Hello folks, it's me, DiamondArcanine! And I present to you, my newest story on ! (For you fans of Shadows of Darkness and Critical Velocity, don't worry; those stories have not been forgotten. ;) ) Before we begin, I must stress something: Yes, the main characters are in fact, fan characters. However, rest assured that none of them will.....
1: Be recolors of cannon characters.
2: Be related to cannon characters.
3: Be a cannon character's love interest.
4: Be faster then Sonic, stronger then Knuckles, etc, etc, ect.
Now that that's out of the way, it's time for the disclaimer:
Disclaimer: I don't own Sonic, Sat-AM, or anything offical relating to the series. However, I do own ALL fan characters that will make an appearance in this fic.
And now, enjoy the fic!
Robotropolis.
That name alone struck fear in the hearts of all Mobians, sending nightmarish, lurid visions into the very pools of their psyches. Deliriums of Mobians getting caught by SWATbots, robot hands wrapped around furry wrists, continuing with a reverie of them meeting face to face with the sinister Dr. Robotnik. They would then see the doctor's eyes staring them down, red pupils flickering in black irises, portraying a baleful, vindictive emotion within them.
Then there would be the vision of the Mobians being placed inside the roboticizer, a terrible, terrible device. The glass cylinder would slowly lower down, cutting them from off from the outside world. A lever would be pulled. Rings of blue light would slowly pass up and down the Mobian's bodies, scanning them.
And then the screams would begin.
Shrilling screams would come out of their mouths, filled with pain and agony. Pain, from the process-fur and flesh being torn off their bodies and being replaced by chromium-plated metal, electrical energy running through circuitry, substituting blood rushing through veins. Agony, from the fact that when the process was at last completed, it would mean destruction of their very free will. They would be no more than robotic shells, slaves to Robotnik's every whim.
Blaire Fields knew wll the hazards Robotropolis carried. But if the nineteen year-old Siberian Husky was afraid, she sure didn't show it. In fact, her face conveyed a sense of acute calmness and composure, almost as if she was simply walking through a tranquil forest in the winter. As she trekked across the dreary streets of the city, her blue eyes scanned the vicinity, searching for any sort of danger.
Her paws, protected by brick red leather gloves moved to the pocket of a sleeveless trench coat of a dark blue material. From the pouch, Blaire pulled out a metal tin. Her eyes still looking ahead, she opened the small receptacle's lid. Inside, it held several chocolate mints, the ultimate snack, at least in Blaire's opinion. She brought that candy inside her mouth, teeth breaking the chocolate skin, savoring the cool, sweet flavor of the half-melted mint filling.
"Whoever created these things really knew what they were doing!"
This whole time, the young Mobian never took her eyes off the dreary horizon in front of her. Her eyes moved from side to side, left to right, as she walked along the asphalt street. Tall structures, in shades of blue and hues of grey, littered her vision. But it was one in particular that Blaire was really focused on. Her paws reached for a pair of ebony black binoculars clipped to a loop on her blue jeans. She removed the telescoping device and brought in to her eyes, setting it on the bridge of her lavender muzzle.
"There it is…the building where the roboticizer is located."
The scopes rested on a rather large building. Thick, dark grey aluminum sheets formed the walls, connected together by half-rusted nails. A large steel door was located at the southern side of the structure. There were no windows, but a ventilation shaft, situated in the west wall, was large enough for a Mobian to crawl through.
Blaire, nodding silently, calmly removed her binoculars from her face. Upon clipping them back on the loop of her jeans, the canine broke into a run. She sprinted at a steady pace, dark purple boots hitting grey pavement, 'till she was a hundred feet from the building of interest. Then, keeping her back flattened against any walls nearby, Blaire silently made her way to the building. Occasionally, she would stop to look over her shoulders and make sure no one was following her. She saw several SWATbots passing by, on patrol, the dog wagered, but not one of them sighted her.
Finally, her back was touching the south wall of the edifice, right besides the door. Blaire took a deep breath to ready herself for what she was about to do next. She grabbed a black p250 SIG SAUER from inside her trench coat, took a clip of ammo from the chest pocket of her sleeveless red shirt, and placed it inside the gun. The canine cocked the SIG and held it raised to the side with one hand, arms bent at the elbows. With her other hand, Blaire knocked on the steel entrance of the building.
"Okay, I'm going in!"
The door rose up, like that on a garage, revealing a tall SWATbot. It took one look, just a passing glance at Blaire, and began firing on the purple-furred husky. Salvos of lasers filled the area, neon blue lights capable of slicing through steel. Blaire deftly dodged the beams, for her reflexes were as sharp as needles, the complete opposite of her rather low defense. She duck, weaved, rolled, and jumped her way to the roboticizer. The humanoid robot again aimed a laser-laden wrist at the dog. It didn't have a chance to fire however, for a bullet from Blaire's SIG tore through the neck, taking off the android's head. The dome-shaped cranium hit the metal floor with a reverberating clank. The young dog sauntered over to the head and slid it away from her path with the side of her boot, the chromium scrapping the steel terrazzo in the process.
Blaire approached the roboticizer, her eyes meeting that of a group of Mobians standing nearby. Relief gleamed in their eyes, accepting the fact that they had another chance to keep their free will and normal bodies. The Siberian Husky could see the emotional respite clear as day. With a nod in their general direction, she turned her handgun toward a control panel and fired two shots at it. Each bullet hit its mark, leaving a smoking hole in its wake.
"You all are free to go," Blaire declared with a smile.
"How can we ever thank you?" asked a red ferret.
"No need to. The relief on your faces gives all the thanks I need."
"Please, tell us your name at least," a grey hedgehog wanted to know.
"Agent Blaire Fields."
"Are you one of those 'freedom fighters' we've heard about?" inquired a green rabbit.
"You could call me that."
"What group?" a yellow cat questioned.
Blaire had turned to walk back to where she had come from, when that question reached her ears. She paused for a moment, and smirked slightly as she turned her head back to the group.
"The Oakland Resistance Division."
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The group of Mobians freed, Blaire could return home. Silently, dark blue trench coat pressing against grey and blue parapets, the Siberian Husky stealthily tried to make her way out of Robotropolis. Her eyes scanned the horizon, those black pupils following the cerulean irises. Her feet stepped out from side to side, in a shuffling movement. Closer, she crept, knowing well that with each step she'd be ever closer to the outside of Robotropolis.
Blaire's ears twitched back when they picked up the sound of clanking footsteps coming her way. She flattened her back more and slowed down her shuffle to a snail's pace. She was quiet, but still calm, her face betraying no alarm. After five years of dealing with danger like the SWATbots that were approaching her, the purple-furred canine was used to situations like this.
When she at last got to the end of a wall-to her it felt like several minutes at the pace she was going-Blaire took this moment to see if the danger had passed. The sounds of SWATbot footsteps had grown softer, more subdued, then when she had first heard them.
"Now, let's see if that patrol is leaving…"
It wasn't.
Only when she peered behind that wall, head half hidden by that dull navy tone, did Blaire learn the truth. The footsteps had only quieted because the perambulation had been stopping. Those humanoid robots had reached their post, halting when they did so. Blaire shook her head in annoyance. To get out of Robotropolis-and later back home-the dog would have to sneak though a narrow alley. The problem with this was that Robotnik had programmed the SWATbots in a way that when they stopped for a daily patrol, they blocked the alleyway's exit.
