able to pull his feet free of the sticky mess and climb out of the vat.
After facing his fear to save his beloved two-legged companion, Diefenbaker (aka SuperwolfTM -- or was it the other way around?) was no longer held back by anything. He went on to rid Chicago of crime. And Fraser and the Rays lived happily ever after in Kowalski’s tiny one-bedroom apartment.
The End