Chapter 9: Hank Khwaja Makes His Entrance

Tom Uchiha's eyes blazed with the fury of the Mangekyo Sharingan, the purple skeletal patterns swirling around his body like a menacing aura. But Jerry Senju, ever the stoic rival, refused to back down. A mighty clap of his hands sent tremors through the office floor as a colossal wooden rat lumbered into existence, clawing its way toward the surface. Just as the monstrous rodent threatened to erupt into the room, Edward's voice boomed through the chaos.

"Enough! This ends now!"

With the earth-shattering pronouncement, Tom and Jerry, locked in an intense duel of wills, reluctantly halted their displays of power. However, their eyes remained locked in a fierce battle of their own, each unwavering in their animosity.

"Change back," Edward commanded.

Heeding his command, their bodies receded from their fantastical forms. Edward pulled up their data panel. A satisfied smirk played on his lips – both Tom and Jerry had matured beyond their infantile stage, evolving into their first official profession: ninja.

"Alright, show me what you've got," Edward said, a curiosity peeking through his usual stoicism. "How long can you maintain those transformations?"

Tom and Jerry, ever the picture of perfect coordination (when it suited them), met each other's gaze. A silent conversation unfolded – a series of hand gestures that resembled a bizarre game of charades. Tom held up four fingers, and Jerry countered with three. Edward, unimpressed by their charade, remained impassive.

Sensing his disapproval, the two ninjas fumbled in a flurry of nervous glances and hastily adjusted their hand signals. Now, Tom sported three fingers, while Jerry sheepishly displayed four.

Edward's lips twitched, "Last chance, guys. How long?"

The weight of his seriousness settled in. Tom and Jerry, finally understanding the gravity of the situation, simultaneously thrust all ten fingers into the air. Edward noted the information with a nod – ten minutes of transformation time wasn't bad for starters.

"Not too shabby," he conceded, "but listen closely – no transformations without my permission. Clear?"

Jerry muttered a disgruntled response under his breath, a comment that didn't escape Tom's keen ears. In a flash, Tom scurried to Edward, eager to tattle on his rival. Jerry, anticipating the inevitable, whipped out a colossal black hammer emblazoned with the inscription "10000T" and swung it with cartoonish force toward Tom's head. The blow sent Tom plummeting into a seemingly bottomless pit.

Edward, unfazed by the slapstick brawl, didn't even flinch.

When Tom eventually clambered out of the pit that disappeared like never existed, he conjured a hammer of his own, mirroring Jerry's weapon. The two then descended into another chaotic chase scene. Their laughter echoed through the room.

The chase reached a comical climax when Jerry, in a moment of desperate strategy, leaped onto Tom's prized television. This act brought their playful brawl to a screeching halt – both remembered Edward's stern warning: these were their last remaining TVs.

With a shared glance, a silent truce was declared. They tiptoed out of the area, a cautious peace treaty in place. However, the moment they stepped beyond the TV's range, the familiar animosity flared back up, and the epic (yet slightly ridiculous) battle between Tom and Jerry resumed.

Meanwhile, oblivious to the resumed mayhem, the door creaked open, and Hank Khwaja sauntered in, a wide grin plastered across his face.

"Well, well, well, look who it is!" Edward exclaimed, a surprised smile breaking across his face. "Hank Khwaja! Where have you been hiding?"

"Hey there, boss!" Hank chuckled nervously. "Tony got me off to America for a while. Turns out, even with him vouching for me, there were some identity snags. Just got cleared recently, and you were the first person I thought to see. By the way, to avoid any future complications, now I'm called Walter O'Brien Khwaja. You can just call me Walter from now on."

Edward raised an eyebrow. "Alright, Walter. So, where are you staying? Got a place to crash?"

Walter shook his head sheepishly. "Actually, boss, I'm a little worse for wear. Lost everything, not even a penny to my name. Any chance of a little… advance on my salary?"

Edward reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a hefty envelope. "Here you go. Hundred grand in there. Get yourself whatever equipment you need. Remember you have those three PhDs, right? Logistics for the agency are all yours now."

"Thank you, boss!" Walter began, but his expression was cut short as a blur of blue and white fur slammed into him. Jerry, perched on his shoulder, had launched himself as a furry projectile. Before Walter could react, a giant, cartoonish cat wielding a hammer materialized in mid-air, aiming a devastating blow at his head.

Caught off guard, Walter instinctively raised his arms in a futile attempt to block the attack. A resounding "wham" echoed through the room, sending him reeling. Stars, both literal and metaphorical, swirled around his head as he wobbled precariously.

"Hehe, stars…" Walter mumbled before promptly fainting dead away.

Tom and Jerry, realizing the gravity of the situation, exchanged panicked glances. They quickly abandoned their playful brawl and scurried towards the unconscious Walter, carefully maneuvering him onto the sofa. Their usual antagonistic energy was replaced by a sheepish display of guilt as they approached Edward, heads bowed low.