"Great…"
Blaire would have deeply sighed that very moment had the SWATbots not been so close to her. Instead, the young Mobian opted simply to roll her eyes, those twin irises and pupils forming a tight circle. The only way to get out of this dismal metropolis and a bunch of robots-all of them sporting the same exact design, each automaton possessing a monotonous appearance-were blocking the egress.
Blaire knew very well that she would not be able to sneak past those SWATbots. The line was so tightly packed that she couldn't slip past them and even if she could, they were bound to spot her anyway. So, she would have to use another means to get past them.
She would have to fight.
" Luckily for me, an O.R.D Agent is always prepared."
While in thought, Blaire's gloved paw reached for a dark navy hilt sticking out of a black scabbard. Slowly, she pulled out a weapon she favored over her 250 SIG SAUER, very much so, in fact. It was a specially designed saber. The blade was made of burnished cerulean-colored steel, dyed that way by an accomplished blacksmith. If the numerous thick smog clouds had not blocked it, the sword would have gleamed in the sunlight.
It was a simple sword, but one of Blaire's most prized possessions.
"My trusty Sapphire Blade. I hope it serves me well again,"
Blaire cleared her throat, before approaching the SWATbots. As she walked, a slight wave of anxiety washed over her body, her purple fur ruffled with nervousness. She knew she was outnumbered, and she knew that all any one of them had to do to defeat her would be to fire a laser through certain parts of her body. Not only that, but one of her weakness-which ran from the fact that the Siberian Husky's fighting skills sharply declined in those overbearingly hot temperatures to her being unable to use the Cyrokinesis she had been gifted with since her childhood when the temperature was more than thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit-was that she had relatively low defense. Just a few strong blows during a battle, and Blaire would be declared defeated.
"This'll be a tough fight, but I think everything will work out in the end."
The Siberian Husky, saber in hand, steadily strolled on over to the column of SWATbots.
"Sorry to break up your procession, but I believe you are all in my way," Blaire pointed out, effectively gathering the attention of the dark blue androids. In unison, they turned in the direction of the purple-furred Mobian and raised their laser-laden wrists at her, aiming for spots that could either cause serious injury or even death if they hit.
"Intruder Alert! Detain by order of Robotnik!" came a dozen digitized voices. Soon, the SWATbots commenced with the beams, and the battle began.
Blaire took care of the first of around a dozen SWATbots relatively easy. She sprang into the air, avoiding the carving fluorescent blue lights in the process. As she came down, she sighted a robot out of the corner of her eyes. Her Sapphire Blade outstretched, the young dog twisted her body around a total of three times. The first slice cut off a good chunk of the automaton's shoulder. The second, sliced a chip out of the robotic soldier's head. Finally, the third slash severed through some of the wires and circuits controlling the SWATbot. With this final blow, the android fell to the tarmac in a metallic heap, the chrome parts clanging against each other in the process.
After she eliminated the first SWATbot however, Blaire was put into quite a difficult situation. When she landed, the Siberian Husky quickly found out that she was right in the middle of an onslaught of lasers.
"Oh shoot…" she managed to mutter through gritted teeth, her ears flat on the back of her head as she nervously looked around the battle scene. A neon blue laser moved behind the dog, aiming at the back of her head. Blaire barely managed to duck underneath the beam, after her ears picked up its telltale hum.
"I was right…this is not going to be easy."
A wave of lasers fired from the wrists of the eleven still able SWATbots. Blaire had to perform several maneuvers, barely dodging some of the attacks as they came after her. She jumped, ducked, sidestepped, weaved, and even somersaulted out of harm's way. At one point, Blaire leapt to her feet after rolling to avoid several beams. She turned on her heels once, her sword carried low as the blade sliced off the right leg of the nearest SWATbot. As the robot fell, however, it managed to fire one last laser. The hum of the fluorescent cerulean beam was picked up by Blaire's ears. She turned her body to see the ray coming behind her-
A second later and she would have felt a rush of searing white hot pain materializing from her left shoulder.
Blaire cried out in as she tripped and fell to her knees. Sweat rolled of her brow as her breath came in quick, shallow gasps, the husky's body quivering as she tried to regain her composure.
"Calm down Blaire…calm down...It could have been worse…they could have aimed for…my heart…"
Her collect demeanor returning little by little, Blaire returned to the matter at hand. Getting past those SWATbots. Soon, her ears picked up the hum of a number of rays behind her. Like lightning, the dog turned her head to see flashes of blue behind her. She gasped once, her eyes wide as she scrambled to her feet. The canine backed up several feet, before turning around and sprinting out of the alley.
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Blaire ran across Robotropolis, her boots pounding against the jet black pavement of the conurbation's streets. Constantly, she glanced over her shoulders to make sure not one of Robotnik's robots was following her. Blaire's feet ached as she loped, but she paid it no heed to the pain she felt-all she was concerned about was getting out of the city before anymore lasers hit her. Sweat poured off the Siberian Husky, splashing onto the ground below.
"Keep going Blaire, keep going! Just a couple hundred more feet and I'll be out of Robotropolis. And then…I can relax. For the most part," the purple-furred husky thought, remembering that beyond the city lay another threat.
Still, Blaire ran on, her lungs burning as the metropolis's egress became closer to her range of vision. A hundred feet, seventy-five feet, fifty, twenty-five, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two… That final step was like a breath of fresh air, a huge relief, the light of hope to one Blaire Fields. Almost immediately after crossing the border the separated Robotropolis from the grasslands, the Siberian Husky collapsed to her hands and knees. Her lungs were practically crying out for air, as the canine gasped for breath.
"Whew! Talk about a close call. That'll teach me to jump in the middle of a bunch of SWATbot laser fire!"
When Blaire had finally had a chance to catch her breath, she slowly stood up. Her eyes set on the horizon, the dog began to walk towards the south, the direction of her home. Before she took that step however, she turned around and looked back at Robotropolis. Or more specifically, a pile of rubble on its southern outskirts.
Grey bricks, weathered several places by erosion-the stale winds that blew through the city, the acid rain pelting the ground, and the general day-to-day pollution-made up the bulk of the mound. Shards of broken glass, once forming whole and lustrous objects, were now dull with a fine film of dust on nearly each portion. This seemingly unimportant pile of rubbish had once been worth something to one Blaire Fields. She had passed by this area several times during her years as an Oakland Resistance Division Agent, and the very sight of it never failed to bring her back. Back to a time when unlimited happiness existed. A time when a Mobian wasn't in constant fear of their lives and free will. A time…when the future looked bright.
Blaire sighed deeply at the sight. Her ears hung low in sadness and the sight she was seeing hurt more than a laser-induced wound ever would. The canine swallowed hard and looked away, not wanting to see any more. Finally, after taking a deep breath which brought her head up, the husky resumed walking, her trench coat billowing lightly behind her……………………………………………… ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
Eventually, after several minutes of hiking through a grassy plain, those blue eyes of Blaire's caught sight of a cluster of several large oak trees. The dog smiled when she noticed the familiar vista.
"Oakland Village. Home sweet home." the canine said to herself, as she headed to the eastern part of the town.
Oakland Village lived up to its name. The entire town was encircled by rather large oak trees. This flora was also responsible for keeping the community hidden from Robotnik and other potential threats of similar nature. Even after all these years-over ten since the sinister doctor took over the capital city known as Mobotropolis. The village itself was home to many species of Mobians, from hedgehogs to foxes, living in small chalets built from sturdy logs. Unlike a certain place know as Knothole Village, Oakland was not originally meant to be refuge during times of crisis. It was simply just a community, many of its residences having lived there before the coup d'état.
