"Holy crap!" Voss's blood ran cold. He instinctively shoved Tom and Jerry behind him.
"Hey, kid." The bald thug stepped forward, flipping open a knife.
"Hand over the cash, and we'll act like this never happened. Got it?"
The rest of the crew drew blades too, steel glinting under the alley's weak light.
Voss's legs trembled, but he still spread his arms, shielding his friends. "You can take the money… but you're not laying a finger on them!"
"Friends?" one of the punks sneered. "You mean those two little pests?"
"Tom! Jerry! Run!" Voss shouted, voice cracking. "I'll hold them off!"
He was terrified—every muscle in his body shook—but still he stood there, ready to take the hit.
Tom and Jerry froze, staring at the human who was trembling in fear yet refusing to move aside. Something warm surged in their chests.
They glanced at each other, and in that look was the same decision.
Suddenly, their bodies blurred, outlines flickering like candlelight.
"What the—?" Voss's eyes went wide.
In the blink of an eye, Tom and Jerry stood transformed. Both wore black tricorn hats tipped with plumes that swayed in the breeze. Flowing black cloaks trailed dramatically behind them, and in their hands gleamed polished rapiers—slender, elegant, deadly beautiful.
They looked like swashbucklers torn straight from an old European court.
"Holy cow… what the hell is this?!" Voss gaped. "Some kind of disguise spell?"
The thugs hesitated, taken aback—then burst out laughing.
"Hah! You think this scares us?" the bald man jeered.
"They're just animals with toys!"
"What's a cat and a mouse gonna do, huh? I'll knock them flat myself!"
The gang moved in, still mocking.
But the laughter died fast.
Because what they faced wasn't just a cat and mouse—it was the legendary duo's strongest form: the Western Swordsmen.
Tom and Jerry lunged as one. Their rapiers flashed silver arcs beneath the moonlight.
Swish! Swish! Swish!
"Wha—?!" The bald thug froze as fabric fluttered around him.
He looked down. His jacket, shirt, and pants were gone—sliced clean off. All that remained was a pair of garish boxers.
"Ahhh! My clothes!"
The others shrieked as well. Every last one had been stripped bare to their underwear, their outfits shredded in perfect cuts. Not a scratch on their skin.
"This—this isn't possible!" the lanky thug stammered.
"They're monsters! Monsters!"
Tom twirled his rapier with a flourish, catching it neatly. Jerry bowed with an elegant swordsman's salute.
Their smug expressions said it all: Too easy. Try harder next time, boys.
"Ghosts! They're freakin' ghosts!" the bald man howled.
The five of them bolted down the alley in nothing but underwear, screaming, "Monsters! Monsters!" as they scattered into the night.
Scraps of clothing drifted to the ground like confetti.
Voss stood frozen, mouth hanging open. "Tom… Jerry… what… what was that?"
As quickly as it appeared, the swashbuckler attire dissolved, fading back into their regular forms. The cat and mouse scratched their heads sheepishly, like it was no big deal.
"That was awesome!" Voss suddenly yelled, jumping in excitement. "You two were like superheroes! That swordplay—ten times cooler than anything I've seen in movies!"
Tom puffed his chest with pride, while Jerry struck a cheeky victory pose.
"But… why protect me?" Voss's excitement softened. "I told you to run."
The two exchanged a glance before wrapping their little arms around his legs, hugging tight.
That was their answer. Partners don't run. Family doesn't abandon each other.
"You guys…" Voss's eyes stung. He knelt and pulled them into his arms. "Thank you."
The three of them clung together in that dark alley, their bond forged stronger than ever.
"Alright, enough mushy stuff." Voss wiped his face, forcing a grin. "Let's head home and celebrate. Today was huge!"
As they walked, Voss tilted his head. "So… that transformation. You two got other forms too?"
Tom and Jerry only traded mysterious smiles, saying nothing. Some secrets could wait.
Not long after they left, a man in dark glasses, tapping a white cane, stopped at the very spot. Though blind, he tilted his head, as if "seeing" something in the night.
"A man… a cat… and a mouse. When did Hell's Kitchen get such an odd trio?" he murmured with a crooked smile. "Interesting."
Back home, Voss tucked the cash away, then pulled three beers from the fridge.
"Cheers—to friendship!" he said, raising his can.
Tom and Jerry clinked theirs against his, grinning.
"Tomorrow, Tom plays at the restaurant again, and I'll get us a street performance permit," Voss planned aloud. "Once we've got both, we'll be set. No more scraping by."
Tom nodded eagerly. Jerry was already daydreaming about the life ahead.
"As for those thugs…" Voss chuckled nervously. "Think they'll come back?"
Tom and Jerry both gestured "no way." After tonight, those punks wouldn't dare.
Later, Voss lay in bed, staring at the stars through the window. His mind replayed everything: the roaring crowd at Times Square, Tom's dazzling performance at the "Blue Danube," the fight in the alley…
But what lingered most was that moment when Tom and Jerry chose him. They didn't run. They stood by his side.
"Maybe winding up in this world wasn't such a bad thing after all," he whispered.
With partners like these, what did he have to fear?