"That's it," Edward declared sternly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Corner time for both of you. One corner each, and you don't move until Walter wakes up! Time to reflect on your actions."

Though they wanted to argue, Tom and Jerry knew better than to defy Edward when he was in this mood. With dejected pouts, they shuffled off to their designated corners.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Walter stirred. He sat up slowly, blinking away the remnants of dizziness. Edward was now engrossed in a meal, flanked by the two troublemakers who had caused his temporary death.

"Hey there, sleepyhead," Edward greeted, gesturing towards the food. "Join us for some grub. We'll head out to get your equipment afterward."

Walter simply nodded, his mind still processing the bizarre turn of events. After a moment's contemplation, he joined the group at the table and gingerly picked up a burger.

"Boss," he began hesitantly, pointing towards Tom and Jerry, "these wouldn't happen to be…?"

"My little companions," Edward interrupted with a smirk. "Don't let their appearance fool you. They pack a punch – combat skills that rival the world's strongest militaries. Their only problem? Stubborn personalities galore. But fret not, any injuries they inflict in… 'playful' situations… aren't life-threatening. Just a temporary knockout at most."

Walter stared at them, speechless, his mind struggling to comprehend the fantastical world he had just stepped into.

Once their appetites were satisfied, Edward issued instructions to his "pets" to keep watch over the office, then ushered Walter out the door, their destination: Jack's grocery store.

The bell above the door jingled merrily as Edward and Walter pushed open the entrance to Jack's grocery store. Edward, a regular here it seemed, received a familiar greeting from the proprietor himself.

"You again," Jack rumbled, peering over his spectacles for a fleeting moment before returning his attention to a particularly plump tomato. "If it isn't Ed Lee. And who might this strapping young lad be?"

Walter, wide-eyed and bewildered by the eccentric atmosphere, simply blinked at the question. Edward, ever the smooth operator, chuckled and stepped forward.

"This is Walter O'Brien Khwaja, our newest recruit. Goes by Walter from now on."

Jack grunted in acknowledgment, then gestured vaguely towards the overflowing shelves. "Ah, a newbie, eh? So, what can I interest you young lad in today? We've got everything from the finest imported caviar to the freshest local vegetables – well, everything except a decent cup of coffee, that is."

Walter, still reeling from the events of the morning (and the rather unorthodox welcome aboard), cast a questioning glance at Edward. "Boss, are you sure we're in the right place?"

Edward, sensing his new employee's apprehension, winked reassuringly. "Don't worry, Walter. Jack here is a bit of an enigma, but trust me, there's nothing he can't procure. Go ahead, tell him what you need for your setup."

Walter, with a tentative cough, launched into a rapid-fire list of technical jargon. Diodes, flux capacitors, and positronic integrators flew out of his mouth in a flash of scientific obscurity. Jack, surprisingly unfazed, listened patiently before scratching his beard thoughtfully.

"Hmm, fascinating contraptions you've got there, Walter," he rumbled. "Except for that… supercomputer business. That might require a bit more legwork on my end. But fret not, everything else on your list should be here by tomorrow morning. As for the price tag on all these odds and ends, we're looking at a cool $550,000. Cash or card?"

Walter's jaw nearly hit the floor. "So expensive?!"

Jack, unfazed by the outburst, simply shrugged. "That's actually quite the bargain for the quality of goods we're talking about. Up to you, sonny. Take it or leave it."

Edward, ever the pragmatist, shot a glance at Walter, who was busily scratching his head in a display of comical embarrassment. With a sigh, Edward stepped forward.

"Alright, alright," he conceded, pulling out a sleek credit card. "Have it all delivered to the building next door to the agency tomorrow. We recently acquired it."

As the transaction went through and Edward's account balance took a significant nosedive, a thought struck him. He turned back to Walter, who was now sheepishly browsing a rack of discount chewing gum.

"Speaking of the supercomputer," Edward began cautiously, "is that really crucial for your setup?"

Walter paused, considering the question with a furrowed brow. "Well, it's quite important, actually."

Edward nodded curtly. "Right then, Old Jack," he addressed the shopkeeper. "Can you see about getting that supercomputer as well?"

Jack raised an eyebrow. "I can but it won't be cheap. We're talking upwards of $20 million, and that's just an estimate. Could end up costing an arm and a leg. You sure you need all that processing power?"

Edward, unfazed by the hefty price tag, simply met Jack's gaze with unwavering confidence. "Sure, we do. And while you're at it, have your people whip up a base according to the specifications Walter here drew up. Top-notch security, the whole shebang."

Jack finally cracked a smile. He extended a calloused hand, which Edward reluctantly shook. A satisfying beep confirmed the transaction, and with a grimace that could only be described as heroic, Edward grabbed Walter by the collar and steered him out of the store.

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