Eventually, Blaire found herself near a circle of oaks. In the middle, there was a large, thin stone slab. The Siberian Husky turned to a cluster of vines hanging from one of the large trees. She clutched one of the lianas, and pulled it down in a westward diagonal motion. As she performed this action, Blaire noticed the slab moving, revealing a gaping hole. Limestone steps lead down into the hollow cavity. Silently, the purple-furred Mobian walked down the staircase-into the Oakland Resistance Division headquarters.
Blaire walked through the front area of the headquarters, making her way to the room her team stayed in. The O.R.D center of operations was a bit on the technical side, the result of the refurnishing technological parts that they collected from Robotroplis's junk piles. While not nearly as hi-tech as the dreary city itself, the Resistance Division did have some nice technological equipment. Computers were common around the base, connected to power outlets with the electricity made by large generators located in a sizable room.
"Well, I might have had a few rough moments, but I'm proud to say this whole thing was a success."
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"Drake, do you have those roasted nuts I asked for?" came a voice from one end of a large room. A sea green-furred Alpine Chipmunk looked over his shoulders as a Bengal Tiger entered the room, carrying a brown paper sack.
Without saying a word, Agent Drake McStrype set down the sack onto a well-sanded wooden table. Just as silently, he opened the bag, and pulled out a much smaller container. Still not speaking, but with a smile on his furry white muzzle, the tiger handed it to the chipmunk.
"Thanks Drake!"
"Don't mention it, Chester," the red-striped cat said, taking out another container, this one with the telltale scent of spaghetti emitting from the inside.
Chester Chipston, an agent just like Drake, eagerly opened the container in his hands, taking in the aroma of freshly roasted nuts. He looked at the contents of the sack, ready to scoop up a big pawful of the edible delights. But when he looked inside…
"Wait a minute, there are pecans in here!"
Confused, Drake McStrype lifted his head to look the chipmunk in the eye. "So? They're nuts. I don't see the difference."
"Well, I don't like pecans. Pecans taste terrible, and the husks stain my fur brown and black. Those stains are impossible to get out by washing and they take two weeks to wear out. Two whole weeks!" the Alpine Chipmunk complained.
Drake shook his head. "Like I said, they're just nuts. Besides, you have gloves on," the tiger stated, glancing at the fingerless gloves Chester was currently wearing, the leather a dark burgundy.
"The husks will stain my gloves too. Nothing helps. Unless you know where I can find some disposable rubber gloves that is."
"Nope," the yellow-furred tiger said simply, digging a fork into his spaghetti.
"Even if you did, that wouldn't improve the taste. Ugh, how I hate the taste of pecans."
Drake silently shrugged, not understanding what the big deal was. There were certain kinds of pastas and meats he didn't like, but that didn't mean he complained about it if he was served them. Of course, being a tiger who liked to keep to himself, he didn't really complain in general unless something was really annoying him. With a connected sigh, he leaned back on his chair and continued eating. Meanwhile, a grimacing Chester was busily picking out the pecans, grabbing them with the very tips of his fingers.
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Calmly, a pack of chocolate mints in her paws, Blaire continued to make her way through the O.R.D base. By this time, she had found herself in the teams' quarters. The garrisons were made up of several hallways, each marked by a single letter of the alphabet on wooden tablets set off to the side. A group of numbers would follow shortly after. Blaire had decided to turn into the final of the 'K' halls, when a familiar voice beckoned her.
"Hey Blaire, how'd your mission go?"
The canine looked ahead to see a Timber Wolf around her age. "Hey Aurora," she answered. "It went well. I saved some Mobians from Robotization, however, I almost didn't make it back in one piece. " the dog said the last part of her statement in an uneasy tone of voice
Aurora Lunetane cringed in response. "Eesh. Let me guess, SWATbots?"
The Siberian Husky nodded. "Yep, one almost got me right in the shoulder."
"Ouch."
"Exactly," Blaire began. "So, how did everything go while I was gone?" the canine asked, arms crossed over her chest, and a grin on her lavender muzzle.
"Things went very well," the Timber Wolf answered, crossing arms with paws protected by purple gloves over one green T-Shirt and a red buttoned-up vest. "Drake went out to get us some food. He should be back by now."
"Good job Aurora," the purple-furred Mobian said with a smile, her paw on her best friend's shoulders. "I knew I could count on my second-in-command."
The pastel blue canine chuckled a bit as she ran her paws over her ears. "Well, I really didn't have to do much, but thanks anyway Blaire. Come on, Drake and Chester are probably wondering what happened to me."
"Very well, Aurora. Let's go," the Siberian Husky said, resuming her walk, the Timber Wolf besides her. The dog led her best friend over to a wooden door. Nailed securely in the center was a plaque reading 'K-87', the team that Blaire led. The dog rapped on that finely sanded lumber, trying to get the attention of the tiger and the chipmunk inside.
Drake's ears perked up at the sound of someone knocking on the door. Without saying a word, the yellow furred cat got up from his dinner. A pair of paws covered by dark blue gloves, twin green stripes running down from the cuffs, adjusted the collar of his dark green jacket as he walked up to the entrance. Once he got there, his strong paws clutched the handle, twisting it once. He pulled back, opening the door. Smiling when he saw the two canines, Drake politely gestured them both inside with a wave of his paw.
"Thanks Drake," Blaire said to the team's Espionage Agent, a smile etched on her furry lavender muzzle as she and Aurora stepped inside.
The pastel blue-furred Timber Wolf ambled over to the team's Chief of Electronics, Chester Chipston. She had noticed the pile of pecans besides a brown paper sack that the Alpine Chipmunk was eating other kinds of nuts out of. A slight grimace was present on the green Mobian's face as he ate, chewing those edible nuts slowly.
"Order gone wrong again, Chester?"
The chipmunk sighed in response before speaking. "What part of 'no pecans' do they not understand? Unless Drake forgot to-"
The Bengal Tiger in question seemed to be able to read the mind of one Chester Chipston. In reality, he could do no such thing. However, it was in some way understandable how one could think that by what the cat said next.
"No I did not forget to remind the clerk."
Chester blinked once, unable to respond at first. Finally, he began to speak. "Then why is my order wrong?" Shaking his paw rapidly, he added, "Oh don't get me wrong, I believe you buddy. But still, when you tell someone that you don't want anything, you'd think they'd realize you don't want it."
Blaire, who had been leaning casually against the wall during this conversation, arms crossed over her chest, shrugged her shoulders. "I don't understand it either Chester. Though I think you should just learn to deal with it. After all, it's not like someone from the Division betrayed us or anything." the dog shuddered at the thought. "Eeesh, now that's something no one would want to go through."
All at once, the resonance of a strong paw rapping on the wooden door sounded out inside the underground room. With a rather contented sigh, Blaire stood up and walked up to the entrance, the knocking continuing. She grasped the knob and twisted it around. When she opened the door, she almost froze when she found out who had been knocking.
A tall, strongly-built Golden Retriever stood in front of the Siberian Husky. His black suit was well-kept and not a sliver of a wrinkle appeared on it. Those ebony boots of his were polished to a fine sheen. His gold fur looked smooth and very little of it was out of place on his body. His green eyes told of someone who was compassionate, yet at the same time as firm as the very walls of this base.
"Director Retroden!" The red-gloved right paw of Agent Blaire Fields moved up to her purple-furred forehead. Her paw pushed up against her brow, flat and carried at a slight angle. A respectful salute from one dog to another. Her hand soon slid off her brow, coming to a stop at her side as she spoke to the golden-furred canine.
"Is there anything you'd like for us to do, sir?" Blaire asked, her posture straight, hands hanging at her sides-not limply of course, but a bit on the stiff side.
"As a matter of fact, there is," Director Alan Retroden stated. "I need you and your team to infiltrate the Klawzax Unit headquarters. They've been a little slow these past few days, leading me to believe that they have been planning something behind our backs. I need you to confirm this theory, and if need be, stop them before they have a chance to carry out their schemes."
Blaire saluted him again. "We will do our best, Director."
"Very well then. Good luck to you and your team," Retroden said with a nod. Slowly, he turned around and strolled off, off to visit with other agents and their teams.
"Was that…who I thought it was?" that was the question asked by one Aurora Lunetane. Her sharp hearing had caught every detail of the conversation between the two dogs.
"That it was. Director Alan Retroden," said Blaire with a nod of her head. The husky turned to the other two members of her team and addressed them , along with the Timber Wolf in front of her. "Guys, we have been given an important assignment. The Director believes that the Klawzax Unit is planning some kind of sneaky little scam. And it's up to us to find out what it is-"
"-And stop it before it starts," finished Chester.
"Very good Chester," Blaire said with a grin. "You're catching on."
The Alpine Chipmunk shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, his orange vest pulling up in the process. "It was nothing really. That's what we have to do every time we're asked to gather information on a future plan of the Klawzax Unit's."
"In any case," Blaire began. "Grab your gear, we have an infiltration to stage."
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The Klawzax Unit was an organization not unlike that of the Oakland Resistance Division-except for one major difference. Formed several years after the take-over of Mobotropolis, the Unit did not try to resist the iron tenet of Dr. Robotnik. No, just the opposite-the group [i]supported[/i] what the sinister dictator was doing. Most of the members were convinced that fighting against Robotnik was the wrong thing to do- that it would not yield victory for the Mobians.
This caused problems between the Unit and other Mobians, most notable the Resistance Division. Anyone caught assisting the Klawzax Unit, unless they were known double agents working for the O.R.D or a similar resistance group, were assumed traitors. The Unit also considered anyone against them their enemies, sometimes killing those who opposed them-including O.R.D agents.
Their base lay underneath the ground-in-between Oakland Village and Robotropolis. Usually, there were around a trio of Klawzax Agents guarding the outside of the base. For the past few days however, things had been a little slower around the environs of the headquarters. Sometimes, there weren't [i]any[/i] agents acting as guards. One such time was earlier that day, when Blaire was returning from Robotropolis. Going to the city, the canine had to deal with a couple of those traitorous Mobians. But coming back from the conurbation, there were no Unit agents to slow her down.
Team K-87 hiked to the subversive base of the Klawzax Unit in complete silence, each of the four Mobians contemplating about the upcoming mission. Their faces were blank as they walked, hiding their true feelings. Feelings ranging from enthusiasm, all the way down to consternation on the other side of the emotional spectrum. Finally, the silence was broken by none other than one Chester Chipston.
"I will never understand."
Aurora couldn't help but ask, "Understand what? How anyone could support someone like Robotnik?"
The Alpine Chipmunk gave a short nod to his head. "You are exactly correct."
Drake's paw brushed against his round ears as he spoke. "Man, what were those Mobians thinking when they formed the Klawzax Unit?"
"Why don't you ask them? Or, you could read their minds," Chester said, remembering an earlier event from the day. "And ya wouldn't even need a bookmark to do it," the eighteen year-old chipmunk next to Drake inquired, in an attempt to add a bit of humor. A bit of dry humor that is, dry as a skeleton that had been lying in the desert for months on end. The sea green Mobian looked back at his friends, hoping to see them at least crack some smiles. Instead, he got a trio of raised eyebrows, a duo of crossed arms, and one pair of paws on hips.
Chester sighed deeply, as he turned his back on his fellow team mates. "Hmph! No sense of humor at all…
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The room had all the makings of one very high up in the rankings-the rankings of the Klawzax Unit, that is. The walls of the underground area had been carved into an almost perfect square, the opposite of the bowl-shaped rooms the majority of the base boasted. Silver trimmings stood in the corners, polished to a fine luster. A wooden self sat against the western part of the room, loose sheets of paper crammed inside. A wood desk stood off center, a Red Fox sitting at it.
The vulpine was busying herself, her green eyes looking over several documents. Her chin rested on the white gloved paw of her left paw, while the fingers of her right tapped the desk in sheer boredom. With a sigh, the red-furred Mobian adjusted her glasses-her eyesight had been slightly damaged during an extremely rigorous fight with an O.R.D agent. The vixen had eventually won the battle, but at a small cost-she could not perform any close-up work with some form of corrective lenses. However, this did not affect her fighting skills in the least.
"Scarlett Cyphon?"
Upon hearing her name spoken, the Red Fox lifted her head up, a glare on her face. In front of her was a Mobian rabbit, his fur a rusty brown hue. With a scowl on her white muzzle, the vixen stood up, removed her glasses, placed them on the desk, and silently approached the lagomorph.
"That's Lieutenant Scarlett Cyphon to you, pal."
"Y-yes, sorry about that, Lieutenant," the rabbit stuttered, his tone betraying complete nervousness. "I…must have…forgotten."
Scarlett gave a soft growl upon hearing that last word, a burning fire of sheer rage flickering within her eyes. Her shoulders-covered by a dark blue sweater and long black coat- tensed up, and her fist became tightly balled. The fox stood, her posture stock still and straight-it was almost like someone had sprayed a giant aerosol can full of starch over her body.
"You…'forgot?'"
Before, the rabbit was just nervous. Now, he was petrified with fear. He could feel his russet fur bristling, like he had just been the unfortunate victim of a lightning bolt. The Mobian shivered in terror-and dismay. Dismay resulting in him saying the wrong thing.
"You…forgot?"
How, oh how, could he have been so foolish?! He should have known that Scarlett had a temper almost akin to that of a volcano just about to erupt. That fox was not one you would want to get angry.
And he realized, that he had made a imprudent, and possibly even fatal mistake.
"Um…S-Lieutenant? I didn't mean it in that way. I was just...It was a spur of the moment thing. I'm sure you've had those before, right? Right?"
Scarlett said naught a word. Instead, her body still stiff, she turned around and headed for the southern wall of her room-the very one the rabbit had hoped she would ignore. Her eyes still full of ire, the vixen approached two wooden prongs sticking out of the dirt wall. Sitting on these tines was a sword-a longsword, to be more specific. Its polished blade was a steel grey, and the hilt an ebony black. This weapon represented Scarlett's main mode of combat-parlay. Sword fighting.
When he saw the fox pick up that sword, his ears straightened up, and his eyes were on the verge of bulging out of their sockets. This was a bad omen. The lagomorph cursed himself for what he had done.
He should not have been so hasty. He should have waited for a bit before coming to speak with Scarlett. He could have used a few minutes to think of something to say to the vulpine that would have spared him his life. But now…there was nothing he could do. For Scarlett was merciless, and when she those paws of hers took hold of her longsword's hilt, she meant business.
The rabbit knew what came next. But as he resigned himself to his fate, his one wish was that this was just a horrible nightmare, a bad reverie that he soon awaken from. He swallowed a lump that had gathered in his throat and shut tight those brown eyes of his. He did not want to see that blade coming for him.
But when it did, it was not how he expected.
Instead of the blade cutting through his skin, the rabbit felt cold steel touch his chin. Cold steel from the flat part of Scarlett's longsword. The lagomorphs felt his head being lifted up. Though he tried to keep his eyes shut, it was like some sort of mystical energy was forcing them open. And open them he did, finding himself looking straight into the eyes of one Scarlett Cyphon.
"Listen here, Agent Rusty. You should consider yourself lucky I'm keeping you alive." Scarlett snarled, a malicious smirk crossing her muzzle.
"You-you are?" Rusty asked, shocked, yet relieved beyond compare.
"Why yes. But only because I know you have something you need to tell me."
"How'd you know that?"
"Please Rusty, you can't be so foolish as to just barge into my room without some sort of reason. Actually, since you forgot to address me properly, maybe you are."
The rabbit trembled lightly, a lump gathering in his throat.
"Now, what is it you want to tell me?" Scarlett inquired.
"The boss wants to see you," Rusty said flatly, ears hanging low.
"Very well then." The fox slowly removed the sword's blade from the underside of the rabbit's chin as she straightened up. A sneer on her face, the vulpine placed her weapon of choice inside the scabbard hanging off the side of her black jeans. Running her fingers through the red fur atop her head, Scarlett sighed deeply. "Raxton's going to have my head if I just so happen to be late. If that Rusty wasn't such a fool…"
A soft growl emitting from her throat, the Red Fox slowly turned away from the brown-furred Mobian. Silently, she walked out of her room, her tail swinging from side to side. As she left, the vulpine failed to notice that Rusty let out the most relieved sigh he had ever released.
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The personal lair of Raxton Klawzax was even more impressive-looking then Scarlett's. And why wouldn't it? After all, Raxton was the leader of the Klawzax Unit, hence its name. This room too, was a perfect square, meticulously carved in the ground during months of hard labor. Gold embellishments rested in the corners, symbolizing the cougar's status. Shelves, the wood neatly sanded to a smooth and fine finish, had been placed against the walls. Lined within them, were several volumes of thick books, as well as stacks of papers, and documents. Standing near the right corner was a desk made of sturdy white pine. A lacquer coating had been painted on the surface, giving it a polished look.
The orange-furred cougar sat behind the desk, just as Scarlett had done before. However, he wasn't looking over some old documents. No, he was waiting for someone. The sinister cat sat in his chair, posture upright. His paws, covered by gloves of red and black, rested on the top of the desk, right on left.
A knock on the door captured Raxton's attention. In a deep voice, full of authority, he spoke.
"Come in."
The doorknob twisted once, and then Scarlett slowly forced it open. The red-furred Mobian stepped though the wood frame separating the hallway from Raxton's personal lair, a half-way innocent look on her face.
"Why, hello sir. I know what this might look like, but I can explain," the vixen began. "You see, I was in my room, looking over some documents, when Agent Rusty barged in, and-"
"Lieutenant Scarlett." Raxton boomed as he stood up, cutting her off. "Come here." The baleful cougar swept his arm around, stopping with his open palm facing the front of his desk.
The vulpine nodded, her shoulders tense with slight, but only slight, worry, and marched up to her superior. As soon as she halted, the fox's body became as stiff as a board nailed into the floor. Like lightning, Scarlett's right paw shifted upwards, until the edge was touching her forehead. She closed shut those eyes of hers, and placed her left paw behind the small of her back. This was the salute all Unit agents were required to give to Raxton.
The orange-furred feline gave a nod of approval in Scarlett's direction. "Alleviate, Lieutenant." he said, giving permission for the red-furred Mobian to relax.
Scarlett opened her eyes, as she brought her arms down to her sides. "What is it you want with me, sir?"
"It's about our latest assignment," Raxton explained. "As you know, we have come up with a way to bring a few Oakland Resistance Division Agents on our side."
"Yes sir. And might I add that it's a brilliant plan?" Scarlett grin wickedly, her paws clasped behind her back.
"You may," Raxton answered, a grin even more decadent and baleful then the fox's crossing his light brown-furred muzzle. He then leaned over, his right index finger tapping the top of his pine-wood desk. "I have a feeling that the O.R.D has realized that we have been plotting our latest scheme. If that's the case, then Director Allen Retroden will send a team of agents here, if he hasn't already."
"Ah," Scarlett began, realizing what her senior was getting at. "And you want me to…" he paw reached for her sword, grasping the black pommel hilt. A wicked smirk on her face, she pulled the weapon out of its scabbard, and held it in front of her face. As she ran her middle and index fingers up and down the grey steel of the blade, she finished her query. "…obliterate them, correct?"
The toothy grin on Raxton's face was so baleful, so malicious, that it would have froze the blood of weaker-willed Mobians. "Precisely."
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The lair of the Klawzax Unit was of similar build of the O.R.D's headquarters. This similarity lied mostly in the technological systems they used-like the Division, the Unit too had a few computers here and there. And like the Division, they got this technology from refurnished systems that were originally from Robotropolis.
Blaire and her team silently skulked through the dissident lair, their backs against the red clay wall. Eyes and ears open, the quartet of Mobians both looked and listened for the sights and sounds of danger. And danger in the Klawzax Unit headquarters was almost as common as that in Robotropolis. However, instead of humanoid robotic soldiers patrolling the area, flesh and blood Mobians made up the traitorous army.
"Well…so far, so good," Chester softly commented, pointing out the fact that they hadn't yet been spotted.
"True, but no one is to keep their guard down. The whole mission could be jeopardized if anyone sees us," Blaire reminded, her voice barely a whisper.
"I hate the lack of sound here," Aurora thought to herself, growing slightly uncomfortable with all the silence around her. As someone who was quite a talker, and music fan, the Timber Wolf relished in chatter and other such noises. But the only sounds she had heard were those of footsteps-definitely Unit agents, the wolf figured out-and the sound of Chester and Blaire's voices. However, Aurora knew now was not the time to complain about something like this. The team had a mission to complete, and there was no way this wolf would let her dislike of silence keep her from doing her job.
Thus, it was not Aurora who acted as the catalyst for the first quandary the team would find themselves in. That unfortunate distinction belonged to a certain Alpine Chipmunk known as Chester Chipston.
The sea green-furred Mobian had simply been slinking along, keeping his back flattened to the wall just like his friends were doing. His eyes were glued to the sight in front of him, Drake McStrype that is. However, he would later think that he should have glanced for a moment at the floor below him. For at that moment, the chipmunk's left boot-one of red leather, a green stripe running down the center, with two grey straps holding it in place-moved into a crack in the ground.
All at once, Chester found himself stumbling around, trying to keep his balance. His efforts, were futile. He ended up tripping, falling face first onto Drake, who in turn tumbled into Aurora, said wolf falling onto Blaire, thereby completing this chain of Mobian dominoes. Screams and grunts could be heard from the four as they slammed into each other.
With a groan, Blaire crawled out of the pile of Mobians she was at the bottom of. She then turned to Chester, a bit of anger glowing in her eyes. "Chester…," she began, placing a paw on her hip. "Could you perchance, watch where you're going?"
"Maybe you should watch your mouth, husky. It's not a good idea for a trespasser to be so loud while they're invading our base."
Upon hearing that voice, Blaire's head jerked to the front. Standing there, a rifle in hand, was a red squirrel, his smile almost psychotic.
"What do you want?" Blaire asked the Unit agent as she rose into a standing position, crossing her arms soon after.
"What do you think? There are only two options. You could either come to your senses and join us. Or, I could put around through each of your hearts. Your choices."
Blaire gave a simple 'heh' as she considered her options. "Let's see here, do I want to join a cult that supports someone who ruins the lives and wills of Mobians? Or, do I want a nine millimeter hole in my chest? Hmmm…neither, thank you very much. I prefer to go with choice number three."
When he heard that statement, the squirrel became quite confused. "Choice number three?" he inquired, squinting his right eye almost shut, his head tilted the left. "There's no choice number three!"
"That's what you think," came the voice of one Drake McStrype, as he raised his gun, a black metallic revolver christened the 'Ocearine Revolver. This firearm was a little different than a typical weapon of its class, as it could shoot at total of seven bullets-instead of the usual six-before needing to be reloaded.
When he saw the gun being raised, the squirrel began to get rather nervous-internally. Externally, he didn't look the least bit worried. "Do you really think that little pistol has a chance against this high-ranged rifle?" he asked the Bengal Tiger.
"As a matter of fact…," Drake stopped in mid-sentence and pulled the trigger on his revolver, a navy blue bullet flying out of the barrel. The squirrel had almost no time to react before the projectile tore through his carotid artery. He only emitted a single grunt, before his now-lifeless body fell to the ground.
"…I do."
Chester approached Drake, flashing a quick thumbs up in the process. "Excellent shooting there man. Really top notch!"
"It's all in the release," the tiger said with a nod and smile. "But now is not the time for a celebration."
"You're right Drake," Blaire said, agreeing with the Espionage Agent. "The party will have to wait until we've completed our assignment. Now come on, let's go." With that, the Siberian Husky resumed sneaking through the base, her friends following suite.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
Meanwhile, Scarlett leisurely walked through the halls of that underground base, smug confidence present on her face. It was clear she wasn't worried about the outcome of her future meeting with the agents O.R.D Director Allen Retroden had sent to spy on them. The red-furred vixen was confident that no matter who she was facing, she'd come out the victor. However, there was one team-or more specifically, one agent-that she really hoped she would come across…
And as she turned a corner, she played out a few possible scenarios in her mind. They were different, yes, but each ended the same-her, a satisfied smirk on her face, standing over a body that had just been impaled by her longsword. And that body belonged to one Mobian, and one Mobian only. It was the same Mobian that had defeated her in many a battle. But this time, she, Scarlett Cyphon, would be the victor.
She halted for just a moment, looking over her shoulder. To the casual observer-had there been one-it seemed as if Scarlett was waiting for someone. And that metaphorical casual observer would have thought correctly. The fox waited, albeit a bit impatient, for some sort of sign-be it the sound of footsteps echoing through the base, or the sight of a right shoe rounding the corner-of a team of O.R.D agents.
And at last, she saw it.
Dancing on the red clay wall, was a small group of shadows. Scarlett's eyes widened in sheer joy, and her ears leaned forward. The red-furred vulpine watched intently as the shadows formed into familiar shapes-shapes of which the fox recognized.
And they were shapes that she wanted to see.
With a self-centered smirk on her muzzle, Scarlett did a simple 'about face', and headed for a door on the other end of the hallway. She approached the wooden entryway, her arm already raised up, and her fist balled up. She gently tapped those glove-covered knuckles on the smooth timber, hoping to get an immediate reply from the one in the room.
"Yes?"
"Sergeant Shrapnel Torsile!" Scarlett cried, tensing up her shoulders. "I demand that you open this door. Immediately!"
A small groan could be heard from inside, followed by the sound of footsteps. After a few seconds, the footsteps ceased. Scarlett saw as the doorknob was twisted and the door pushed open. The fox's green eyes met the dark brown ones of a Mobian Mountain Weasel.
"Lieutenant Scarlett, what brings you here?" Shrapnel asked, a glower on his face.
"Business, my lower ranking colleague, simple business. Now let me in so I can explain in private!" With that, Scarlett pushed the weasel out of her way, sending him to the ground as she walked past.
"What on Mobius was that for?" Shrapnel questioned angrily, glaring at Scarlett as she walked to the end of the room. It, like that of the fox's and Raxton's, was an expansive place, shaped like a cube. Bronze trimmings lined the corner, signifying Shrapnel's rank as Sergeant and third-in-command for the Klawzax Unit. A bookshelf-it was not filled with hardbacks, but loose pieces of paper known to many in the business world as documents-rested in the north-east corner of the wall. A wood desk had been placed several feet from the south wall.
And it was to that desk Scarlett was making her way to.
The red-furred fox silently strolled behind that desk, a dissatisfied look on her face. That gloved-covered paw of hers reached for the pine chair behind it. She pulled it about a foot away, the legs scrapping the dirt terrazzo. Scarlett slumped down onto the seat, and used the strength of her body to move the chair back to its original spot.
Shrapnel pushed himself up of the floor and headed towards Scarlett. "Okay Lieutenant," he began to ask the vixen, "What is this all about?"
"As you know, we've been going over some…plans."
"By 'plans' do you mean our plot to ambush several members of the Oakland Resistance Division?"
"That's the one."
"What about it?"
"Well," Scarlett began, her eyes half closed, shoulders shrugged, "I figured we'd go over it again, to make sure that there are no flaws in the wondrous design Raxton and I came up with."
"Excuse me," Shrapnel said, crossing his arms and tilting his head to the left, "But I think you forgot to includemy name."
The red fox simply ignored the weasel's remark as she continued speaking. "Let's see. First, we send a little message to the O.R.D's headquarters, telling them that a group of Mobians had been captured by Dr. Robotnik and are set to be Roboticized."
"And then," the sergeant began, unenthusiastically though, "When the Oakland Resistance Division travels to Robotropolis, we ambush them in the SWATbot factory after they've shut it down."
"Then once we have those pathetic O.R.D agents trapped, we'll demand that they join us. And if they don't-"
"We blow the place…" Shrapnel stated, a toothy, icy grin crossing his face-it was the hot glare of Scarlett that melted it off his features.
"No," the red furred vixen began, unsheathing her longsword. "If some of them don't join us, I'll feed their life forces to my trusty blade here."
"Fascinating," the Mountain Weasel said flatly, disappointed with having his dreams of using explosive objects to eliminate Mobians that refused to join them shattered.
Scarlett simply ignored him, a smirk growing on her visage. The red-furred vixen slowly stood up out of the chair-that right paw of hers gently pushed her ears back flat on her head as she did so-and sauntered over to the door. Casually, she leaned against it, her left side brushing up alongside the wood, her arms crossed.
"You O.R.D. Agents might want to forget telling your director what you know. You'll be dead before then."
As soon as she heard that, Agent Blaire Fields felt the fur on the back of her neck bristle in nervousness. "How did she know we were here?"
"You didn't think you'd get this information without a fight, now did you?" Scarlett inquired, a smirk on her face.
On the other side of the door, Blaire silently cursed this turn of events. "[i]Darn it! I was hoping we'd learn what the Klawzax Unit was planning [b]without[/b] getting into another fight!"[/i] Her teeth gritted in frustration not often seen on her, the dog gripped the wooden door handle and twisted it once. She then pushed the access way open, finding herself staring right into the eyes of one Scarlett Cyphon.
"Tell me Scarlett," Blaire began, hands on her hips, "How did you know we were here?"
"It's very simple," the fox began, a sinister smile on her face. "Commander Raxton ushered me into his office, and told me that he had a feeling that Director Retroden would send a group of Oakland Resistance Division Agents such as yourselves to spy on us. So, I decided to wait outside the hall, until I saw a quartet of shadows on the wall. Your shadows. Then, I headed in here, and Shrapnel and I discussed the plan, and I hoped you would eavesdrop on us."
"Now wait just one moment," Chester began, swinging his hands from left to right in rapid succession. "You actually wanted use to eavesdrop? Isn't that kind of like saying 'We want to lose?' And by 'we', I mean 'you'."
The red fox simply chuckled, her eyes closed shut. "Oh no, you misunderstood. The Oakland Resistance Division is the one that will lose in the end. Unless…" the vixen quickly opened her eyes, gaze locked on Blaire.
"Unless what?" the purple-furred Siberian Husky asked, crossing her arms in the process.
"Unless you O.R.D agents join our cause," Shrapnel finished, knowing exactly what Scarlett was thinking. This action resulted in a red hot glare from the Lieutenant herself, who in turn received an ice cold glower from the brown-furred Mountain Weasel.
"Why would we want to do that?" Aurora inquired.
"An excellent question," Drake agreed, nodding his head.
"Don't you see?" Scarlett asked, not even focusing her stare on the wolf or the tiger-she still locked eyes with Blaire Fields. "If you join us, this war will be a few steps closer to being won!"
"Oh, I can think of a much better way to win the war. One that doesn't involve us being slaves to Dr. Robotnik's every whim," Blaire replied, anger in her voice.
"Get it through your head Blaire," Scarlett began. She then glanced over at Shrapnel, with a look on her face that said, 'This time, you may finish my sentence, Sergeant.'
It didn't take the weasel long to put the pieces of the facial recognition puzzle together. Thus, with a toothy smirk, Shrapnel took the stage, so to speak.
"Do you guys really think that fighting against Robotnik is the way to go?"
"Yes, we do," Blaire answered, straight and to the point. "Unlike you, we realize the danger Robotnik possesses. Would you like to be an emotionless robot? Because that's what you will be if you don't fight back."
"I find that a little ironic," Scarlett began, raising an eyebrow. "Haven't several of your members been roboticized because they refused to comply with Robotnik's rules? I don't see how fighting against him will solve anything."
"While it is true that we've lost several agents to the terror of Robotization, I still stand by my belief that we Mobians should-urk!"
The sensation of cold metal reached Blaire's chin, a force elevating her muzzle. What was causing it, the dog knew exactly. And as she rolled her eyes downward to meet the face of a certain red fox, a fierce look crossed Blaire's countenance. The canine slowly reached to the scabbard hanging from her left hip, her glove-covered paw then grasping the hilt of her saber.
"So, I see you want a fight, my rival. I was hoping to get out of here unscathed, but I guess my wish was shot down."
The clanking of clashing swords echoed through the room as Blaire swiftly swung her Sapphire Blade underneath Scarlett's longsword. The force off the strike caused the fox's blade to move up and away from the husky-Blaire came out with a small scratch on the bottom of her chin, but it was either that or a slit throat. The Siberian Husky then turned her head towards her team, and barked a single order.
"Guys, get back to headquarters and warn the division!"
Aurora stepped forward, a concerned look on her face. "But Blaire, what about you?"
"Don't worry about me, Aurora," the dog said to her best friend, barely having time to duck under a thrust from Scarlett's longsword. "Just make sure everyone back at headquarters knows what these creeps are doing!" she yelled, referring obviously to the Klawzax Unit.
The rest of Team K-87 just stood there for several seconds, watching their leader gallantly fighting Scarlett. They did not want to leave their friend behind, but she had given them an order they needed to follow. Finally, Aurora broke the silence.
"Chester, Drake, let's go."
Just like that, the order had been issued from the team's Second-in-Command. Drake and Chester each gave a collective nod, turned around and headed out the door.
Aurora stayed put for a little while longer, her gaze focused on the swordfight in front of her. The Timber Wolf so wanted to help Blaire out and for a second, she almost brought her paw to the weapon hanging from her belt-it was a lavender-dyed boomerang with a sharp metal point secured on each end; The Lunerang. And yet…she knew she had to obey a direct order. The lives of several Mobians depended on her and the guys getting back to headquarters safely.
With a sigh, the wolf headed for the door in a burst of speed and worked on heading back to Chester and Drake. But as she ran, she hoped they didn't have to sacrifice the life of one Mobian, even if it was to save several…
Out of the corners of her eyes did Scarlett see the three O.R.D agents high-tail it. "Shrapnel!" she cried, taking the brunt of a hack and slash attack from Blaire's saber-she cringed as the razor-sharp blade created a long gash across her left side-"Follow them! Make sure they don't get back alive!"
"With pleasure…" the weasel drawled, reaching for a time bomb strapped to his belt, a sinister smirk on his muzzle. The sergeant wasted not a moment heading for the door, eager to put his volatile weapon to work.
"I can't use this in the base, or I'd obviously be risking its destruction. But once I'm outside, those pathetic Oakland Resistance Division Agents will go to pieces. Literally."
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
Back at the room of Sergeant Shrapnel Torsile, Blaire and Scarlett continued to have at it. The steel blades of a pair of swords constantly clashed against each other as the two Mobians parleyed. Blaire suddenly formed an uppercut slash, the blade of her saber putting a gash along Scarlett's right side. The vixen grunted in pain as the strike connected and backed up a couple of steps.
"Hmmm…she's getting better. I'll give her that. But her skills are still light-years away from mine!"
Had Scarlett said that out loud, any Mobian who knew her would give her a crazy look. For they would wonder exactly how the fox could be the better swordsman between her and Blaire, when it was the husky who had emerged the victor in most of their mêlées. However, this logic did not apply to Scarlett- She truly believed her skills were superior to that of Blaire's.
The vixen quickly resumed the battle. She slashed her sword in a diagonal fashion, aiming for her opponent's chest and torso. However, Blaire's expert reflexes were on her side. The Siberian Husky ducked underneath the bladed weapon, and quickly counter-attacked. She turned on her heels, her saber outstretched. She was hoping for the tip of her Sapphire Blade to slice the fox's torso.
However, her hopes were soon shattered.
While Blaire was twisting her body around, Scarlett formulated an immediate mental plan. A vindictive grin growing on her muzzle, the vulpine tightened the grip she had on the longsword with her right paw, and wrapped the left paw around the hilt in the same matter. Then-with a move reminiscent of an all-star baseball player up at bat, ready to score a homerun-the Mobian swung her weapon.
Whack
That was the sound the flat part of the steel blade made when it connected with the side of Blaire's head. A prolonged groaned escaping from her lips, the canine staggered backwards several feet in a daze. She then tripped over her feet, falling onto her side with a thud. As she placed a paw over the area where a tiny amount of pain was radiating, her fingers touched a small lump protruding out of the leftmost side of her cranium.
For a moment, the Siberian Husky had forgotten about the fight. However, she would soon snap out of this little bout of amnesia.
Scarlett's sword came after Blaire again. Only this time, it wasn't the flat part aimed at the side of her head-it was a cutting edge intended for her throat. It was of great luck for the dog that she just so happened to look up at that moment. Her eyes, suddenly growing wide in surprise, locked on to the steel blade heading towards her. A burst of adrenaline kicking in, Blaire quickly slammed her saber into the underside of the longsword, shifting it upwards.
"Curses! Foiled again!" Scarlett thought, repeating a somewhat famous quote in her mind. "But not for long…"
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The crater stretched several feet across, smoke still rising from the center. The time bomb Shrapnel had brought did its job, and it did it well-exploding into several hundred pieces. However, the weasel's original intent was to take those three Oakland Resistance Division members down. The plan was flawless, at least in Shrapnel's mind. But, one's own mind was capable of fabricating the opposite of fate had planned.
The weasel had, through the use of trees camouflaging his movements, managed to get ahead of the likes of Aurora, Drake, and Chester. The sergeant then ran over to a bare patch of land, placing his bomb on the ground besides him even before he stopped his lope. Shrapnel patted the dirt below, checking to make sure it was soft enough for him to dig with his bare paws. The easy shifting of the soil confirmed this, and the Mobian went to work, scooping up the earth into a small pile.
After a while, Shrapnel had managed to dig a hole large enough to place the bomb. He had set the weapon inside and pushed the dirt on it, patting it down flat afterwards. Once the trap was set, he wasted not one moment springing to his feet and running behind a large tree. All that had been left to do, was wait.
However, he had not factored in Aurora's speed. The wolf steadily clocked one hundred and ten miles per hour as she made her way across the land-although she did stop for some short moments to let her slower comrades catch up with her. With this speed, she was quickly able reach a spot where she would be able to catch sight of Shrapnel setting the bomb.
At first, the Timber Wolf had to do a double take, not really believing what she was seeing. But a second look confirmed her suspicions. The canine, planting her feet firmly in the ground, halted her sprint, dust kicking up in the process. She then attempted to wait for her comrades-as she looked back at the weasel, she had to fight an urge to bite down on her lip, as she hoped Chester and Drake would reach her before the bomb detonated. After all, she'd rather get back to Oakland Village in [i]just[/i] one piece.
"Hurry guys, hurry…"
It was shortly before the brown-furred weasel had finished pushing a pile of dirt onto the bomb that Chester appeared in the distance, Drake not too far behind. It was clear that the Alpine Chipmunk was exhausted, what with the mint green fur on his brow plastered with sweat. The Bengal Tiger behind him was also feeling a little fatigued, his breath coming in short bursts.
"Why'd you stop Au-?" Just as soon as he opened his month to speak did Chester slam it shut. One glance at Shrapnel's back was all he needed to know what was going on. After several years of being an O.R.D agent, he knew well how the mind of that weasel worked, to an extent. Him planting a bomb was no surprise to the well-experienced chipmunk.
"How are we going to get past The Mad Bomber?" Chester had asked, lowering his voice to a whisper.
Slowly, that paw of Aurora's had lowered itself to the belt weaved through the loops of her khaki pants. Her fingers wrapped around the handle of her SIG, and she slowly pulled it out of her belt loop. The wolf, eyes squinting almost shut, had aimed the hand gun at the patch of ground where Shrapnel was now running away from.
"Like this," the Timber Wolf had stated, slowly squeezing the trigger. A small blast ignited inside the barrel of the weapon, pushing a bullet out with great force. The cylindrical round whizzed forward, performing barrel roll after barrel roll in the air. Closer and closer it came to the bomb until…
Soon, the area above the volatile weapon was filled with dust as the bullet detonated the bomb on impact. Aurora, a satisfied look on her face, began running once again, breezing through now half-buried shrapnel. Drake and Chester had followed suit, groaning a little when they noticed the pastel blue wolf had gotten considerably ahead of them already.
An aggravated growl had escaped the throat of Sergeant Shrapnel Torsile upon the weasel catching site of his bomb blowing up without taking down even one of the trio. He plastered a paw over his face, bringing it downwards, and causing an ever so slight stretching of skin. He would have gone after the Division Agents, had it not been for the fact that they were now too far ahead for him to catch up to, and there were no other shortcuts he could take.
"Drat…" the brown Mobian had muttered, as he slowly stood up and faced the Klawzax Unit's headquarters. And as he did so, he hoped Scarlett would have taken care of Blaire by the time he returned. At least the fox would have been in a good mood-and that would make things much, much easier to explain…
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Blaire and Scarlett stood eye-to-eye with each other, both breathing heavily. Cuts and bruises lined their bodies, the result of the prolonged swordfight.
"Give it up Blaire. You'll never defeat me," Scarlett said, tightening her grip on her sword's hilt. "So I'm going to give you two, and only two options. You can either-"
"I know, I know," the purple-furred Mobian interrupted, rolling her eyes. "I can either join you, or I can let you slit my throat."
"Very well," the vixen began, a malicious sneer on her face. "Take your pick."
"Let's see, I certainly do not want to join the likes of you guys," the Siberian Husky answered, beginning to circle around her rival.
"Then one slit throat, coming right up!"
"Not so fast, Scarlett."
The red fox never saw the saber coming. She moved in with her longsword, aiming to cut a long gash across Blaire's throat. But as she did so, she failed to remember the husky's lightning fast relaxes. The dog swiftly ducked, Scarlett's blade barely nicking her ears. Blaire managed to ignore the pain that came from the slash and moved in for retaliation.
That metallic blue tip dug ever so slightly into Scarlett's torso. A scrapping sound reached the two canines' ears, brought on by Blaire moving her sword upwards with great swiftness. The gash wasn't deep, but it did its job-the red vixen stopped all activity then and there, focusing on the lengthy incision.
Wham!
The end of that saber's hilt slammed into Scarlett's skull, the fox having been too distracted by her wound to notice it even coming. The vixen swayed to the side for a few seconds in a daze. And then, she felt herself being pulled to the floor, that black nose of hers slamming right into the red dirt. Scarlett got just a glimpse of a puce boot, before darkness overtook her…
"Heh, that fox always had a bit of a soft skull," Blaire mused, sheathing her Sapphire Blade back into its scabbard. "Oh well, that's the breaks," she said with a shrug, a smug grin crossing her features. One about-face later, and she was heading out of the lair, taking a few detours to avoid detection from other Unit agents.
"Ah yes, another mission, successfully completed."
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It was the following evening. Blaire trekked through the city of Robotropolis, her mission to shut down one of the many factories scattered about. Her taste buds filled with the sweet taste of a chocolate mint, the Siberian Husky smiled to herself. So far, her assignment had been fraught with very little trouble. She'd gotten past security without much of a problem, save for a couple SWATbots that had since been put out of commission thanks to Blaire's Sapphire Blade.
She didn't notice it until it passed her.
It shot past her like a bullet that had been recently charged from a gun. Blaire's eyes landed on a blue blur, the Siberian Husky having to do a double take when she noticed the incredible velocity it was traveling at.
"Whoa, that guy's faster than Aurora, even if she was using Airstream Boost," the Mobian told herself, clearly impressed by the blur's speed. "Much faster." Of course, with something traveling at that speed, it wasn't long before it faded from view. Blaire, a slight smirk on her face, resumed walking, the image of the speedy figure, or at least a smeared image of him, still etched in her mind.
"And the evening just started…"